Three weeks into 2026, and crisis management professionals are already drowning.
Berlin: Arson attacks sever critical power cables, plunging est. 45,000 households into a four-day blackout. The longest power outage in the city since 1945. Investigators found that the attack destroyed not only the main supply cables but also the grid redundancy capacity at a single junction point, making rapid restoration largely impossible.
Spain: Two passenger trains collide near Adamuz in Andalusia, killing at least 43 people. In August 2025, the train drivers' union Semaf had sent a letter to rail operator ADIF warning that track vibrations were causing infrastructure stress and requesting speed reductions. The investigation continues, with officials still determining whether a broken rail joint was the cause or the consequence of the derailment.
Ukraine: Russian strikes reduce the country's power generation to 14 GW, barely a third of peacetime capacity. With temperatures at -20°C and 400 settlements without power, the systematic destruction of civilian infrastructure continues into its third winter.
Three different countries. Three different causes: sabotage exploiting infrastructure vulnerabilities, safety concerns raised before tragedy struck, and deliberate military targeting of civilian systems. Yet for the communities affected, the downstream reality is identical. Darkness, cold, systems that were supposed to protect them failing when needed most.
Scroll through any crisis management feed right now and you'll find all three stories competing for attention alongside dozens of others. Drone incursions over European airports. AI-generated disinformation campaigns. Supply chain disruptions rippling through pharmaceutical networks. Climate projections that keep getting revised upward. FEMA restructuring proposals. NATO exercise schedules. New threat frameworks. Updated resilience standards.
The volume is relentless. The question nobody's asking: What actually matters?