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This week we're sharing some "Voices from the Summit." Throughout the week participants in the 2008 Summit will be blogging about their experience, their work and their thoughts.

Summit has always been one of my favorite words. When I reached the summit of Mount Rainier some years ago, we broke through a thick layer of clouds and the sky above was absolutely clear. From the summit, we could see the horizon but not the land or cities below. The "real world" was obscured. It was a reflective moment of beauty and clarity, a time for looking upward and outward.

The Harwood Public Innovators Summit affected me in somewhat the same way. Being there made me look in many different directions and reflect on new possibilities, while leaving the day-to-day world behind for a while.

Everyone there seemed to be in that space and share that spirit.  All seemed willing to be transparent, open and accountable for their work and themselves.

Whatever our sector, whatever our challenges, we asked ourselves: How can my organization best help? On what scale? With what participants? With what resources? What metrics? To what end? And what is my personal role? My motivation? Values? Energy? Legacy?

Those are the kinds of things the Summit made me think about. And finding that many others are asking themselves the same questions was good to know. Sharing our successes and failures, hopes and fears, laughs and tears, dreams and realities, at the Summit was -- at least for me -- truly a peak experience. That's what summits are all about.

John Hamer,  Executive Director,  Washington News Council

On Friday, New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg stood before some 200 people at the Jewish Federation of South Palm Beach County to set straight a nasty rumor about Senator Barack Obama, intended to strike fear into the hearts of Jews. The rumor holds that Obama is really a Muslim, who will not support Israeli or even American interests. Bloomberg went to South Florida to tell Jews the real story, and his actions lead to this question: Will each of us stand up when our turn comes?

Over the years Bloomberg has not made it a habit to talk publicly about his Jewish faith or ties to the Jewish community. Nor is he an Obama supporter. He even tested the waters for his own presidential run this year, and he is known to be close to Senator John McCain. But according to The New York Times, Bloomberg told the Palm Beach crowd that the rumors about Obama represent "wedge politics at its worse, and we have to reject it - loudly, clearly and unequivocally."

In Make Hope Real, I dedicated Chapter 3 to what I call, "A New Breed of Leaders," and included Bloomberg among individuals who are exhibiting a new, promising kind of leadership.

"The new leaders are people who have highly pragmatic approaches to policy, who seek to find ways to make public life and politics work rather than to disparage it, who vigilantly look for opportunities to engage people in the ongoing process of governing and improving their lives, who try to avoid hyperbolic and heated rhetoric." (pg 26)

But there was another point in that chapter that I have come to believe is just as important. Over and over again, people in communities have asked me, "How communities can get the leaders they need to make public life and communities work?" My response: We must stand by our good leaders when they come under fire, even when we do not agree with their positions or political party when, to vouch for their principles and values.

That's what Bloomberg did last Friday for Obama. Instead of standing on the sidelines watching people take pot shots at Obama, he stepped forward. He did so because he knew that he held special credibility on this issue with fellow Jews; and he knew that many of the people now living in South Florida once lived in his beloved New York City.

The Times quoted Elizabeth Sadwith of Delray Beach as saying, "There was no other evidence, so I believed the [rumor-filled] e-mails." There are many people across America who might make the same statement; indeed, perhaps my 103-year old grandmother from Brooklyn, who now lives in North Miami, has entertained such thoughts.

Whether or not people end up supporting Obama is their personal business. But whisper campaigns to make people fearful must be fought head-on. Bloomberg has done that, and I gratefully and enthusiastically applaud his actions.

Now, the question for each of is: When a good leader comes under fire, will we stand next to them and vouch for their integrity and good will, even if we do not agree with a particular position or their party?

If we want to change public life and politics, then more of us will need to follow Mayor Bloomberg's lead.

Download Make Hope Real
and learn more about this new breed of leaders

What if the more attention we paid to issues of equity and race, the more supporters and funders of "community causes" dried up? That's the question I posed at two events last week. For me, the issue is whether we are prepared to lose precious support by seeking to see and hear all people in our communities, or will we take the path of least resistance and follow the money?

First, some important context: The ease with which we can actively turn away from those we don't wish to see or hear makes it increasingly difficult to address issues of equity and race. For instance, we can pick and choose our own news on the Internet, screening out unwanted or undesirable stories. Meanwhile, many of us have retreated into close-knit circles of families and friends, essentially turning away from public life and those who are not like us. According to The Big Sort, a new book by Bill Bishop and Robert G. Cushing, more of us are moving into increasingly homogeneous areas. And many people report feeling "fatigued" by pictures and news from one tragic disaster and horrific war after another.

Against this backdrop I found myself face-to-face with these concerns last week. First, in a small conference room over delivered pizza, I met with a handful of incredible school and community change-agents in Baltimore. We talked about their efforts to re-engage parents, neighborhood leaders, businesspeople, and others in support of community-based schools. These change agents believe their current efforts give them a real chance to move beyond lip service in seeking to achieve their goals; but they know that if they are successful, they might just upend the ill-fated status quo in the city and the web of relationships that support it.

Traveling just a handful of blocks to the imposing Baltimore Convention Center, which for me was like entering a parallel universe, I moderated a discussion in a gigantic ballroom filled with nearly 2,000 attendees at the United Way of America Community Leadership Conference. The topic: "Advancing the Common Good."

At the conference, Brian Gallagher, the visionary head of United Way of America, unveiled their new campaign and tagline: LIVE UNITED. It's a terrific approach (a topic I'll leave for another day). But my point is this: to "live united" means seeing and hearing one another; it means that the poor, minorities, people living in particular neighborhoods, would not be pushed aside and be made invisible; that the voices of such people would be heard and heeded; that people's concerns would be on the public agenda and actively addressed. If we were to live in a community united, people would not be seen as victims or wards of the state, somehow incapable of managing their own lives - but as individuals with crucial knowledge and passion and agency.

In both sessions I asked, if funders and donors supporting groups like local United Ways, community foundations, public broadcasting, local education and community groups would continue their support as we aggressively sought to live united - that is, as we worked to see and hear everyone in communities. More to the point will funders and supporters see their discomfort increase as they confront issues and situations that are not easily solved, that are not amendable to simply to giving hand-outs, that require genuine change - even change in relationships and power? Will they balk and backtrack when they realize that to have true impact may mean shifting funding from their "favorite" groups to others whom they do not know and may have dismissed in the past? 

If we are serious about seeing and hearing all people - if we wish to act on issues of equity and race - then we must be prepared for some funders and supporters to say, "No, thank you." We must be ready to see some of our money and support pulled. We must know that our very operations must become more ruthlessly focused, and that we may lose support in some quarters before we can marshal new support in others.

Of course, none of this is easy, it is riddled with uncertainty and ambiguity. There are no guarantees that new money and support will follow, even as we pursue a path we know will make our communities stronger and healthier. And we know that in tackling issues of equity and race, progress can be slow, and supporters can become impatient.  

But there is a silver lining here. My good friend Paul Light, a thought-leader on high-performing non-profits, says his research shows that Americans will support groups that do good work and produce real impact. To produce impact means that we must turn toward to our communities to understand and work with them; and we must develop new pathways for making progress. When we do, I believe, we will find new supporters and donors - individuals who know we can do better in our society and who themselves yearn to have an impact. But that may require us to let go of the money now in our own grasp to reap the potential benefits of a clear-headed decision.

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To explore other key questions facing those working in public life, read Rich's latest essay: Make Hope Real. You can download a free copy from our website.

As a Washington Capitals season ticket holder I've come to cherish the moment at each game when fans are asked to salute guest soldiers, many of whom are being treated at nearby Walter Reed Army Hospital. To a person, everyone rises to their feet and gives our guests an extended standing ovation. It's an amazing feeling to be among 15,000 people expressing such love and respect. But when the applause gives way to life's daily drudgeries, I wonder what happens to those brave soldiers, especially those in need of mental health support? Are we asked to stand up then?

This weekend, The New York Times ran two articles on the mental health of our troops serving in Iraq. One, "Army Is Worried by Rising Stress of Return Tours," detailed how each tour of duty significantly raises the odds that a soldier will return home with "anxiety, depression or acute stress." The second piece, "After War, Love Can Be a Battlefield," told of 19 couples who attended a weekend retreat called "Strong Bonds," to learn how to deal with the enormous stress placed on marriages and families when soldiers return home.

What is our bond to our troops when the applause dies down, when men and women in uniform find themselves sitting alone in their dark living room or around an empty kitchen table, when the demons of trauma will not relent, when there seems to be no one they can talk with? After we ship someone overseas for a tour of duty, what does it mean for us to have "strong bonds" with them when they come home?

Mental health is still a taboo subject in our society, though our ability to talk about it openly has improved dramatically in my lifetime. I remember as a kid, watching my mom help to create "Hammond House," a halfway home for mental health patients who had been "de-institutionalized" by New York State during the 1970s. Hammond House was located just a handful of blocks from my own home. What my mom and others did was pretty remarkable.

I also remember seeing the slim white envelopes among the mail on our dining room table, with the austere black lettering in the upper left-hand corner: "Saratoga County Mental Health Committee." Among his many commitments, my dad served on this committee at a time when mental health issues were often considered shameful to talk about in public.

I still recall vividly the college psychiatrist at Skidmore College, Dr. Mastrianni, approaching me after a speech I'd given, to ask if I would consider working at the county's Mental Health Crisis Center. I quickly said yes, and it was an experience that would help direct my life. My role was to help patients during the many hours when no doctor was to be seen. I remember going home after 12-hour shifts and sitting on the floor in my room hoping to decompress and sort out what I had seen and experienced. I was only 19 or 20 years old. I remember once having to help tie down to her bed a struggling patient; she was someone I had walked to elementary school with, someone I had known for years.

What I came to know from my time at the crisis center was how close to the edge so many people live; how someone can seem to be doing relatively okay one day, and then the next they are pushed too far, beyond what they can handle at the moment. Together with other experiences, my time at the Crisis Center left an indelible mark upon my heart: we must be our brother's keeper.

A visiting rabbi at my temple recently asked some of us when we had felt God's presence, or at least some semblance of genuine spirituality. I've felt it many times, but one is when we Caps fans stand-up together in a show of support of our troops. In my row alone, I suspect there are widely divergent views on the war; but in that single moment, when we all stand, there is something incredibly beautiful that occurs, something that seems larger than any of us. We are together.

I keep thinking of the people I met at the Crisis Center, people who desperately wanted to get back up on their feet; I think as well about the people my parents sought to support in my home town, and how they were willing to stand up for them. Now, when our troops return from a war many people do not want, what will we do? I wish we could find a way to stand up for our troops � not merely by giving out medals, or through recognition at sporting events, or with periodic retreats about how to save one's marriage. We need to stand with individuals who need our ongoing support so that they can get back up on their feet.

It's jolting and ominous. Indeed, the dueling Clinton-Obama "red phone" ads are a throw-back to previous eras, a time of the cold war, a bear in the woods, daisies and detonation. The red phone is an icon of fear, often used when other arguments fail. But that's just it: the red phone is about the past. I want to look to the future, one rooted in our present-day reality.

This campaign has given us Senator Obama, who has captured many people's imagination; Senator Clinton, who has demonstrated just how tough she is; and Senator McCain, an American hero. But my concern here is not about media buys, "get out the vote" operations, or how to excite people and motivate them to vote. I have no problem with tough-minded ads.

My concern is that I want candidates who call us to look to the future by genuinely reflecting and understanding the present. We're squarely barreling into the 21st Century, whether we like it or not and things have changed dramatically from the 1990s, or even from 2004. For instance:


With fundamental shifts taking place in this country and around the world, old discussions about the same old issues won’t work. Nor will simply updating various policy proposals, arguing endlessly about who voted for NAFTA and what they think today, or talking about speeches vs. solutions.  

I remember sitting in a restaurant in New Hampshire in 1995 with a group of citizens I was interviewing for a project with the Pew Center for Civic Journalism. The project was built around listening to Americans talk about their concerns and hopes. People talked movingly and with deep frustration about how their factory jobs had gone overseas.  They were clear that something was changing in America, but weren’t exactly sure what, and they were holding on for dear life to the past.  Of course, that's not uncommon, we all do that.

But there's little doubt today that the world has gone through a major transformation and that we are not returning to the 1980s, or even the 1990s. What's more, no president alone can shape the future, or craft a new, complete and cogent narrative for the nation. Such changes emerge only over time. And yet, a candidate for the presidency and future president can help us "turn" toward the future, so that we can begin to see it and address it. You see, the fundamental choice before us is not simply a matter of debating one policy or another, but a choice about our orientation concerning the next leg of our common journey.

When I was 23 years old, several presidents ago, I was a young aide to senior staff for the Mondale for President Campaign. That campaign also produced a red phone television ad, one used against Senator Gary Hart (D-CO). Just a few short years later, in 1987, I made the decision to start what has become The Harwood Institute for Public Innovation, in part because I felt that politics had become more about striking fear into people's hearts, than tapping into their aspirations and solving problems.

In many respects, politics is on the upswing this year. The positive changes have been a long-time in the making, a manifestation, I believe, of Americans' long-held aspirations for a better politics and public life. Which leads me back to the red phone: this year's race, I believe, is the first in recent times to be squarely about the new century, about an era already upon us, one which represents a fundamentally different trajectory for our nation. If, as I believe, our trajectory is fundamentally different from eras past, then I want a campaign which talks about that different path and how we can take it.

The messages of hope and change that dominate our political discussions these days have made many people giddy about the possibilities for public life and politics. But, if we do not wish to slip back into business as usual, we must beware of our own inclinations and proclivities to rely on techniques and process as a substitute for making hope real. Instead, our task now is to reorient ourselves outward, toward the people and communities we serve, or risk squandering the opportunity before us.


In our rush to re-engage people and marshal civic resources, we can fall prey to our own good intentions. Good intentions aren't enough, and alone won't get us where we want to go. In our use of techniques and process, we can crowd out the very judgments we must make to create conditions for hope and change. We can assume a false sense of progress and security, and sidestep the very battles we must fight to produce change.

There's so much to say here, but let me offer a handful of examples of where we turn to technique and process and how they can take us down the wrong path:


My own sense is that many people make a beeline to techniques and processes simply as a way to be "doing something." Others use techniques and process to combat their own internal fears about ambiguity and the unknown, thus providing a tidy step-by-step recipe for action. Still others may be looking for the silver bullet, the quick way to solve the problem at-hand and move on.

Many of us operate with the implicit assumption that so long as we are moving forward, so long as we can say something is happening, so long as we are moving down our task list, we can claim that progress is being made. But is it? The danger is that we become "activity happy, and yet action deprived."

Tools, techniques and to-do lists may assuage our own doubts, may give us a sense of progress, but a completed check list or some such other step won't necessarily lead to change. I worry that our impulse to grab a new technique or process is a way to insulate ourselves from facing difficult truths. We can forget that not every child has access to a good education; that many people are without healthcare; that even as we become a more diverse society, we are turning inward - away from one another. Each of our communities faces its own difficult truths, and we all struggle with how to adequately and honestly address them.

The problem with the tyranny of techniques and process is that it can be a stand-in for our own need to step up and make judgments on how best to make a difference. It robs us of the possibilities for reshaping public life and politics and discarding business as usual. For sure, I believe there is a role for techniques and process, as tools to help us implement our larger ideas and aspirations in public life. But this requires that we have clarity about our intentions and purpose, that our actions create genuine opportunities to make hope real.

So while new techniques, processes and tools have a place, we need something more. We need to reorient ourselves. We need to turn outward to the very people and communities we serve. It's time: please, join me in the fight against the tyranny of techniques and process.

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To learn more about how you can avoid becoming "activity happy, yet action deprived" get your free copy of Make Hope Real.  (Chapter 4)

I was asked during the Q&A session following a speech last Thursday what tactics I'd suggest you embrace given Senator Barack Obama's ascendancy. I write this before anyone has cast a vote in Wisconsin, though what I have to say would be the same whether you ultimately win or lose. My chief goal here is not to pretend to be your campaign consultant, because I'm not. Rather, I simply want to let you know what I told the person who asked the question.



Now, last week, when this person asked me the question about you, they seemed to want to know why you weren’t doing better, and why there was this growing Obama-frenzy across the country. I don't profess to know the answers to all these questions, but what I found myself saying to this individual was that I have followed your career, had met you once in the Governor's mansion in Arkansas, and that I believe that you hold very deep convictions about public life and the welfare of society. Yet these convictions often seem to be missing from your campaign.

Literally, as I write this last sentence, I received an e-mail from a colleague in my office which suggests that the Wisconsin race is now tightening. No matter whether you win or lose I hope you will consider your path ahead. What you do is important -  to yourself, the nation, and the condition of public life.

Let’s start with Monday’s news. In his endorsement of Barack Obama, Senator Ted Kennedy sought to position the young candidate alongside his brothers, John and Bobby, both of whom sought to usher in a new day in politics, one infused with service and idealism rather than triangulation and fear. Now, once again, there’s something undeniable emerging across the nation: a new breed of leader who sees public life and politics differently. Two basic questions stand before us with concern to this new breed of leader, and only you and I and others like us hold the answers to these questions.

Whether Barack Obama is one of these new leaders remains to be seen. But there is a growing cadre of such leaders dotting the American landscape including, for instance, mayors such as Cory Booker (Newark), Adrian Fenty (DC), Jay Williams, (Youngstown) and, yes, Michael Bloomberg (New York City). In my essay Make Hope Real, I write about this new breed of leaders as:

“…people who have highly pragmatic approaches to policy, who seek to find ways to make public life and politics work rather than to disparage it, who vigilantly look for opportunities to engage people in the ongoing process of governing and improving their lives, who try to avoid hyperbolic and heated rhetoric.”

If we truly want to usher in a new day in public life and politics, each of us will need to answer two fundamental questions:

In recent weeks I’ve received a lot of phone calls, emails and notes from people asking me if I’m excited about how the current presidential race is unfolding, with its emphasis on “hope and change,” long-standing hallmarks of our work here at the Institute. Yes, I’m excited about the growing sense of possibility, but I am also old enough now to know that we cannot pin our hopes for change on one individual in the White House.  For presidents come and go; the true measure of hope is whether it resides in the houses of people all across America.

Let us seize this moment in history and support the new breed of leader emerging across America, and take our own place in this unfolding story to make hope real in all our communities.

This was my reaction when listening to an ad on WFLR 96.7 FM—a Christian-contemporary station—while driving from Detroit to Battle Creek. The ad began simply enough, asking listeners to help support families unable to meet their winter heating bills. It was actually heart-warming. But then the ad abruptly changed.

It went on to tell listeners about WFLR’s holiday-season partnership with Aspen Heating and Cooling, and that each listener was now invited to visit the station’s web site (myflr.org) to nominate “one deserving family” who would become eligible to win a new furnace from the good folks at Aspen. The web site says, “Nominations are being accepted until November 7, with the winning family announced on November 14.”

Twice more I heard this ad while in Michigan. And with each subsequent airing, my disbelief grew.

• Since when do we anonymously “nominate” poor neighbors to receive such care? Is this some new kind of charitable approach, where if a well-to-do person deems you needy enough, you can receive help? If not, what then? Are you to stay at home shivering in despair?
• What about the next time the station runs this competition: will they choose to pick three “needy finalists,” who will then go on-air to make their case so the rest of us can pick the winner? Is this the new kind of citizen-driven philanthropy everyone seems to be talking about?
• Exactly what does the phrase “one deserving family” mean? As a child, if your family doesn’t get the new furnace, is your family somehow un-deserving? What happens this winter when your family can’t afford to heat your home?
• Then there’s the obvious question about once people nominate a family, and the “deserving family” wins the new furnace, do we just move on to the next issue? Does one’s limited participation in the station contest fulfill their need to look beyond themselves and be responsible for one another?

I can hear some of my colleagues now: Rich, you don’t understand, we must make use of all available means to engage people in society’s common concerns. Further, they say, the old ways of making people feel guilty, or asking them to sacrifice for others, or simply appealing to the angels of their better nature no longer work in our fast-paced, consumer-oriented society. Our job now is to adapt the tools of advertising, public relations, and gimmicks-of-all-kinds to engage people. We must entertain and be entertaining. Indeed, by “voting” for your favorite needy-family we can each become an active participant in society – after all, isn’t that what American Idol has taught us?

For as long as I can remember, there have always been raffles and other efforts to support people in need by groups such as Rotary Clubs, Knights of Columbus and others. But have our marketing, public relations, and other strategies to capture people’s attention run so completely afoul that we’ve lost sight of what is required to make society work? When do our attempts to “game” public life blur our very ability to keep sight of the essence of what brings each of us to our work?

I know that simply raising our voices and imploring people to care will not bring about the progress we seek. There is already too much noise and fatigue and isolation in society; attempts to push and cajole people only cause them to retreat further from public life. But is the solution to merely give in to those who say that people won’t care, or that people can’t connect their self-interests with the interests of others, or that people merely want to be left alone?  I believe such arguments miss the undercurrents of what’s happening in our society.

People do care. People want to be part of something larger than themselves. People know that we must believe in something deeper than simply unfettered consumerism. Trust and hope and, yes, even love, do matter (as does being ruthlessly strategic in our change efforts!). We must not cede the public square to those who tell us that the only way to engage people is to mimic what happens in a shopping mall.

We can’t control what everyone else does. But we can direct our own efforts and help to create conditions in our communities that root out such cheap gimmicks like holding raffles for “one deserving family.” I know lots of deserving families.

(Photo: David McNew/Getty Images)
 Last week the Washington Post ran a front page story that Americans may be too angry to embrace your message of hope, and instead are aching for a heated partisan campaign of division and resentment. I think they’re wrong. But I also believe that you and other leaders who care about hope must be vigilant in how you engage Americans on hope. It is too easy to misstep here and for politics as usual to triumph. Thus I’ve listed below five key points for winning the public fight on hope. Know that my concern here is not your election, though I wish you luck; instead it is the task of rebuilding hope in our land.

One of the most searing insights I have gained from my 20 years of work across the country is the centrality of hope in people’s lives – and also its fragility. I say this after tirelessly seeking new ways for individuals, organizations, and communities to address social ills and act on their aspirations. And yet, the surfacing and expression of hope is uniquely beautiful, enabling people to stand up and step forward even in the face of adversity and when odds are dead set against them. But false hope is insidious, a contagion that breeds skepticism and leads to cynicism the likes of which causes people to retreat and disengage.

There’s been enough false hope in our society, we all know that. Nonetheless, many leaders continue to engage in an assortment of unseemly and nasty games in public life at the expense of our common interests. They tell those of us who care about hope that we should toughen up or get out of their way. The upshot is that those of us who pursue the path of hope – whether we are a presidential candidate or a local public innovator – must marry our conviction for change with the ability to be ruthlessly strategic in our actions. For if we fail in our current attempts to pursue hope, I fear we will squander the opportunity to re-engage and reconnect Americans.

Here, then, are five key points for us to consider in the pursuit of hope – you as presidential candidate and those of us who live in communities across the country.

Key Points for the Pursuit of Hope

1.    We must always keep in mind an important distinction when talking about hope: the difference between false hope and authentic hope. Anyone who wishes to be a champion of hope must be clear about maintaining their focus on authentic hope. This will require immense personal discipline not to blur lines into false hope in the name of convenience or easy wins, and to maintain the clarity of purpose among those who surround you so as not to be pushed off course.

2.    When opponents question your motivations, go after you on policy, or attack you personally, you must keep focused on authentic hope. The moment you engage in a tit-for-tat in public discourse, you will erode your own authenticity and your claim to authentic hope. BUT, this does not mean that you should never fight back. Indeed you should and must! But when you do, train your arguments on substantive matters and provide clear contrasts of vision. Do not back down; but nor should you fall prey to playing politics as usual if you want your position to be compelling and forthright.

3.    Remember that “hope” is a result of your articulated vision and related positions, not proclamations about hope! When notions of hope become overly familiar – that is, when one makes it their stock and trade – it loses meaning and currency. Hope is not a message unto itself, but over time the byproduct of actions we take and results that emerge. Thus I would urge you and others not to overdo talk about hope; instead, people should see hope as a result of the change you wish to bring about. Otherwise, hope can become an empty slogan.

4.    As strange as it may sound, none of us “own” hope. We must remember that hope resides within individuals and communities. Hope is the result of people tapping their own potential to make a difference and joining together to forge a common future. Anyone who talks about hope must know that they are merely a messenger or carrier for something larger than themselves. Therefore, when talking about hope, the focus must be on people, always the people. I know this is difficult because talk of hope can be personally intoxicating; I have experienced this in my own small way. We can mistake people’s response to hope to be about ourselves. When we make that mistake, we can lose our way.

5.    We must deliver big on a message of change and authentic hope if people are not to fall sway to heated partisan appeals. This requires that we step forward and articulate a clearly different point of view; hold up a mirror to people so they can see their shared realities; make meaningful entreaties to people to re-engage and reconnect. Some people will aggressively attack you and others who take this path; so be it. But if you and the rest of us straddle the fence in presenting an alternative; if we seem to be accommodating special interests under the cover of new rhetoric; if attempts are made to soft peddle what must be said, then all that will be left is the muddled pursuit of hope. Then people will reach for partisanship and its fleeting comfort of surety rather than our lukewarm hope.

I should say that I admire anyone who steps forward to illuminate possible pathways toward authentic hope. I know that attempts to generate deep change on issues before us will not yield immediate results; but I also know that we can and must place a stake in the ground about what we value and how we seek to move ahead. My own belief is that our task now is to make hope real for people. This too is a long-term endeavor. And no doubt there will be many enemies of the public good who will try to block us along the way. But people are waiting.

Today’s Republican debate is a vital test to see whether any candidate is willing to authentically engage voters – to step forward and speak to us honestly. Just over a week ago the top-tier Republican candidates skipped the Morgan State/PBS debate focused on African American and Latino concerns. I have returned to issues surrounding the Morgan State debate because I believe it offers a crucial lens through which to view the candidates early in this campaign.

Weary of the acrimonious and divisive nature of politics and the lack of adequate progress on a host of issues, people yearn for leaders who can pull us together, get things moving in a positive direction, and engage with the realities of our lives—we are searching for a “new breed of leader.”

I wrote about a “new breed of leader” in my essay, Make Hope Real.  Unlike many of the “outsider” leaders who emerged in the 1990s and spoke about a hostile takeover of government, disparaged public service, and exploited wedge issues, today’s new breed is highly pragmatic on policy issues, seeks to make public life and politics work instead of tearing them apart, and actively engages people in coming together to solve problems.  Instead of dividing us one from another, this new breed of leader believes in calling upon people to come together to improve their lives.

As I travel the country I sense the slow but steady growth in the number of such leaders. I see a new breed of leader emerging all around—the mayors of Newark, Washington, D.C. and Youngstown, as well as Michael Bloomberg in New York City.  And after tonight’s debate we should be able to answer a fairly simple question: Are any of these candidates part of the new breed of leader that we see emerging across the country. Will any of the major candidates step forward and address their absence at the Morgan State debate, or will they avoid the question like they avoided speaking with voters at Morgan State?

Last week I wrote that if Abraham Lincoln, the founder of the Republican party, were alive he would have welcomed the chance to attend the Morgan State event. I believe he represented a different kind of politics. He would have seen the debate as an opportunity to talk about pressing issues of race, prejudice, social and economic justice, and responsibility in our land; and he would have challenged us to look beyond what we already know – or think we know – about these concerns.  If he were alive today he would be among the new breed of leader.

However, when the top-tier Republican candidates skipped the Morgan State event they sent an unmistakable message: they value fund raising over rebuilding communities, politics over people, and have little regard for those with little money or political clout.

So the question for today is: Will any of the Republican or Democratic candidates for president emerge as part of the new breed of leaders? Tonight’s debate provides an opportunity to gauge the kind of leader that each of the major candidates for the Republican nomination will be.  When the candidates debate in Dearborn, Michigan tonight, I am looking for those who skipped the Morgan State debate to address their absence in two important ways.

• First, they should make sure the issue is on the table. If a direct question is not put to them, then they should raise the topic themselves, no matter the time limits, ground rules, or angst they create.
• Second, when talking about Morgan State, the candidates face a fundamental choice: do they dodge the issue or make excuses about busy schedules while reciting talking points crafted by spin doctors, or do they speak clearly and directly about their absence and what we should make of it.

Usually I would caution us not to read too much into a single event, that the test of people’s authenticity comes only over time. But the truth is that tonight actually brings into sharp relief a question many people have had about these candidates: who are they and what do they value. This is a crystallizing moment in the campaign and the nation: will any of the top tier candidates step up and speak to us?

Click here to download a set of questions to consider as you think about these candidates' answers to questions about Morgan State

The last seven days have made a week to remember. We started off with Imus in the Morning, abruptly returned to the Duke rape case, and now find ourselves facing the unimaginable tragedy at Virginia Tech. Meanwhile, troubling scenes from Iraq and Afghanistan of U.S. soldiers (and locals) being maimed and killed, only escalate. All this activity makes one wonder if we have momentarily lost our senses.

• Could it be true, for instance, that a relatively silent but corrosive racism lingers just beneath the surface of society – and that it exists to a much greater extent than we are willing to admit or deal with?

• How was it that a popularly-elected district attorney could hijack a case that put three college-aged kids through hell, while much of society stood by and cheered him on, reflexively assuming the students were guilty?

• How many U.S. soldiers must die – and how many Iraqi and Afghan people must perish – before there is an open and honest debate over a real course for this war. How long will we allow our leaders, news media, and others simply to use the war for rhetorical and political games?

• At what point are we willing to tell demagogues to go home with their belligerent and hurtful words – no matter their political party, race, or religion? When will we tell them to stop polluting our public square?

• What should we say to kids across America about the situation at Virginia Tech? Is it that something in society has gone awry, or are they to believe that such violence – from Virginia Tech to Columbine to 9/11 to the war overseas – is just part of their times?

My own sense is that while most people want to find ways to remain safe and secure, sometimes even withdrawing form the larger society, they believe deeply that events such as those we have witnessed this week require a response. There is a yearning among people to reconnect; a desire to give better shape to our society; a hope that we can take a different course.

To make our aspirations real will require that we reclaim the public square – nothing less. I say this not to promote one particular position or another on some specific challenge. Instead, my point is that changing our path requires that we engage with the kinds of questions I listed earlier – with our kids, with each other, with leaders.

We must know that there is no magic mechanism for easily engaging all of us on such topics; there is no single way to cultivate and harness our public sentiments and ultimately our political will to change course.

The starting point is with each of us – to make these issues our own, to make our voices heard (from discussions at home and in our schools, through polls and town meetings, to call-in shows, etc), and to make clear what we hold to be valuable. Then we can feel more safe and secure, and possibly make sense of these trying times.

We can each start now in our own small ways. Eventually such efforts do make a difference, because eventually they do get heard. That’s how we see movement, however big or small, on such concerns as the war and global climate change and various local issues.

If you agree with me, pass this entry along to others. Talk with them. We can reclaim the public square, piece by piece.

I have a visceral negative reaction when I hear about “charity” these days. I’m not sure my reaction is either healthy or wise, but then again it keeps coming up. I can’t seem to escape it as I travel the country. Maybe someone can set me straight. Think about the following: • When I brought my daughter to visit colleges this past week, all the schools talked about “service.” Indeed, at one university, the tour guide proudly proclaimed that a few “needy students” are brought to the campus green every year to paint their desks with the help of college students. She beamed when telling us how great her fellow co-eds feel about the experience. • I am running into more and more people who have taken or plan to send their kids to Costa Rica (or some other destination) to build housing for the poor. • During my recent visit to New Orleans, I was taken aback by the sheer size of that community’s challenge and yet how long it takes for a single group of individuals to rebuild a single home. • A recent Google Foundation study noted that a significant portion of charitable giving does not go to people in need, but supports things like religious organizations (non-soup kitchen-type activities, like a concert I just attended) and people’s favorite local non-profits – all worthy causes, but many support of our own immediate interests and not the most needy among us. These and other efforts lead me to a series of questions that I hope you’ll have something to say about: • What happens when the efforts of volunteers get more emphasis than the people in need? This question is no red herring. Increasingly, for baby boomers and their kids (I’m just barely included in this group!), we’re told over and over that “It’s all about you!” and “We’re working hard to give you a great volunteer experience!” While it may be essential to find new ways to ‘hook” people into volunteering, we must not make volunteering the next new consumer-driven experience. It’s the person in need who should be the focus of our concerns. • When people go to another country to volunteer, do they understand that needs exist right here in their local communities? I’m not saying that having an “international experience” is not useful or important. After all, the Peace Corps is wonderful and has been for years. But as I hear people talk about volunteering, especially for a week or so, it sometimes seems as if they’re going on a travel excursion or vacation rather than going off to help their fellow human beings. At times, we can sound on the verge of creating a culture of “designer volunteer trips.” What’s more, some of the same people who boast about their international volunteering seem to have little knowledge of the needs right next door. • When is volunteering important but not enough – and when should we push for change? Indeed, it seems that we can sometimes use volunteering as a way to put-off larger societal decisions that we need to make. Take the magnitude of the Gulf Coast situation: while individual volunteers are needed (and do incredible work), a larger collective response is required, too, if that area is to combat inadequate public schools, poor housing, and other ailments. I believe that citizen action in areas like the Gulf Coast, and in our own communities, is pivotal to bringing about real and sustainable change; but such action must be more than the kind of volunteering I’ve mentioned above. • How should we think about the impact of our volunteering? Surely, we can talk about the personal and spiritual growth that occurs within each volunteer. I’m all for that; indeed, I have personally benefited from such engagement. But what about the impact on the students with the desks I mentioned earlier – while one or two, or even five, newly painted desks are all for the good, let us not mistakenly think that we’ve licked the educational problem in that or other communities. Nor should building a few homes in Costa Rica allow us to believe that fundamental issues in that area have been resolved. Instead, in our desire to help, in our genuine giving, we must maintain a clear sense of understanding in what we have achieved – and what remains to be done. My concern is that we sometimes allow the very idea and act of volunteering to lull us into a safe comfort zone in which we don’t have to face up to the larger change that is required in society. I’m sure some of us feel that we can’t effect larger change, so we’ll start by painting a desk or two. Then, at least someone is helped. True enough, someone is helped by such acts of kindness. And these acts help to make a better society, in many, many different ways. But when it comes to volunteering, I want us to be more forthright about our efforts and more focused on those people truly in need.

Among the key ideas I find myself emphasizing as I travel the country is the following: I believe people are born with innate goodness and they are in search of ways to express it – especially nowadays. This may seem like either pure pablum to some people or obvious to others. But in my travels, neither is true. Indeed, when I remind people of this notion – when I voice it publicly – their faces quickly show a sign of relief and possibility. What I am not suggesting is that evil or bad things don’t exist; we all know they do. But so too does our innate goodness. Of course, this goodness is seen clearly and convincingly from time-to- time when we are called to respond to a major crisis like Hurricane Katrina, or when we witness it in our individual private lives. But in public life the notion of innate goodness is too often missing or even belittled. It has been crowded out by the acrimony and divisiveness thrust upon us; by a politics which gauges a candidate’s success by their ability to raise record-breaking amounts of donations, even if the candidate fails to reflect our concerns; by an obsession with the personal destruction of opponents and the near-constant questioning of each other’s motivations. The result of these and other trends is to denigrate and cheapen public life. They signal to people that goodness has little or no place in our public arena. They warn people that unless they are ready to do battle under the current rules of engagement, they will be run over or run out. Just when do we say enough is enough? When do we say to these purveyors of mistrust and mischief that they have no right to take over the public arena and make a mockery of people’s genuine concerns and heart-felt aspirations? Last week I visited Hartsville, South Carolina and just weeks before, I was in Newark, New Jersey. I suspect many people would think that these two places could not be more different from each other – here, a Red state and Blue state; a rural community and an urban area; one place in relatively good economic shape, the other still desperate. But in reality people in both places had similar things to say – and most of them are tired of a public life and politics that takes us no place good. I have said much about how to improve public life and politics here in this space; yes, I believe that progress will come by building small pockets of change to propel us forward; by us standing publicly next to good leaders who need our support and for whom we must vouch; by creating boundary spanning organizations that can span across dividing lines and help up us to see each other and work together. But today, what I want to say most of all is what I have come to say over and over again on the road: People hold an innate sense of goodness and it is waiting to be expressed. The task of our leaders and of ourselves is to make room for this innate goodness – to give it space to emerge and find its expression; to harness it in ways that enable people to join together for productive common purposes; and to tell stories that reflect its power and persuasion. But let’s be clear. Emphasizing our innate goodness is not simply about charity or volunteering. It is about our most basic orientations in public life and politics – about whether we hold the belief that we are capable of finding ways to come together even amid our disagreements and dislikes, or whether we will retreat to the sidelines to allow negativity and inaction to win the day.

How is it, I wondered, that we could leave a city in such utter despair and destruction – and for so long? This past week, I traveled to New Orleans for a Hands On Network conference and took two hours to quietly ride through the city. Not too long ago the phrase “shock and awe” was used so cavalierly to describe our military prowess in Iraq; in New Orleans (and perhaps other parts of the Gulf Coast) that phrase applies, too, but only to describe what remains.

What I came to know through news accounts failed to prepare me for what I encountered in person. In some areas, the destruction goes on for block after block. Many homes are about to literally fall down. Boards have been ripped off their frames; windows and doors are gone. Parts of New Orleans are unfathomable ghost towns. Many owners have put their homes up for sale; but who among us would buy these homes?

On occasion you will find a rebuilt house amid the rubble. From time to time, I could see three or four kids playing in the street; where did these kids live? I also wondered what it would mean for people to come back to these neighborhoods. Can you imagine living in the only rebuilt house on an entire street among deserted blocks – for how long could anyone withstand that sense of isolation and despair and loneliness?

Some schools are still shut down, left crumbling, disserted, overrun by trash or weeds. Other schools seemed half open, with the lights ablaze in some dismal- looking classrooms, while other parts of the building appeared cordoned off, as if they had a giant tourniquet to forestall the spread of disease.

Then there are the infamous “FEMA trailers.” Entire parking lots filled with small white trailers, one lined up right after the other, with just enough room for people to park their car or truck in front, with no room for kids to play, spaced out exactly for efficiency in order to squeeze each one in. I drove past a liquor store on the highway with bright neon signs; there, too, were trailers.

When I first saw the trailers all lined up, you could think you’re looking at storage lots for a trailer company, just waiting to ship out their newest model to happy weekend travelers. But these trailers, in these mind-numbing lots, are now home for people. Many other trailers sit in front yards of destroyed houses. The people seem to be waiting, but for what?

I kept thinking about where else I have been witness to such scenes. I have worked in Flint, Newark, Detroit, New York, and other cities as well as many rural areas and I have seen poverty and destruction and much despair. Each time it is heart-breaking.

But here it happened all at once; here we made pledges to respond; here we sent down record-breaking amounts of charity; here we continue to fail to fulfill our promises. Many of the conditions that we now face in New Orleans – such as poverty, poor public schools, corruption, racism, and other issues – existed long before Hurricane Katrina and Rita. And let’s be clear: some of these problems were a result of irresponsible inaction over many years on the part of leaders in New Orleans. Indeed, before the hurricanes I was asked to come down and work in the city – but disagreements slowed that work and ultimately choked it off.

But none of this is an excuse for what is happening now in New Orleans. Recently, President Bush traveled to the city to tell people that he and the federal government would not forget them. Other leaders have made similar claims. But, when you drive through, and you think about the condition of people’s lives, there is little sign that people have been remembered.

Good deeds are being done by many courageous groups in New Orleans and throughout the Gulf Coast. But those acts of goodwill do not take any of us off hook – whether we live in New Orleans or throughout the rest of the nation.

The phrase “Shock and Awe” was probably cobbled together by some overly clever speechwriter or public relations person to help us imagine the destruction that would rain down upon Iraq. Little did we know that we would have to face up to our own shock and awe right here.

Let us respond.

I have often wondered what it would be like if we were all moving in one direction, now I know. Brenda Dizon, Guest Blogger

How does one convey to a broader audience the potential that exists in the public library to transform community?  This probably sounds at first like a pretty big assumption for what many people still see as a rather passive institution.  But stop to consider the library's assets.  Public libraries tend to be institutions that are trusted.  This is huge in today's world where there is a tendency to question the motives and intent of private and public institutions.  The library has been able to retain this trust in part because it has been able to preserve its heritage of providing service that is very individualized.  At the same time it has adopted technologies that enable it to reach a wider mass audience.  It's not uncommon for libraries to boast of the fact that more people pass through their doors than many of the most high profile events in their community combined.  Libraries tend to be places that all aspects of the community visit on a regular basis and concurrently. 

When people think of libraries, they tend to think of books, of tables and quiet study spaces.  These places still exist in libraries.  This is part of their heritage that works and that is being preserved as new technologies and forms of media are being added.  But people tend to think less often about what libraries are increasingly doing in the way of early childhood education and technology training.  They tend not to think about how the library uses its knowledge to aid non-profits seeking funds or how individuals use the institution's resources to prepare themselves for new careers. 

I have spent a great deal of effort engaged in activities that have helped me to understand the broad needs of the community in which my library rests.  Rarely has there been a community challenge that was not susceptible in some way to being aided by a library asset.  The biggest challenge for libraries is not figuring out how to be relevant.  The biggest challenge is where to focus its relevance.  The institution stands in a position where it often has needed resources.  But, like any organization, its capacity is limited by time, talent and energy.  It must be strategic in applying its assets.  For those working in libraries, this means they must be engaged in the life of the community to the extent necessary to understand its priorities.  And they must understand the assets of their institution well enough to know how they can be most effectively applied.

Carlton Sears, Guest Blogger

In thinking about electronic forms of communication and the implications for civic life, it is important to think about the socialization patterns of today's youth, human development, and the function of community.  First of all, today's youth is very different from times past.  Where back yard games were once played out with the negotiation of rules and the determination of who was safe and who was out decided by one's peers, we now have organized leagues controlled by some form of adult authority. In truth, children are rarely unsupervised these days. They need day timers to keep track of their schedules and no schedule is made without parental involvement and the guarantee of adult supervision.  Whether it is soccer moms or football dads, parents are out there or at least making sure that someone is out there providing "proper" supervision.  This means that the determination of who's out and the rules of play are no longer negotiated between peers.   This means that the creation of rules of interaction, social norms, and values are externally controlled by adults.  While the significance of this can't entirely be known, it is important to think about the skills and attitudes that are no longer realized through childhood play.  The ability to argue, to make a point, to see difference, to work through that difference toward an agreement, to believe that one can solve a problem through communication might be some of the possibilities.  Thankfully there is space out there that is not dominated by adults, the Web.

Today children's unsupervised domain is the Web. Granted limitations need to be made over which sites are visited but some of these sites provide children with the opportunity to learn through interaction with others.  They can create fictional characters in these online games and learn how to negotiate and trade goods to develop points allowing greater privileges in the game. They can learn who to trust and what it means to break trust. They can learn how their desire to be successful is often tied to others and to external cooperation. These are the skills, attitudes and perceptions that might help them when their own self interest calls them into the broader realm of civic life.

Now not all games provide this potential for civic learning but why couldn't we try to promote such games.  Why can't we use the opportunities of the Web to enable students to hear different perspectives and to learn different uses of language to express the world in ways unfamiliar to them? The technology is there and student motivation is there.  We need only to promote the uses of these technologies toward a better end, an end that is not limited solely to entertainment.

Of course, the creation of virtual communities and learning through electronic forms of communication is limited.  In the online world, one can change identity, use inappropriate language, and have no stake in civility.  It is only in the face-to-face world where consequences for behavior, good or bad, take place.  It is only within a physically interactive social context that any moral order can be determined through a process of defining and redefining our norms.  It is only in this context that children learn the harder lessons of difference and the importance of negotiating these differences in good faith.  It is only in this environment that behavior can lead to real tangible benefits as well as punishments.

In the end however, it may be the ability to connect these two worlds that hold the greatest potential for building community and developing the skills that can be used when and if civic life knocks on the door.  In online classes, it always seems that students are willing to say more and to reveal themselves, blemishes and all. In the online world we can reach beyond our neighborhood, our geographical community, and what we think we know.  In these spaces we can seek out those with whom we share some commonality. While these are important to the development of who we are as human beings, they are not sufficient.  It is still the genuine idea of community in which real consequences occur for what we do or fail to do and in which we can properly define ourselves that ultimately leads us to our role in the civic enterprise.

Peter Sawyer, Guest Blogger

Since my childhood there has always been an impalpable but very real tether binding me to libraries. Though I read often and widely as a child, it was not so much the books, but the physical space that libraries offered—a Bermuda Triangle for the mind of sorts, where readers could unapologetically get swept up in stories and daydreams—that compelled me. I remember my grandmother and I making weekly pilgrimages to the public library. The rows and rows of volumes seemed infinite and in my frustration with the improbability of ever being able to read them all, I would sometimes walk along the shelves lightly toughing the spine of each book as if comprehension could occur simply through osmosis. Every week I read a book that made me want to be something different when I grew up, one week a detective, the next week a fashion designer. In the library I could read about and try on so many lives.

The library offered a space for dreaming and for learning how to make those dreams come true.  In the midst of a south Los Angeles neighborhood that had been seemingly politically and economically abandoned after the riots of the late 1960’s, the library offered hope against a backdrop of vacant lots and scorched shells of buildings that served as evidence of the outgrowth of hopelessness.  

That I would eventually pursue a career in librarianship is neither accidental nor a surprise. Having worked in libraries in communities on both coasts, and having visited as a consultant, libraries across the nation; I am still amazed at the social capital that public-focused, mission-driven libraries can leverage in their communities. I have seen libraries that nurtured small businesses by providing sole-proprietors and family-owned businesses with the human and information resources necessary to identify and implement new ideas. I have witnessed whole neighborhoods become invested in and reinvigorated by libraries that worked with community members and stakeholders to offer relevant programming that reflected real need and highlighted existing assets. On the other hand I have also seen libraries that failed to connect with their communities and in missing that critical connection lost both public support and resonance.

I come to this institute because as someone who believes and is invested in libraries and their potential impact on the communities they serve, I want and need to expand my bag of tricks, as it were, as both a library and information science practitioner and now, as educator and administrator. Few callings are as noble as public service. If I can learn how to innovate in my role as a librarian, the time I spend here will have a personal and an exponential impact.

Tracie Hall, Guest Blogger

Are you a public innovator? If you’re reading this, I suspect you are. And I want to engage you on 10 questions I hear from public innovators repeatedly. I’m sending these questions to you just one week before the next Harwood Public Innovators Lab, which we sold out! See what these questions spur in you and write back.

1. How can I position my organization so that it not only provides worthy services or programs, but is catalytic and creates systemic change in the community?

2. How can I genuinely engage other people to see why I’m pursing the path that I am in my work – and when do I decide to keep moving forward despite their resistance?

3. How do I move my organization or group to focus on the tough, underlying questions at hand rather than to reach for the easy answers? And how do I avoid watering down our mission?

4. How do I keep our efforts aligned with the reality of our capacity, so that we have a chance to achieve results, and avoid doing things that sound good but ultimately won’t make a real difference?

5. How can I place my work in a larger conceptual framework – so that it’s possible for me and others to see the bigger picture of what we’re trying to do and why?

6. How can I sustain people’s engagement over time, especially when things get tough or move too slowly?

7. How do I take effective action when oftentimes there is limited capacity for action within our community?

8. How fast can I expect progress to come, and what should I do when everyone around me expects change seemingly overnight?

9. How can I engage my funders and supporters who don’t want to take the time to truly understand what we’re trying to do?

10. How can I keep myself going as I pursue my path?

These and other questions pervade almost every conversation I have with public innovators. I have heard them from leaders of large, fast-growing national organizations to individuals who lead small community-based groups.

What do you think? Print out the list of questions and try answering them yourself. Send in one or more of your responses so others can benefit, too.

In the meantime, I’ll be posting some thoughts on these as well as some of the individuals who are attending our Public Innovators Lab.

Be well.

"The Drum Major Instinct" is one of my favorite Martin Luther King, Jr. sermons. It asks, “What does it mean to step forward to lead and serve?” This is especially important for any of us with a burning desire to create change in our society.

So, what is the nature of your own path?

It's no accident that I waited until the day after official events ended to write about MLK. I often worry about national celebrations like MLK Day – the hoopla, the commentary, the speechifying, the parades. I suppose that's how things in mass culture unfold.

But amid all the activity I was reminded of The Drum Major Instinct, the beloved sermon about our own desire to be in front of the parade, to lead, to be recognized. I found myself gravitating toward it all weekend. So, I reached for the sermon and re-read it, yet again, much like I would read a familiar prayer, once more, able to find new meaning as I recited the words, as if for the first time.

I have selected a few lines from the sermon for you to consider. No, the fact is that I really don’t want you to “consider” them at all; I want you to engage with them – to open yourself up and let them touch you. I urge you to do so alone; then maybe find some other people to sit with. Examine your own path.

So here are three segments from The Drum Major Instinct and some questions I’ve posed to each of us:

1. "…deep down within all of us [is] an instinct. It's a kind of drum major instinct – a desire to be out front, a desire to lead the parade, a desire to be first." Is that true for you? If so, what's motivating you?

2. "I guess that's the most damaging aspect of it: what it does to the personality." King said that the desire to be out front can lead people to be "boastful," even "lie," to engage in "activities that are merely used to get attention," to "push others down in order to push himself up," for "snobbish exclusivism" and to justify "prejudice." What does the desire to be out in front of the parade do to you? What damaging aspects can you identify within yourself?

3. "If you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice… for peace… for righteousness." So said King about himself; list three things why you're a drum major – and don’t worry, they can be big or small.

Some people might say that my own desire to focus on the drum major instinct misses the point in today's rough-and-tumble world. Our focus must be on winning in partisan politics, enacting government ethic laws and campaign finance reform, creating some new technology.

I don’t doubt that these and other matters are important. But I also know that if we are not clear on why we’re leading then we will not reach our own aspirations or fill the breaches that now exist in society.

Self interest will always be a part of us; we cannot wring it out of our nature. But we can be drum majors, where our words and actions are filled with purpose greater than just our own good. Let us use MLK Day to renew our own instincts to lead the parade in the right direction. If not now, then when?

This weekend I heard the news that Cole Campbell, dean of the school of journalism at University of Nevada, Reno, was killed Friday when his car overturned on an icy road. Every once in a while you realize we’ve lost someone special who made a true impression on the world, someone who will be remembered for years to come. Cole was such an individual. He was a good friend.

During the 1990s when the newspaper industry heard the call to change its ways, Cole was at the forefront of change. I worked with him during his leadership at the Virginian Pilot and St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Some people are smart; he was brilliant. He always ran to embrace the toughest issues – such as the nexus between the role of newspapers and civic health; between the noble traditions of journalism and their applications to Web 2.0; between ethics and winning. Recently I was on a panel at the National Archives which Cole moderated. No one I know could cut through the maze of chatter and create a sense of meaning faster or better than Cole. For me, Cole stole the show that day. So many people came up to me afterwards to talk about his performance. But for Cole his engagement was neither unusual nor a performance. Indeed those in attendance were witness to just the very tip of his talents.

Cole also had a strong current of integrity running through him.

But, of course, some people were more ready to see his foibles. He pushed for change so hard that he could overwhelm people he worked with. He ended up in a relationship with a direct report at one paper which cost him dearly. It was said sometimes that he was too conceptual, too smart for his own good, too far out in front of colleagues. After Cole left the Post-Dispatch, finding the right job was not easy.

And yet each of these experiences made his sense of integrity even more alive and real. You see, Cole deeply understood the meaning of integrity. He knew it from growing up as a preacher’s son. He knew it from being tested by the mistakes he had made and then quietly searching for personal redemption. He knew it because so many people had told him that change was not possible; but he discovered that it was if he would stick by his convictions.

A lot of time is spent by people in our society trying to conform. We all do it. But in Cole Campbell we found that rare individual who was willing to step out of line and reach for his aspirations. That doesn’t always make for an easy ride; but it does make the journey ever more worthwhile.

You will be truly missed Cole Campbell.

“MyCivicSpace”…you have to admit there’s a nice ring to it. It gives rise to the potential that you, me, and anyone else can create a civic space and own it; we can even customize it to reflect our own personal whims. Makes sense given the times we live in. We have been conditioned to believe that each of us should get what we want, when we want it. But is the idea of MyCivicSpace what we really want – or need?

When I talk with people in communities across the country they express a deep urge to create more connectedness and sense of community in our society. Too many of us are fragmented and isolated from one another. So much of what needs to be done to improve our individual and common lives, requires a collective response (e.g., strengthening public schools or improving safety).

But for every time someone raises this point, notions of MySpace, FaceBook, and made-to-order Starbucks drinks are invoked. The underlying belief: our response to current conditions must be personalized and customized – that is, “made just for you & me” – and that most of us may never pay attention, engage in something bigger than ourselves, or even care about others beyond our immediate close-knit circles or community of interest.

Consider this example: at a recent meeting on the future of libraries in the U.S., the argument was made that libraries must transform themselves in ways that enable people to see the library as their personal library – “MyLibrary!” as a number of people put it.

But not so fast: for libraries are one of the last truly public institutions that remain close to people. The focus of libraries is on knowledge and learning. They ought to be what I like to call “boundary-spanning, catalytic organizations” – entities that help us in our communities to transcend dividing lines, bring people together, hold up a mirror to ourselves, and see our own experiences and the possibilities for the future in the context of understanding the past.

There once was a time in my work, maybe 15 or so years ago, when many people I encountered often wanted to erase or expunge any notion of self-interest among individuals, as if each of us could be altruistic angels. Now, we see a move toward the other extreme, where the impulse is to personalize and customize people’s engagement. Every situation is open to becoming branded and fulfilled as MySituation.

Thus the public library turns into MyLibrary; the local United Way is MyUnitedWay; the community foundation becomes MyCommunityFoundation; the public broadcasting station evolves into MyPublicBroadcasting. None of this is that far fetched; just listen to all the promos, ads, and solicitations from various groups. You’ll hear echoes of this point.

Like many of us, I am worried that too many people have retreated into close-knit circles of families and friends; that for many people, public life and politics is not relevant to their lives. I believe that if we want people to engage in community and public life, then we must start wherever they start. But our work doesn’t stop there.

For if our goal is to forge a common response to individual and collective needs, then the measure of our efforts is not simply whether we have built audience, generated buzz, created more name recognition, or even enticed more people to volunteer once-in-a-while. Our task is to foster conditions in which people can create their own pathways back into community and public life – where they can connect, work with others, find meaning, and engender authentic hope. And these pathways need to be sustainable over time.

I was once asked if I believe there is an enemy of engagement. Yes is my emphatic answer. Indeed, one such enemy is the seemingly growing belief that when people retreat from public life and politics our impulse must be to engage them as atomized individuals who hold a single-minded consumer orientation. But that will only lead to one sure outcome: each of us occupying our own individual spaces.

The question was, “Should I laugh or be bitter?” while I watched this past Saturday Robin Williams new movie, Man of the Year, in which he plays a Jon Stewart-type character who runs for president.

During one telling scene, two of Williams’ aides are found talking about why he’s done so well with the electorate. One aide responds by saying that candidates usually can’t be heard during campaigns because they all sound the same; Williams, he said was heard by people because he genuinely sounded different.

But what did he say?

Williams’ character spoke the truth about big money, special interests, silly ideas, and misleading rhetoric. He came clean with himself about his own motivations to run and ran because he was willing to lose. Compare this to our current election cycle. Oh yes, I know, many of you are delighted the Democrats might win big on Election Day, while others are concerned about just what that victory might bring.

But Williams’ movie is clear and compelling satire on our current state of public affairs regardless of who ultimately wins next week. Candidates from both parties have brought political conduct to new lows of ugliness and vacuous ideas. Their ads and debates are devoid of substance – and hope.

Just this morning on the radio, when driving into work, I heard one political consultant say that the only way a candidate can break through these days is to “go to the extremes.” To me, she was saying, “Go ahead and make a mockery out of the process in order to win!”

But as I’ve traveled the country and talked about the possibilities for a different kind of politics and public life, the response has been overwhelming. People want someone to stand up and engage people on a notion of the public good, not just their own good. They are longing to be brought together on their basic concerns such as education, safety, good neighborhoods – maybe even the war in Iraq. There is a deep desire within people to focus on authentic hope, and to put an end to the peddling of false hope.

Our political leaders and their handlers seem convinced that the only way to win is to sure up their base and then strike fear in enough other voters about their opponents to squeak out a victory.

But in Man of the Year they got the message just right: people want something more. And in this way our entertainment world is reflecting back to us our most basic aspirations for what we want in reality but cannot yet seem to create.

Before Election Day I urge you to go see Man of the Year. Maybe it will help all of us collectively articulate what is now missing from everyday life -- a politics and public life that matters. Then maybe next Tuesday in our momentary euphoria of victory, or despair in defeat, we will keep our eye on the need for real change and maintain our vigilance in seeking it.

When do you or I have a voice? Usually this question comes up in relationship to public officials – do they hear us? I’ve spent much of my professional life addressing this challenge. But today my hope is to address you personally – can you hear your own voice?

Wherever I go, this powerful and deeply personal question emerges. Just last week when I was visiting Binghamton, N.Y. a young student at Broome Community College said that it wasn’t until she took a recent debate class that she ever truly felt she had a voice.

She was trying to tell those of us in the room something basic and important. It is the same point I hear from older people who are high-paid lawyers, stay-at-home moms and dads, non-profit chiefs, and many others. They each say something similar – something very personal.

What does it mean to have a voice – at work, in the public realm, with others? Is this challenge we each face simply about gaining power; for instance, is it something you can secure by gathering up grant dollars, claim by the position you hold, or create by making enough noise?

There are moments when each of us speak and still feel we have little or no voice. We may utter words, proclaim research findings, assert a position, or perhaps make a demand. But, still, we feel that our own voice is not present. Somehow the words we speak do not come from deep within ourselves; indeed our words fail to capture the sentiments that give meaning to our life. We find that our true intentions and purpose go un-reflected.

At a Barnes and Noble book event I did in Binghamton, a storeowner in nearby Johnson City told a story of how she and fellow merchants had been waiting for the local government to create change in their downtrodden downtown. Ultimately, she told us, the local merchants got tired of waiting and formed their own partnership to clean-up their main street and bring people together.

What, she asked me, should be her next step? I told that she had already taken it. By stepping forward in the bookstore she was doing something that so many people wish they could do: gain and spread newfound confidence and faith in themselves and others.

Gaining our own voice doesn’t necessarily mean that we must solve a local community problem or take a debate class. Rather, first and foremost, it seems to me that we must step forward in our own way to know something about ourselves. How do we see things? What do we feel? What do we believe? What’s more, to know something about ourselves often means knowing something about others, too; our voice exists in relationship to others.

I told the Broome Community College students that I believe cultivating your own voice is one of the most important things they could do, especially in relationship to public life; otherwise, even in our discussions we remain oddly silent. Thus I urged them to try out their voice in different settings – in their classes; in the papers they write; in private journals that no one else may ever see or hear. They must try out their voice if they are to find it.

In our own ways, this is something we each can do. For I hear so many people say that they wish they had more of a voice. Maybe to be truly heard we must first find our own voice.