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In so many ways, the country is unraveling before our eyes. Yet, I have no doubt that in time we will respond effectively. But which paths we take will be crucial, and there are two key ingredients that we must bring to our collective efforts. As I see it, the urgent task is to restore a renewed sense of hope and empathy. Progress depends on it and here's why.

The news these days can be dangerous to your mental health. Just yesterday Citigroup slashed 52,000 jobs. General Motors is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Home foreclosures continue to shake the very foundation of people's lives and community life. AIG will receive up to $85 billion in federal help. We continue to fight two wars, and the costs keep spiraling up. The list goes on.

My belief is that we must find ways to tap into our history of hope to sustain and fortify ourselves and our efforts; and we must renew our sense of empathy so that we can understand reality for what it is, and shape the future we want. Each of us must take a piece of this work and make it our own.

If there is one lesson from American history it is that in times like these we have good reason to be genuinely hopeful. Such hope is rooted in something much more enduring and proven than mere optimism. It is neither fleeting nor shallow; it is not based on one day's news cycle, or a single speech, or one set of actions. We have witnessed hard times before and consistently found productive ways forward. Our track record is of a "can-do" nation.

This brings me to the second ingredient: empathy. In recent years our public life and politics have been driven by tools of avoidance when it comes to people's plight and pain. There has been a certain "hard-nosed" mentality, which often implied that people should fend for themselves, alongside a charitable impulse that suggested that our problems can be solved by people writing checks or volunteering for an hour. There is some merit to both approaches, but in these hard times both fall woefully short. We must turn our attention to people and not fear what we will see.

A new sense of empathy would enable us to recognize the challenges and concerns of people, and understand how we might respond. This is not some backdoor ploy to open up government coffers and mindlessly write checks to anyone or any company that expresses need. The task at hand requires much more from us. We must exercise empathy so that we are able to see and hear the realities around us, and then to make discerning judgments and choices about what should be done.

For instance, should General Motors be bailed out, and what will happen to auto workers, and their suppliers, who lose their jobs, and all the communities impacted? What about all the people whose homes have been foreclosed? How long do we keep various non-profits open, and how would we make those judgments? Can climate change be used to spur new industries and green jobs, and in what ways can we get moving locally?

The point is that we must be willing to see and hear each other in these times, and to reach into our history and within ourselves for the confidence to make the judgments and choices to move ahead. Each of us will need to step forward, and we must help each other along the way.

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Take the first step, and help others get on the path making hope and empathy real

Last week I was in San Diego with public broadcasters who were asked what they would do if they had to cut their budgets by 15-40%. Unfortunately, such a question is no longer academic for many groups and organizations. Hard times are here, and notwithstanding promises of "change," a quick economic rebound isn't likely. But so many times when we face crises and choices, our instinct is to look inward for answers. My advice: turn outward first.

There's a great deal of talk among foundations, at national conferences, and in many publications about the tough times we face. For many groups, money is tight. I suspect very few groups will be immune from the current economic downturn. Budgets are being slashed, staffs cut, programs gutted.

Experience tells me that when most of us feel under intense pressure, we turn to some trusted tools. Many organizations undertake new strategic planning, rebrand themselves, and figure out ways to generate more membership dues while trimming services. In taking such steps the impulse is to look within the organization to save ourselves, our work, and reassemble our efforts.

Recently, I spent the day with some organizational leaders facing their own challenge of shrinking resources. Over a three hour period the conversation was focused entirely inward. When I got up to speak I made the following observation: while their mission is to serve communities, barely anyone had talked about their relationship to community. Instead, the conversation focused on how to incrementally cut budgets, or conversely how to slash operations.

Indeed, the conversations revolved around how the organization could save itself. The essence of holding a public mission was lost in the desire to survive. Some people tell me that trying to maintain their public mission at this time is difficult. It is not that they want to do away with it, but they cannot see how to keep it robust.

My response is simple and straightforward. It is in these times that you must turn outward toward your community. The task is not to engage in marketing research, though that might be helpful, but to gain clarity on the following points:

 * What are the real needs and aspirations of people in your community -- and how do they relate to your organization's mission;
 *  What are the essential priorities for your work -- so that your efforts are relevant and significant within the community;
 *  What does impact mean -- so that you are focused only on those areas where you are making a genuine contribution;
 *  What assets do you have to put up against this work -- and what other assets exist somewhere in the community?

Without having clear answers to such questions, how could we possibly know where to focus and what shape our organizations should take? How could we know what to cut, where to refocus, which staff we most need? How could we do yet another strategic planning exercise; what inputs would we use? Would rebranding ourselves, again, matter?

When each of us steps forward to engage in the work we do, we make a basic (usually implicit) choice about the direction we face. Most of the time, we face inward toward ourselves, our colleagues, our organizations. I'm suggesting we assume a different posture, one that has us turn outward toward our communities. By looking outward we discover what we need to know to make the tough choices we face, and find paths for change.

We are coming off an election in which hope and change were the watchwords. Part of that change will come from the work that you and many others are doing to make a difference in our society. Even with all the excitement about change, I know this period of economic downturn will be hard for many of you, and I hope that you find the resources, insights, and colleagues you need to move ahead in your work and efforts. You're fighting the good fight: now, let's turn outward.

I've resisted writing this piece today, but as I sat down to type this morning, it has just poured out. Just 24 hours before Election Day, the nation learned that Senator Barack Obama's grandmother passed away, unable to experience the (expected) joy of watching her grandson become the next president of the United States. But her death at this late moment in the campaign introduced something that can easily be lost in campaigns and governing, and which our country so desperately needs: a renewed sense of humanity.

My resistance in writing this piece is because I feel that I should be talking about the larger history Obama might make tonight, or the larger trends that are at work in this election cycle, or the larger meaning of this election for people doing public work on the ground. Writing about his grandmother? Yes, I confess I am pulled in that direction this morning.

The senator stands at the precipice of monumental achievement in what seems like an unfolding fable. He is the young man who experienced an incredible rise to power, and ready to claim to the "brass ring," only to be profoundly brought back to earth by his grandmother's death. As the whole nation looked on, he had to navigate his mixed emotions and keep his bearings.

But, alas, this is not a fable. Senator Obama and the rest of us are reminded of our common fragility and mortality. We are reminded that even amid the pundits' bluster, campaign tactics, and hopes that our candidate (whoever that is) will win, people remain at the center of all this. Perhaps the central character in this unfolding drama has been reminded of this reality as a stand-in for the rest of us.

But the message is really to us, not simply the senator and potential president. The loss of Senator Obama's grandmother reminds us what our work is about: that each child needs caring adults in their life; that expert-driven policies are actually about real individuals and families; that communities provide the support system for people to live and flourish, and thus we must tend to the health of communities; that not everyone has the same opportunities in our land.

It is easy for people to get pushed aside in our politics and public life. Our strength is gauged by how we outfox our opponents, or can get funding for our efforts, or gain publicity. Sure, each of these is needed at different times. But they are not what our efforts are about.

If want to make progress, any kind of progress, then we must return a greater sense of humanity in our politics and public life. We need to see and hear each other again. We need to resist mechanistic responses that deny people's ability to truly engage and express their aspirations and concerns. We need empathy -- not sympathy that asks us to take up each other's cause, but a willingness to understand a different perspective and to welcome different insights. We need to be willing to think about the common good, and not just own good.

Yesterday, in Charlotte, Senator Obama called his grandmother a "quiet hero" and "the person who encouraged and allowed us to take chances." Each of us needs to be the quiet hero to return a sense of humanity back in our public life and politics. All good fables tell us that the hero can never make it on his or her own; there are always quiet heroes involved in any journey.

One week out from Election Day, and there's much to consider. You probably already know who you'll vote for, so that's done. But how are you feeling about the state of things these days and about where we're headed as a country? And what about your own efforts to create hope and change -- how might they change given the election? Take the self-assessment and see where you come out.

For me, it often feels like the general election never really took off, which is strange given just how many deep challenges the nation confronts. The short list includes an economic collapse, two wars, global climate change, and the housing crisis, not to mention all the issues that exist beyond these immediate headlines.

It's enough to make your head spin. So, what's next? No matter what, we'll have a new president in just over a week. Given that, here are some questions to consider:

1. What two or three big priorities should the country tackle, and how optimistic are you that we can make real progress?

2. What's the condition of politics and public life in your local community, what should be done in the next six months to make a positive difference?

3. How much hope do you feel today -- and why?

I hope you'll think these questions over and respond. I'm curious as to how you see things, and how you feel about them. We're potentially at a major juncture in history. So, please, jot down your responses and post them in the comments below or email them to me at rharwood at theharwoodinstitute.org. I'll be in touch.

In this week's video blog Rich explores the difference between data and knowledge, between information and understanding and sets forth a litmus test for each of us to check whether those in our community are likely to see us as holding authority.

The people's fury has been unleashed and it isn't pretty. During this past week we've witnessed outbursts of hatred and name-calling at presidential rallies as intense economic pressures mount and when people feel heightened insecurity about their future. We all have a stake in how this plays out. The task is to draw the line on hatred and name-calling -- and this goes for supporters of both candidates.

Hatred and name-calling are insidious. They seep into our public discourse, sometimes without us fully realizing it, until they hit us on the head and demand our attention. What occurred this past week at McCain/Palin rallies was deeply troubling. Unseemly supporters called Senator Barack Obama an Arab, accused him of being a terrorist, and shouted "kill him" and "off with his head." In Virginia, the Republican state party chair continually referred to Obama as "Hussein," an obvious ploy to make people fear the candidate.

Rhetoric from supporters on both sides can get overheated these days. And while the insults and denigration heaped on Palin by those who believe her unqualified to be VP are not as troublesome or hate-filled as those exhorting violence against Senator Obama, they do force each of us to consider whether we're willing to take a stand against such acrimony and divisiveness. Criticism is one thing, denigrating someone is something else.

Ultimately, at one rally last week, McCain grabbed the microphone from a supporter, a woman who said Obama was an Arab and declared that Obama is a "good and decent man." But was this too little, too late? I don't think so. Everyone's attention is now fixed on the campaign, and there is no better time to take on such hate-filled, name-calling.

I hasten to add that Obama has done more in this regard than McCain. Recall when news broke that Palin's daughter was pregnant; Obama was quick to step forward to say family issues were off limits. Or, just the other day, in response to McCain stepping forward and drawing the line with his supporters, Obama thanked McCain for the "reminder that we can disagree while still being respectful of each other."

But my point is bigger than any one incident or single week of campaigning. We all know that people are rip-roaring mad about the state of the economy, not to mention politics and public life writ large. They feel increasingly insecure about their economic condition, and they worry about the direction of the nation. It is in moments like these that overheated rhetoric that starts as a small brush fire can ignite into a raging blaze.

There are special moments in public life when lines need to be drawn. This is one of those times. Both candidates, and their campaigns and surrogates, must step forward and demonstrate a different kind of political debate for the good of the nation and our people. They must speak out loudly against hatred and name-calling. They must speak directly and unequivocally.

We all know when candidates speak in veiled terms either to strike fear in people's hearts or to give lip service to some pressing issue. Now is the time to discard both these tactics, and to prevent hate and name-calling from spreading, even winning.

The candidates must start today, and then they should speak directly to this challenge in their debate on Wednesday, and then continue thereafter. You and I must also be part of this: keep track of what you say to people about the opposing side and their supporters, and see if you are adding to current conditions. It is by word of mouth that positive and negative conditions spread in society. In each election, each side wants to win. But, no matter the outcome, hate and name-calling should find no hiding place in our society.

When I opened the newspaper this morning, I had a distinct sinking feeling. The presidential campaign was about to descend into more lies, hypocrisy, and deception even amid the economic tailspin and people's rising anxiety. Is this approach what we need over the next 28 days, and what can we hope for?

Every four years during a presidential race, at this very time, we are encouraged to guess what will be the "October Surprise." This year, some onlookers have suggested we already know: the Wall Street crisis. No doubt, the economic crisis took the country by storm and is changing the dynamics of the presidential race. John McCain, who was once even with Obama in national polls, now trails Obama nationally and in major battleground states.

But, sadly, the dynamic that is most shaping this race is not the economic crisis, but the increasing intensity of lies, hypocrisy, and deception that rule the day. When this campaign started, many people, including myself, thought it was a golden opportunity for a real debate between competing visions for the nation's future. Remember that? Here were two men of honor, both remarkable in their own right, both passionate and eloquent defenders for what they value, both clearly patriots, who would engage each other and us.

I always thought these debates would be energetic, tough-minded, and highly-spirited; this is no time for Kumbayah and empty niceties. But I was wrong. Instead, it appears that we are about to witness a scorched-earth approach to campaign politics. We are told that the debate will now descend into attacks on Obama's associations from decades ago, McCain's Keating Five involvement, and whatever else can be dug up. More negative ads that seek to strike fear into people will bombard us. Each day I go online and to newspapers and see another campaign ad declared untruthful, inaccurate, or deceptive.

I've worked on campaigns (over 20) and understand that they are tough business. And I know that campaigns are about winning. There are real consequences at stake. But I cringe as I sit here and think about watching tonight's debate. Will it be more of the same trash talk? Will they blatantly distort one another's records? Will they help prepare us for the tough work that stands before the nation?

Here are just some examples of what I mean:

Will they squarely address what it might take to get the nation out of this economic mess? This isn't simply about positioning a single policy proposal, as if this problem can be fixed with a magic wand, but requires a larger and longer discussion.

How will their ideas actually affect people living in small and large towns in, for instance, Pennsylvania and Ohio that I visited recently? I don't want to hear the litany of proposals they usually offer, but a real sense of what can be done in these towns and what, if any, role the federal government can realistically play?

What's their vision for America in a world in which relationships, issues, and nations have been turned on their heads?

What does it mean for individuals Americans to re-engage with each other and in public life to rebuild relationships and address common concerns (and please don't reel off a new "program" that will involve a relatively few people).

Of course, my biggest hope would be for a genuine October Surprise. Imagine this: one or both of the candidates taking their place on stage at tonight's debate and declaring that their job is only to outline a clear vision for how America can move forward and what role we all can play -- without any lies, hypocrisy, or deceptions. I know both have tried this approach, to varying degrees. But now we need it more than ever. This is an October surprise I would welcome.

In the time of a few short weeks, your nomination as vice president has imploded, plain and simple. Since your selection, you have been belittled on Saturday Night Live, silenced by your own campaign, and humiliated on the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric. With Thursday's VP debate fast approaching, you face two fundamental choices, neither of which is easy, but which will define your candidacy. Not long ago, I wrote that people should give you a chance, but now time is running out. What are you to do?

Apparently, Sen. John McCain's attempt to shake up the presidential race by selecting you as his running mate has backfired. Sure, his strategy worked for a matter of days. But then he and his handlers decided to marginalize you, sensing that deep trouble was ahead. Even conservative leaders, many of whom once championed your cause, have started to jump ship. You are now widely seen as a liability to your party, perhaps the nation as a whole. All alone, what should you do?

I believe you face two basic choices. First, you can withdraw. I suspect many people are cheering as they read this choice. They may see your nomination as an affront to politics, an assault on the seriousness of our times, an insult to their intelligence. My bet is that these individuals are yearning for a distinct combination of inspiration and competence in their national leaders. They want to know that we, as a nation, are headed in a new direction, with enough smarts and insights to figure out how to get there. And for some of these people, you are, Governor Palin, seen as an impediment on that path to change.

Perhaps all this is true, except I still do not believe you should withdraw. For better or worse, John McCain invited you to join his ticket, and the Republican convention delegates gave their approval. You should stay on the ticket, but only if you are willing to take the second choice.

What made you appealing to certain voters was your authenticity, except that now you and the campaign have come dangerously close to totally undermining it. In the span of just a few weeks, since the convention, you have sought to do what no one in public life should ever do: become something you're not. From what I can tell, you were selected because you were a governor who addressed various state-related issues (such as energy), a stand-up reformer, and someone who would excite the Republican base. Now, people are testing you on what you know about Russia, Pakistan, and other foreign policy issues; you have been asked to undertake a cram course and declare your expertise. But is success even possible?

Instead, this second choice is to be truly authentic about who you are and what you know. It is to step forward and say what is obvious:  you are a young governor, of a rural state, who has had to deal with a host of issues, and that, from your perspective you have done a good job with policy and political reform. Only a few governors could come into this realm with expertise on foreign policy issues. For you, that expertise will be gained only over time. Meanwhile, a President McCain and his advisors will need to guide the ship, with your insights and help.

But let's be clear: taking this path will require real courage on your part. The game of turning Sarah Palin into someone and something she is not will need to end. You will need to stand up to the McCain handlers who have cynically put you forward on campaign posters, only to muzzle you publicly. You will need to reclaim your own voice.

You will also need a healthy dose of humility. For this choice requires self-awareness -- that even though you have been nominated for vice president (heady stuff), you are not well versed in certain issues and matters. You can cram policy and position papers all you want, and still not know all that much about the topics covered. This second choice demands that you represent your campaign's positions, but that you not try to fool anyone, most of all yourself.

So, Governor, these are the two options as I see them today. My own hope between now and Election Day is that the nation engages in a genuine debate about our future. But for you to take part in this debate, you would be well-advised to come clean with your present state of affairs. Time is running out.

I can't help but think that the financial fiasco we now face has similar markings to the War in Iraq. This is not something I say lightly, but is something that needs to be said. For why is it that on the most vital issues of the day we so quickly rush to judgment, while trivial matters receive endless attention? When it comes to Wall Street, let's not make the same mistakes we made in Iraq.

Last night I finished Bob Woodard's latest book, "The War Within." It's a good read, even though key parts of it seem overwritten, especially where Woodward switches from reporting to outright editorializing. But the facts speak for themselves: time and again the president and this administration put their heads in the sand and refused to acknowledge and adapt to on-the-ground realities. What's more, they failed repeatedly to square up with the American people.

Just as troubling were Bush's military-advisors who seemed AWOL, while Democrats on Capitol Hill were nowhere to be found. Both groups appeared timid, afraid to risk their political capital or, more likely, their political position. Recall the lead-up to the war in Iraq, where most everyone was cowed into falling into line, fearful of assaults on their patriotism, worried that they would seem less than manly if they asked for evidence of danger.

Will this same dynamic takeover in the current financial crisis? While it's clear that some form of action is required to stabilize our nation's financial situation, I'm not an economist so I cannot adequately "blog" on various technical solutions. But I do know that when a herd mentality takes over in public life, it is not a good sign. Nor is it promising when people are told not to raise tough questions because "We need to get the job done." And I don't take comfort when all of a sudden a few people huddle together with the President and declare a solution.

By all means, leadership is required now. 535 members of Congress should not get the opportunity to place their personal imprint on this legislation. But rushing to judgment  on a $700 billion remedy; bypassing any kind of real oversight into the future; allowing Wall Street executives to run off with millions in golden parachutes while hard-hit Americans must forfeit their homes -- well, are these the values we want in place? Before we act is the right time to reveal, debate, and choose the values we want to guide our choices.

There is always a delicate balancing act between moving ahead quickly and making room for genuine debate. But this is not a simple "either/or" choice, and we ought not to let it become one. In fact, real leadership is the ability to understand this tension and to move ahead deftly.

If Woodward's reporting is to be believed, at critical moments in the Iraq War, the president failed to seek out the advice of his military leaders, only to be counseled by those individuals who already supported his views; meanwhile, those left outside his inner circle did not adequately raise their voices and push a different point of view. There was a rush to judgment, and a failure to engage.

Now, we face a domestic crisis, which could spill over into a major global crisis, and similar questions haunt us. Will we rush judgment, again? And will there be a failure to engage? My hope is that this time our response will be different.

If we expect our elected officials to put their political capital and positions on the line are we willing to stand next to them and stand by them?  Learn more about what it takes to support a new breed of leaders in Rich's latest essay: Make Hope Real. 

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"Next time, knock his teeth out!" This is what a parent told her son to do the next time a kid hits him.  At first I thought that she and her three friends were talking about the kids on the lacrosse field, where our sons were playing. But I soon found out this story was more complicated than that. It is a story that reminds us of how out of control things feel nowadays, how angry people are, and how something we cherish can get away from us. It is about the condition of our society and our lives.

There were four parents in all, each one more frustrated and agitated than the next. They were standing so close to me that it was impossible not to hear what they were saying. They started out talking about how they had told their sons that the next time they get hit to make sure they hit back so hard that the other kid can't get up. That’s when one of the parents said, "I told my son, if you're going to get hit, make sure you knock his front teeth out. Make sure he doesn't have any teeth left." Her rage and vehemence was palpable.

My initial reaction was to take a step closer to them to say something: that we shouldn't be instilling such rage into our kids; that I don’t want my son knocking some other kid's front teeth out; that sports should be about more than cleaning someone's clock. But it became clear that there was more to their story. Their kids had been repeatedly bullied at school by a kid who evidently had been known for misbehaving and charged for burglary and other misdeeds. When their kids had fought back, school officials punished them by tossing them off the school's cross-country team.

The parents were trading stories of how they furiously called the school to talk to administrators, they sent emails, and they even worked the local news media angle. No response, which produced even more anger. Standing there at the lacrosse game, they recounted how the school essentially had become a fortress, with people inside being unwilling to answer questions and engage in any way. All these parents knew was that their kids had been forced from the cross-country team, and the bully remained in school, untouched, seemingly protected by the system.

What's clear is that I don't have the facts, just hearsay. But I recognized the raw frustration and anger in these parents' voices. It was rooted in their experience with yet another public system letting them down, ignoring their voices and concerns. In response, these parents decided to create their own rules to regain some semblance of control, retribution, revenge, even satisfaction. My own travels across the country tell me that this scene is not uncommon; instead of a bully, other antagonists and unresponsive systems are at work in people's daily lives.

I understand these parent's anger, but I must say that I was repulsed standing there and listening to them spew such rage, even hatred. I don't want any parent, however angry, saying to their kid that "Next time, knock their teeth out!" I don't want parents assuming that they can make up the rules of society and produce a sense of mayhem simply because they're pissed off. I didn't read this in some parenting book or magazine; I just know it in my gut.

That said, we must recognize that people are out of sorts, they do not feel they are being heard, they are feeling squeezed. This is not simply a middle class dilemma; it exists all across the spectrum. Calls for "hope" without acknowledging people's anger and frustration will not do; nor will simply tapping into people's anger, egging them on, even telling lies, to win the day. Rather, we have a lot of work to do to create a sense of being heard and belonging -- and mutual responsibility -- if we are to regain our footing.

This is a challenge we face at every level of society. Each and all of us must know this; we must address it. We must see it as "our" concern.

Meantime, I keep wondering what I might say to those parents when I see them again, perhaps this weekend.  

These are ugly times. Nearly 80 percent of Americans believe the country is headed in the wrong direction. The economy is going downhill. Two wars remain open-ended. The presidential campaign is in danger of becoming a caricature of itself. In times like these, we want to say, "Enough!" Here's how.

I could give you a long treatise on where we are, or a prescription for what to do next, but neither would hit the mark of what I sense is needed right now. At issue is how you and others of goodwill can change the dynamics of how we're living and where we're headed. How can you gain some semblance of control over current affairs? What can you do to feel that your good values and authentic hopes are better reflected in these ugly times?

To tackle these challenges, I offer you these 7 Questions for Ugly Times. My goal here is not some kind of silly engagement ploy -- you know, "Let's get more people holding hands and singing Kum-ba-yah," or something like that. Rather, it is only by talking with others, in real ways, that any of us can sort out and know what we really think; it is only then, that you can begin to see and hear yourself.

When you step forward and join with others you can change the current conditions.

I urge you to think about these 7 Questions for Ugly Times on your own, and then to find one or two other people to talk with. (The questions are in a particular order to help you think about things, so you'll want to follow the sequence.) Here are the questions:

1.  What do you think of how things in the country are going today -- and why?

2.  What are you most concerned about?

3.  What aspirations do you hold these days?

4.  What urge exists within you to make your community and life better?

5.  Name 2 things (and only 2) you can do, starting now, that can help you fulfill your aspirations and meet your urge within.

6.  Looking ahead, how will you know you have made progress on these 2 items?

7.  What does it mean to you to make good on your urge to do good?

Please send me back any and all of your thoughts. You can reply here on the blog, or send me a direct email at rharwood@theharwoodinstitute.org.  My hope is that not only you will share your thoughts with those closest to you, but with our growing network, so that together we can create the kind of change we need.

Each of us knows that none of us alone can change the direction of the country, or even our local community. But when we become clearer about what we hold to be valuable in our lives, when we come to more fully understand and express those beliefs, and when we take small steps forward, we will find ourselves moving in the right direction. Our choices can better reflect who we are. We can create the community we want. These steps are the beginning of all small change, and it is the seedbed for larger things to come.

Today, there is a vast reservoir of untapped energy in the country -- in you, and in others. People want to be a part of something larger than themselves and they want to make a difference. Now, turn your frustrations into something good.

Answer these 7 Questions for Ugly Times. In doing so, you can find ways to better fulfill your own hopes, and you can make good on your urge to do good.

I'm anxious to hear from you.

John McCain's selection of Governor Sarah Palin as his running mate is raising a helluva lot of questions -- not only about McCain and Palin, but about us. What values and filters do we bring to this scene? What assumptions about other people do we make? How fast are we to judge others? I know there's some risk in what I'm about to say, but here it goes.

Over the long Labor Day Weekend, I found myself involved in a number of conversations about Palin. Since last week's announcement we've learned more about Palin and with each passing day comes a new disclosure. At first the focus was on her experience; then it moved to whether a mom of five kids, one a special needs child should even be running for VP; then there was the disclosure of her 17-year old daughter's pregnancy. And I'm sure more will follow.

Amid these stories have been our own conversations, within our families, among our friends, at weekend get-togethers. I have felt increasingly uncomfortable in these conversations. I have heard people state with great assuredness that Palin should never have returned to work so soon after the birth of her four-month old child; that parents of a special needs child should be at home full-time, because that is what is required; that Palin cannot work with five kids and still be a good mom.

In these conversations, I remained silent at first, wondering to myself how people can be so sure of themselves. They imposed a set of values they are convinced are the right ones -- indeed, the only ones -- and that no alternatives exist. I sat there and asked myself how many people like Sarah Palin do they know? I wish they would come with me into the homes of people I have met and worked with all across the nation, people who live their lives with goodness, decency, and sincerity, but in ways different than their own.

In each conversation, I found myself saying that many people work because they have to -- they have no choice. Moreover, I have said that I know two families with specials needs kids where both parents work, and where there is so much love and affection that I would be more than willing to have my own two kids join those families. Further, I have wondered aloud why stay-at-home dads who were once professionals are okay, but not Palin's husband.

My questions and thoughts were dismissed out of hand. There's more, too. For instance, the reflexive disdain I've heard against evangelicals is as bad as any discrimination I have seen. The belittling of any notion of creationism (that is, that there may be some higher force at work larger than science, which is in fact what many of the best scientists in the world say), is swift and punishing; the unwillingness to even understand what proponents are trying to say is unfortunate. The assumption that small-town America is irrelevant to the experiences of a growing nation is also mystifying to me -- and a sorry state of affairs.

Let me be clear: I am not defending Sarah Palin.  To me, there is some virtue in her selection, but also the rolling of dice. But how we talk this choice is just as important as our final judgment. Why? Because so many of us want a different kind of politics in America, a politics that is more reflective of reality, more thoughtful, and more hopeful. We want a politics that transcends Red States and Blue States. We want a politics that encourages honest and tough debate, but not unnecessary discord and divisiveness. Now is our chance.

In 1984, I worked for Walter Mondale when he nominated Rep. Geraldine Ferraro as his choice for Vice President. Of course, the initial burst of excitement for Ferraro dissipated quickly as she found herself mired in family problems, with Mondale losing in a landslide. While Palin's selection and her running mate may take a similar route, the race is still far from over. But no matter what, my question is, what route will you take?

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Download a free copy of Rich's essay Make Hope Real

"The Democrats still don't know how to go negative. Until they do, they will lose." That's how a CNN commentator ended Monday night's coverage of the Democratic Convention. Is he right? What does it mean for someone to offer hope -- and strongly defend it -- when public life and politics is marked by acrimony and negativity, and shaped by pundits who unrelentingly dispatch such nonsense? Here's how.

Any individual seeking to promote authentic hope and change in today's society must be clear about two things: keep focused on what truly matters and be certain of your desire to win. Your pursuit to make a difference in the world cannot simply be about "fighting the good fight." Those of us who toil in the vineyards of hope and change should want to harvest the fruits of our labor, simply put to improve people's lives; strengthen conditions in society for change; and make good on our urge to do good.

But we all know that the purveyors of negativity will not relent. They will bait you, call you names, and push half-truths. They will decry any form of nuance as weakness. We know their ways, and you must not fall victim to them. Do not take the bait. Do not get lost in their maze of mischief.

Stay true to your aspirations, and train your eye on victory. This is something I wrote about some months ago. My advice is similar today, only stripped down, more urgent, and perhaps more relevant given the chatterboxes, consultants, and critics in their empty suits who stand vulture-like awaiting the demise of hope.

Moving forward, here are key points to keep in mind:

1. Be clear on the difference between authentic hope and false hope -- I say this because this distinction must guide and propel everything you say and do. The moment you slip into a rendition of false hope is the moment you lose credibility. This requires enormous discipline on your part; you will have to play by stricter rules than those who assail you. It will be easy to take cheap shots, produce half-baked ads, and blur the lines between false and authentic hope. Don't do it.
 
2. Demonstrate hope, don't simply talk about it -- I've said this numerous times before: people gain hope from the sense of possibility which emerges from the potential of a new path. This path must be rooted in a vision of what can be versus what is; and it is made real by offering succinct proposals that make it concrete. Talking about "hope" alone will not motivate people.

3. Be tough as nails -- anyone who has brought about authentic hope has had to be tough-minded, thick-skinned, and a fighter. Ex: the prophets, Martin Luther King, Jr., neighborhood folks who made a difference. None of these people brooked any lip from others. They hit back, hit hard, and hit consistently. This is your task. Just be clear that in doing so you must stay true to points #1 and 2 above.

4. Negativity is a deathtrap -- yes, I know it has worked in the past for many individuals seeking to win, whether they were candidates seeking election or community leaders making a point. In fact, it very well might work again today. But if you genuinely believe in the call to pursue authentic hope, then you must not bite the apple. It is rotten to its core. Tactics and strategies rooted in negativity will only lead to your demise. People support you because of where you have planted your feet; stay there.

5. Stay away from Kum-ba-yah -- let's be honest, there's a danger in all this hope and change stuff. It's easy to slip into touchy-feely language that makes it sound like we're all headed for summer camp, or some God-awful office retreat. If you want to pursue hope, then you must be careful about gratuitous Hallmark card moments. Keep it real.

I've written a little piece called Make Hope Real that might come in handy; if you've already read it, pass it along to others who want to pursue hope and change. What's clear is that we can't do any of this work alone; it's also true that if you and I don't stand up, then who will? There's too much at stake. Let's win.

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Click here to order a free copy of Make Hope Real

Last night my wife handed me a Sunday New York Times article on Jon Stewart -- Is this the Most Trusted Man in America? -- telling me that I had to read it. She was right. You should, too. During a time of record-breaking Olympics, a decidedly mixed presidential race, and general social anxiety, Jon Stewart's success on "The Daily Show" holds some key insights for those of us who want to make good on our urge to do good.
 
For me, there are at least three components to Stewart's success:

Now, think about Stewart in relationship to the current presidential race, which increasingly seems to be teetering on the brink of another battle over false realities and empty hope. Recent campaign ads are riddled with half-truths, negativity, and silly efforts to misdirect conversation away from people's genuine concerns. I suppose the upcoming party conventions will be relatively better -- could they be any worse -- but how long that improvement will last before the campaigns again descend into a debate over false realities is anyone's guess. All this from two candidates many of us expected would produce a genuine debate and sense of possibility about our future.

Juxtapose these candidates to another group of high-profile individuals, the current U.S. Olympic men's basketball team: Just four years ago, this team was essentially booed off the international stage, as individuals who had ignored or rejected any notion of what it means to act as a team, play defense, and wear the red, white, and blue. They lived in the false realities of self-centeredness, seeming to celebrate the ugliness of professional basketball here at home. But this year, U.S. co-captain Lebron James, who played on that 2004 team, came together with new teammates and punctured the 2004 reality. If nothing else, they have proven that it is possible take a different path -- if the desire is there. Listen to these guys being interviewed, watch them play, and it's so clear that this is a stand-up group, proud to wear the USA uniform, humble in their pronouncements.

So what does all this mean for you and me? After all, there's only one Jon Stewart and Lebron James. None of us have their platforms, megaphone, or talent. What can we do? Here are some takeaways for you to consider:

• You can puncture false or negative realities when you decide to step forward and genuinely attempt to portray life as it really is. Indeed, it is possible to break through the noise. For you, this breakthrough may come in a particular meeting, or in how you write a brochure, or produce a new Web site; it may come in how you structure a new initiative or program, or in the ways in which you talk about the challenges you seek to take on. But be clear, it is these breakthroughs in how we depict reality that people are yearning for today.
  
  
• In your attempts to puncture false reality and shine a light on real issues, you must not disingenuously straddle the fence. Simply going through the motions will not do; nor will rooting your work in reality only when it is easy or convenient. To do is to become irrelevant. People eventually will turn away. Only look at people's reaction to mainstream news, the current dynamics of the presidential race, or local organizations that give lip service to reality and its real-life implications. People's "BS-meter" is very sensitive; they know when they're being manipulated and toyed with.
  
  
• You must creatively make use of different ways to engage people in discussions about reality and its implications. Simply being "serious" all the time, or projecting "doom and gloom" won't cut it. You will need to engage people based on a clear understanding of your own talents to engage others and the level of credibility you hold with people. So, the U.S. basketball team has gone the route of using honor, humility, and hard work; their efforts are a reflection of keen earnestness and an understated posture. Jon Stewart mixes in humor, satire, and other techniques. In today's world of disbelief, irony, and dissonance, how will you productively engage people and help to meet their deep yearning for authentic hope?

So, the bottom line is this: we face a choice today, which Jon Stewart, the presidential candidates, and the U.S. basketball team only serve to underscore. It is a choice that existed long before they came along, and it will persist in our lives no matter what they do. Will we step forward to do what is necessary to puncture false realities and engage people in real ways; or, will we toy around at the edges, boasting of a new direction, only to stay within the boundaries of the same old game? The second option is safe; but only the first one allows us to make good on our urge to do good.

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. This reflection comes from Jean Feraca, Host of "Here on Earth."

Ever since I came back from the Summit I've been living in state of grace. It's a little like being born-again.

Imagine having forgotten who you are, what your real name is, why you were sent to earth in the first place, and then being re-awakened. That's what it was like for me. Before I left for the Summit, I had no idea how far I had strayed from my original purpose in creating Here on Earth: Radio Without Borders. Simply stated, it was to show who we are at our best, we humans, and how much we have in common. It was to bring the world a little closer together and to show, over and over again, in as many different ways as possible, that there is only one race on earth, the one we call Human. The best way to do that, of course, is by telling stories, and what better place to tell them than on the radio where "stories make brothers and sisters of us all," as my friend Harold Scheub, who teaches The African Storyteller, has so often stated.

But somewhere along the way, I forgot all that. I began to think that telling stories wasn't important enough. I began to try to be more like other talk show hosts. It was Rich who brought me back to my authentic self.  "When I tell other people about you," he said, "I don't tell them you're a journalist. I tell them you're a poet."  Ah, yes. And then he reminded us that one story connects to another story, and that's how, in the aggregate, altogether we create The Moving Mosaic.   

Jean Feraca, Host of Here on Earth: Radio Without Borders

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. This reflection comes from Wendy Willis of the Policy Consensus Initiative.

I've often asked friends and colleagues toiling in the civic engagement trenches if there is such a thing as "social capital poisoning."  While many of our fellow citizens are struggling to find meaningful ways to participate in public life, those of us who have turned our passion for engagement  into a vocation can find ourselves meeting and talking and collaborating ourselves straight into exhaustion.  Sometimes, we just want to be left alone. 

It was in that state that I showed up at Skamania Lodge two Fridays ago -- depleted and unenthusiastic about more meetings -- even optimistic ones.  Everything in me wanted to hide out.  But, there I was -- nametag in hand -- so I put on my best introvert armor and headed down to the first set of discussions, determined to protect my zone of privacy.  What happened in that first discussion -- and throughout the weekend  -- was not what I anticipated nor was it what I was prepared to resist.  Yes, the discussions were optimistic and spirited and engaging, and I had to be grateful for being in the company of such creativity and hope.  But, the conversations and the facilitators that led them also asked us to do something more than just bubble over with ideas  -- they asked us to reflect deeply and quietly and to connect our inner lives with the outer realities of the work.  They asked us to think about  -- and then speak from  -- our core values and fondest dreams, and even to admit our darkest fears.

That marriage of reflection and conversation had obvious and immediate consequences -- deeper insights, more honest connections, grittier truths.  But it was also -- for me -- both regenerative and humbling.  It was restorative in that there was space for quiet, even in the face of such palpable creativity and enthusiasm.  But, it also put me right straight in my place.   I had been prepared to let myself off the hook -- to willfully withdraw even in the face of such generosity and warmth.   I was brought face-to-face with my own stinginess and tendency to withhold.  But, the better angels -- and the munificence of the gathering -- won out, and I was left filled with gratitude and not with regret.

Wendy Willis,Director of Business Development and Engagement, Policy Consensus Initiative

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.

This post was written by Steven A. Smith for his blog "News is a Conversation.  The editor of the Spokesman-Review (Spokane), Steven has worked with the Harwood Institute for more than a decade.  What follows is his post reflecting on the experience of attending his first Harwood Public Innovators Summit:

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I just returned home from the three-day innovators summit in Stevenson, WA.

I need some time to synthesize what I learned. Suffice it to say for now the innovations most helpful to newspapers probably won't come from our own industry. This conference was a chance to spend time with innovators in a variety of business and non-profit roles. The ideas I will steal from them will help push our own transformational change, I hope.

But today's end-of-conference discussion did have an epiphinous moment worth sharing.

We were discussing the writings of noted social activist Dorothy Day.

This line jumped off the page for me.

"No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There's too much work to do."

Words a weary editor, all weary editors and newspaper people, need to take to heart.

Steven A. Smith, Editor, Spokesman-Review

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.

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These days, when I ask a friend or colleague how they're doing, I almost always get the same one-word response: "Busy."

I don't just interpret this as a reflection of the pace by which we live our lives; in fact, most of the people I know are busy doing things that either matter deeply to them or to people who depend on them. So it's not necessarily the pace that's the problem; it's the way the word choice reveals what we choose to illuminate and, by extension, value in ourselves and the world around us.

It's almost as if the word "busy" has become a short-hand way to describe what it feels like to live in modern society. Is this an accurate description? Is there a difference between feeling busy and feeling highly engaged? If so, what does the predominance of the one word over the other say about our states of mind?

These questions, for me, illuminate why the Harwood Summit is so valuable. Instead of crafting a busy agenda, Rich and his staff provide a precious opportunity for people to feel engaged. Together, we pause, exhale, reflect on who we are, what we do, and why it matters, and make connections with other committed professionals from a range of professional sectors.

~Sam Chaltain, Executive Director, Five Freedoms Project

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. This post comes from Farhana Huq, Founder and CEO of C.E.O Women.

I started volunteering with citizen sector organizations when I was 14.  My sense of the sector was myopic in that I was on the front lines most of the time, focused primarily on direct service. 

When I founded C.E.O. Women -- an organization dedicated to helping low-income immigrant and refugee women to become entrepreneurs -- I did so with the goal of helping women.  However, what has evolved for me, over time, is a commitment to addressing the systemic barriers faced by these women. I've come to believe that this requires a very different mindset and tool set. It also requires dialogue.  My thinking is now less about the direct service and more geared towards creating solutions and shifts that will inevitably solve the problems these women face over time. 

Many of the key players in our sector run their organizations from a purely competitive lens.  What was valuable to me about attending the Public Innovators Summit was the focus of discussions around this phenomenon of organization building.  Many of us expressed our skepticism around measuring success based on the old tropes of "We're the biggest.  We're the best organization.  We're the oldest in the field." 

The dialogue with other civic leaders at the Summit confirmed, for me, that the change we all want to see requires a deep sense of humility and a collaborative spirit.  Sometimes I think people forget what they are in the business of doing.  Are they in the business of doing business, or are they in the business of social change?  Regrouping and refocusing ones efforts around their work is critical to keeping you focused and understanding how to achieve change. 

Farhana Huq: Founder and CEO, C.E.O Women

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

The Starbucks juggernaut has flipped its lid in recent months, experiencing a downturn most never expected. Over the years, Starbucks had emerged as a new social icon, a reflection of a brilliant business strategy rooted in a keen knowledge of people's yearnings for connection. But somehow Starbucks got burned when it tried to occupy too much space. Any of us can fall into this trap.

The story is a familiar one: a great idea, terrific execution, rising demand, and then expansion, expansion, expansion! Starbucks coffee can now be seen virtually everywhere. Not only did stores pop up on nearly every corner, they embedded their beans and brand in grocery stores, hotels, even in the air.

Originally, Starbucks was about intimate coffee houses where people could meet, chat, read ... in essence, be in public. Company leaders often talked about carving out "third spaces" in communities -- neither yours nor mine, but "ours." But things started to unravel, and on Valentine's Day 2007, Chairman Howard Shultz sent out a memo entitled, "The Commoditization of the Starbucks Experience." Starbucks had morphed from being an experience to selling a cup of coffee.

To get back to basics, the company plans to shutter 5% of their stores nationwide, with as many as 12,000 much-heralded workers losing their jobs. Ouch!

What happened to "The Starbucks Experience?" This raises a key question I often ask people in their work: What space do you want to occupy? Earlier Starbucks enjoyed clarity on this question, but eventually their success and scale led them to believe they could be ubiquitous. That is, they could occupy virtually any and all spaces available.

My concern is not with their business strategy -- spreadsheets, numbers, coffee beans, and other related matters. That's really not my business.  

Rather, my focus is on how an organization (whether a for-profit or non-profit) positions itself in public life, how it thinks about the very space it chooses to occupy. The Starbucks phenomenon has many of the same markings I see with non-profit groups that get caught up in their own success, when they wish to occupy any and all spaces.  For instance:

• A successful local organization that confuses the fact that people value its role in their lives, with the belief that the organization should take a higher profile in the community. When does the promise of a broader profile take your eye off the real target?


• A national organization that decides to scale up in dozens upon dozens of communities, but loses sight of what it means to create the very conditions in communities that brought about its initial success. When does the lure of expansion undermine our true objectives?


• A civic engagement effort that started with a clear focus, now believes it should go into every nook and cranny of a community to listen to people, even tackle a whole host of issues. Will the numbers add up to anything meaningful?  

I said earlier, the problem I see here is not first and foremost about a group's business or strategic plan. Starbucks, like many organizations, lost its soul, becoming more about coffee than the "experience." For nonprofits, the lure of occupying more and more space can cloud the realities of who you are and what you are truly trying to achieve. It can diminish the opportunity for producing real change, even if in smaller steps. It can blur one's thinking about what sits at the essence of the work you actually do. At issue is, "Are you clear on the space you want to occupy?"

My own hope is that good programs and initiatives will expand and even go to scale. But I also know that those that do must be clear on the space they should occupy. Otherwise, it is too easy to get burned.

It's good to wake up and smell the coffee.

This past week, Randy Pausch, the man who made famous "The Last Lecture" passed away after battling pancreatic cancer. The lecture, intended for his children, moved millions of people -- but why? On the surface, many of his comments were cliche. But he was on to something real, something we all wrestle with, and these are the same reasons why my own work is moving more and more in the direction of answering this question: "How can you make good on your urge to do good?"

Upon learning of his cancer, Dr.  Pausch, a professor at Carnegie Mellon University, decided to give what the Pittsburgh-based school calls the "last lecture." The topic: how to live life. Millions of people have now watched the lecture on YouTube, and tens of thousands have bought his book. Most major news outlets covered his death. Pausch offered simple insights into life, including these highlighted in a USA Today article:

Never underestimate the importance of having fun. I'm dying and I'm having fun. And I'm going to keep having fun every day because there's no other way to play it.

Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted.

No one is pure evil. Find the best in everybody. Wait long enough and people will surprise and impress you.

Brick walls are there for a reason. They are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are these to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. The brick walls are there to stop people who don't want it badly enough.

It is not about achieving your dreams but living your life. If you lead your life the right way, the karma will take care of itself. The dreams will come to you

What's striking about his comments is their utter simplicity and directness. They give people a sense of grounding in  a highly complex, fast-paced, and often convoluted society. His comments are reminders about things what we already know, but often forget. They ask us to act on what we know is the right thing to do.

My own work over the years has focused on how people can create real change and authentic hope in communities.  We've long focused on such questions as, why do some communities move forward and others don't? Or, what does it take to authentically engage people in an era of cynicism and retreat? Or, how can you create the conditions for change in a community; what does it really take to generate an environment in which change can emerge?

Over time I have come to believe that there is a second part to this work, a portion that is as important and vital as the types of strategic concerns I just mentioned. This part addresses each of us as individuals, and seeks to illuminate and answer the question: "How can we make good on our urge to do good?"

To answer this question requires each of us to articulate and examine our own aspirations to make a difference in people's lives. We must gain a genuine understanding of our aspirations, and learn how to stay true to our best instincts and hunches. This is more of a practice than a set of techniques or process. A way of seeing and being rather than a set of instructions.

Cliche though it may be, we are all on a journey, a journey to make good on our urge to do good. As on any journey there are forces and factors that push you off your path for change, disrupt your efforts, and draw your attention away from what is truly important.

The more I do this work, the more I see that what people want most of all are touchstones that ground them when their aspirations and values are questioned, undermined, clouded, tested, even devalued. That's why in the coming months we'll be unveiling new ways for public innovators, leaders, change agents, social entrepreneurs, and civic initiators -- call them what you will -- to discover and pursue their own paths for change while staying true to their aspirations.

What we say and do in life matters. That's the message from Professor Randy Pausch in "The Last Lecture." That's the inherent message in all of our efforts. Stay tuned.

Most of us never intend to turn someone else into the "other," but the exigencies of life have a way of wringing out individual dignity from our work. We can find ourselves running so fast to reach the finish line that we lose sight of why even started to run. We use certain words and phrases as short-hand, only to lose their meaning. We go all out to win vital arguments, only to create needless divisions that fail to reflect people's everyday experiences. How in your own efforts to create change are you making room for individual dignity?

In my own memory, it was around the time of Ronald Reagan that our nation took a sharp detour deep into the land of celebrating the power of the individual and shoving individual dignity to the side. Of course, the "individual" has always played a central role in American history and myth, but since Reagan we have increasingly viewed the individual as the almighty consumer, the all-knowing political force, the free-agent without commitments, the sovereign entity.

In our celebration of the individual, the reference point is me, myself and I -- even if it means turning away from others, or talking about people in ways that keep them at arms' length.

• Thus we talk about "choice" in education, or other reforms, but often do not speak in terms of children and their vulnerabilities and feelings and real needs. The child gets lost in all the political speak and banter, the numbers and charts, the official statements and programs. And yet, we all know what it means to be a kid.

• We talk about long-term health care and trot out hurting people as props in our unfolding public drama, but somehow we do not talk about what a care-giver truly goes through and the mundane supports that they need to make it day-to-day. And yet, it's not too hard to envision yourself in this kind of situation.
  

• Or, we talk about patriotism, as I did on Wisconsin Public Radio yesterday, as if its meaning resides within the confines of an ideological framework, a so-called battle between the right and left. And yet, we fail to see that each of us in everyday life is in search of ways to express our love of country, engage with one another, and get on with the unfinished work before us.

A fellow guest on the public radio program yesterday was Air Force Reserve Major David Frakt who in June made the closing argument in a high-profile Guantanamo Bay case. In reading over his closing argument I was especially moved by these words:

No one is "undeserving" of humane treatment. It is an unmistakable lesson of history that when one group of people starts to see another group of people as "other" or as "different," or an "undeserving" as "inferior," ill-treatment inevitably follows.

"Ill-treatment" can be defined in many ways. The Major was referring to torture. But while torture is an extreme example, everyday there are abridgments of individual dignity. Just this morning I heard a radio ad for listeners to donate funds to help "needy people." Just what would it mean to be part of the "needy people?" Must you show an identification card at the movies, wear only certain brands of clothing, attach a scarlet letter to your arm. How is it that we see other people's lives?

I can't imagine that most people intentionally squeeze out room for individual dignity. But I would say that we have lost a certain consciousness for it. If we talk about individual dignity, we do so only for a moment, before returning to business as usual. Or maybe we see something on television that touches on human indignity and makes us cry, only we quickly dry our eyes and "pull ourselves together." The problem we face is hidden in plain view. Will we see it? What will we do?

My point isn't that we should stop fighting for important causes. We must keep going. But under what conditions, I ask? We can achieve our goals but fail to make a difference in people's lives. We can have a great public or social mission but not work truly in the spirit of people. We can be standing right next to someone, and still not see or hear them.

What flame are you chasing, and through the years what have you learned about yourself and what you need to do to make a difference?  Maybe this is too simple a question to pose, but more and more I find people wrestling to figure out the right answer. This question is at the heart of the new book, Chasing the Flame: Sergio de Vieira De Mello and the Fight to Save the World, by Samantha Power, which I highly recommend to you.

You may be wondering why I am suggesting a book on the United Nations and one of its star officials; what can this story teach us? Bottom line: Sergio Vieira De Mello came face-to-face with many issues that those of us involved in change must ultimately address.

Vieira De Mello led critical UN missions at major flashpoints in recent history, including in Iraq, Bosnia, Lebanon, Cambodia, Rwanda, Kosovo, and East Timor -- each with its own thorny set of issues involving peacekeeping, humanitarian aid, and human rights. He was tragically killed in Baghdad in 2003, at age 55.

A Brazilian who earned a doctorate in philosophy from the Sorbonne, he was an idealist of sorts, like many of us. Over the years, his views on human nature and idealism came into clearer focus. Power reflects on Vieira De Mello's journey throughout the book. Here are four points I want to highlight, hopefully as a way for you to think about your own journey.

Chasing the Flame offers insights into the life and thoughts of someone who faced up to difficult challenges, and seldom had the luxury to stand on the sidelines. He came to these fights with certain principles, and he had to examine their actual meaning as they were repeatedly tested in daily life, and then determine what was most valuable to him.

In many respects, this is the path for change each of us is on.

We often see in sports what we wish could be true in everyday life. This weekend's epic Wimbledon men's final was the best example I've seen in years, when Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal exhibited in the heat of battle a sense of grace that each us can only hope to embrace. There are lessons here for each of us and for public life.

Much has been written about the superior play in the Wimbledon final, but for me the most magical moment came when play ended. As Federer and Nadal approached the net for the customary handshake and perfunctory passing comments, something remarkable happened. The two men stood there grasping the other, their deep sense of affection for each other on clear display for all to see. In their on-court, post-match interviews, both spoke more about his opponent than about himself; each sung the praise of the other; neither sulked nor gloated.

Put yourself in their shoes: is this what we expect of them or ourselves?

Their display of grace went far beyond what anyone at NBC Sports or even the folks at Disney could have scripted. For in that moment when the match ends, with millions of people watching, glee or sadness takes over and drives one's behavior and spirit. We have all witnessed the miserable or dejected player at the end of a competition. One only needs to visit the nearest Little League field to know what I mean. What is remarkable is that these two individuals found a different path to take.

Each of us encounters situations daily when we face a choice about whether to usher in a sense of grace. Think about your own work situations, your own life, and consider these questions:
I have long believed that we must fight, and fight hard, to bring about the change we want in public life -- for instance, to ensure that all kids can get a good public school education. But what choices do we make as we take on that fight? What do each of us ultimately say and do?

My hope is that we engage with a sense of grace -- for our own sake, and for the health of public life.

Maybe it's no accident that Senators Obama and McCain are knee-deep in a war of words over the meaning of patriotism as July 4th approaches. But when our two presidential candidates spend their days in a war of words over patriotism, the queasiness from my post 9/11 patriotism hangover comes racing back. Unfortunately, the after-taste is strong and the symptoms are all-too-familiar.

The recent war of words began in earnest when retired Army General Wesley K. Clark went after McCain on Sunday's "Face the Nation". "I don't think getting in a fighter plane and getting shot down is a qualification to become president," he said. Of course, the McCain camp fired back and even questioned Obama's rebuke of Clark.

Then on Monday Obama gave a defining speech on "patriotism" at the Truman Memorial Building in Independence, MO. The speech had been planned before the war of words, all part of a week-long effort on patriotism to shore up his standing among Americans.

The week before TIME magazine put the "meaning of patriotism" on its front cover, saying that "what we need going forward is a third-way patriotism, a new patriotism that blends the faith of our fathers with, as Lincoln said, the unfinished work remaining before us." The article suggested that both McCain and Obama are caught in a polarized debate and need to discover this so-called "third way."

Finding any way forward on patriotism is tough these days. After 9/11, we Americans felt deeply about our country. Many of us flew flags outside our homes (as did I), placed decals on our cars, and wore lapel pins. It wasn't that these expressions weren't real, but after time they had the quality of feeling shallow. Many of us wondered what we should do next. With whom were we to engage in this spirit of patriotism? Was going shopping enough, as the president suggested?

In Hope Unraveled, Americans told me that they could hear the window of opportunity to do something positive in the country slam shut, saying that we had lost the chance to tap into the sense of patriotism that so many people had expressed post 9/11. Today, I would argue an uneasy feeling exists among many Americans: how do we balance wanting to express heart-felt beliefs about love of nation, while wondering if our expressions are hollow or simplistic.

But the more McCain and Obama fight, the more our own sense of patriotism gets pushed aside, minimized, even trivialized. And yet, in 2008, I wonder how each of us would define the meaning of patriotism and its place in our daily lives? This is what I wish the candidates would find the courage to engage us on.

Thus in the coming days I want the two candidates to address us, not simply bark at each other. This current debate is unfolding as if we're all passive bystanders simply looking on. But nothing could be farther from the truth.

July 4th is about us -- we the people, and this our beloved nation. The two candidates should engage us in a conversation about the meaning of patriotism post 9/11. I want them to raise the stakes by asking us to think about and act on a definition of patriotism that speaks to our aspirations here and now. I want them to challenge us to step forward. I want them to help us gain clarity on the essence of patriotism in this new, changing world of ours.

This is an opportunity for each of the candidates to turn from themselves and toward us. And it is an opportunity for each of us to turn toward one another. Now is our time.

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