Wide awake in Every Day Life, Chapter 5, Part 2

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Chapter 5, Part 2
Emotional prevention is not simply a matter of translating words.
It is about conveying impact.
The core message remains the same.
But the form must be chosen in such a way that it truly reaches people.
Gradually, an international mosaic of messages, songs and versions emerged – always with the same aim:
not merely to educate people,
but to reach them.
Whether this approach works is not first evident from click counts.
It is evident in encounters.
In talks.
In training sessions.
In rooms full of people who have been through a great deal.
Time and again, a special moment emerges there:
people who are not moved by any statistics or presentation suddenly fall silent when images, music and personal stories come together.
Faces change.
Voices break.
Tears are held back.
Some weep openly.
This is not an end in itself.
It is the moment when defence mechanisms briefly open up.
And a message sinks in more deeply.
This happens particularly powerfully when Helena herself becomes visible.
Then it is no longer just about technology.
No longer just about rules.
No longer just about behaviour on the roads.
Then it is about a person who embodies the consequences of a single moment.
Helena is not turned into a symbolic figure in the process.
But her fate illustrates with great clarity what is otherwise often hidden behind statistics:
Behind every fatal accident lies a life afterwards,
which will never be the same again.
Of course, this too is a difficult experience:
Tragic stories often receive more attention than constructive solutions.
Pain draws people in.
Suffering gets clicks.
Disaster spreads more easily than a mindset.
But that is precisely why we must not give up on positive and transformative messages.
On the contrary.
If tragedy attracts attention, then that attention must be translated into change.
This is exactly where this chapter ties in with the previous ones.
Music alone does not save lives.
But it can be a vehicle for truth, insight and inner emotion.
It can help make connections tangible that are otherwise only understood rationally.
It can build a bridge:
between the stress of everyday working life,
the harrowing sight of a wrecked vehicle,
the pain of a survivor,
and the responsibility of someone who drives 40 tonnes every day.
For me, this is where the true power of this approach lies.
Music is not mere decoration.
It is an amplifier.
It is not meant to entertain in order to distract.
Rather, it is meant to move people in order to bring about change.
It is not meant to moralise.
Rather, it is meant to remind.
It is not meant to assign blame.
Rather, it is meant to promote vigilance.
It is also important to note that:
This emotional approach to prevention does not stand alone.
It is linked to the ‘Ten Max-Eighty’ rules, the safety register, training materials, presentations, driver handbooks and company briefings.
It is precisely this that ensures it does not become a sentimental campaign lacking any grounding in reality.
Rather, it is a comprehensive approach to prevention:
Emotion plus information plus structure.
Perhaps this is precisely the new direction for this chapter.
Prevention must not be seen as a conflict between emotion and reason.
It needs both.
Those who rely solely on emotion risk it being fleeting.
Those who rely solely on rules often only scratch the surface.
It is only where the two come together that an emotional connection can lead to behavioural change.
That is why, for me, this prevention work is not just a creative side project.
It is a tangible attempt to reach hearts, so that minds may open – and behaviour may change.
For behind every journey lies a home.
Behind every rider lies a person.
And behind every preventable accident lies a pain that need not have arisen.
So when I say that we want to reach hearts through this work, I do not mean it in a sentimental way.
I mean it in a very practical sense.
If, at the crucial moment, someone has the chorus in their head,
takes their eyes off their mobile,
takes an extra breather,
takes their stress seriously,
or remembers Helena,
then perhaps they’ll ride differently.
And perhaps someone who would otherwise have died will live.
Then the music would have done what good prevention should always do:
not just inform,
but protect.

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Chapter 5, Part 2 Emotional prevention is not simply a matter of translating words. It is about conveying impact. The core message remains the same. But the form must be chosen in such a way that it truly reaches people. Gradually, an international mosaic of messages, songs and versions emerged – always with the same aim: not merely to educate people, but to reach them. Whether this approach works is not first evident from click counts. It is evident in encounters. In talks. In training sessions. In rooms full of people who have been through a great deal. Time and again, a special moment emerges there: people who are not moved by any statistics or presentation suddenly fall silent when images, music and personal stories come together. Faces change. Voices break. Tears are held back. Some weep openly. This is not an end in itself. It is the moment when defence mechanisms briefly open up. And a message sinks in more deeply. This happens particularly powerfully when Helena herself becomes visible. Then it is no longer just about technology. No longer just about rules. No longer just about behaviour on the roads. Then it is about a person who embodies the consequences of a single moment. Helena is not turned into a symbolic figure in the process. But her fate illustrates with great clarity what is otherwise often hidden behind statistics: Behind every fatal accident lies a life afterwards, which will never be the same again. Of course, this too is a difficult experience: Tragic stories often receive more attention than constructive solutions. Pain draws people in. Suffering gets clicks. Disaster spreads more easily than a mindset. But that is precisely why we must not give up on positive and transformative messages. On the contrary. If tragedy attracts attention, then that attention must be translated into change. This is exactly where this chapter ties in with the previous ones. Music alone does not save lives. But it can be a vehicle for truth, insight and inner emotion. It can help make connections tangible that are otherwise only understood rationally. It can build a bridge: between the stress of everyday working life, the harrowing sight of a wrecked vehicle, the pain of a survivor, and the responsibility of someone who drives 40 tonnes every day. For me, this is where the true power of this approach lies. Music is not mere decoration. It is an amplifier. It is not meant to entertain in order to distract. Rather, it is meant to move people in order to bring about change. It is not meant to moralise. Rather, it is meant to remind. It is not meant to assign blame. Rather, it is meant to promote vigilance. It is also important to note that: This emotional approach to prevention does not stand alone. It is linked to the ‘Ten Max-Eighty’ rules, the safety register, training materials, presentations, driver handbooks and company briefings. It is precisely this that ensures it does not become a sentimental campaign lacking any grounding in reality. Rather, it is a comprehensive approach to prevention: Emotion plus information plus structure. Perhaps this is precisely the new direction for this chapter. Prevention must not be seen as a conflict between emotion and reason. It needs both. Those who rely solely on emotion risk it being fleeting. Those who rely solely on rules often only scratch the surface. It is only where the two come together that an emotional connection can lead to behavioural change. That is why, for me, this prevention work is not just a creative side project. It is a tangible attempt to reach hearts, so that minds may open – and behaviour may change. For behind every journey lies a home. Behind every rider lies a person. And behind every preventable accident lies a pain that need not have arisen. So when I say that we want to reach hearts through this work, I do not mean it in a sentimental way. I mean it in a very practical sense. If, at the crucial moment, someone has the chorus in their head, takes their eyes off their mobile, takes an extra breather, takes their stress seriously, or remembers Helena, then perhaps they’ll ride differently. And perhaps someone who would otherwise have died will live. Then the music would have done what good prevention should always do: not just inform, but protect.

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