Those of us in the US are probably used to hearing people go on and on about our high status in rankings of desirability. And in some ways, we are. (I am a US citizen and a lifelong resident, so in this post, I’m going to use “we” and “our” when referring to Americans.)
We are super-cosmopolitan, able to create cities where hundreds of different ethnic, racial, and religious groups not only live and work together but enjoy each other’s food, music, etc.
We introduced modern democracy to the world–a huge improvement over the divine right of kings
We have enormous diversity in geography, agriculture, weather conditions…whatever you want, you can find it somewhere in the US
US technology leadership sparked enormous progress in fields as diverse as computing, clean energy, and space exploration
BUT on a lot of other metrics, we fall alarmingly short. Consider, for instance:
Quality of life: The US is number 15. Not horrible, but we could certainly do better!
Robustness of our democracy: Sadly, once the shinning light to all nations, the US dropped from full to flawed democracy in 2016, and hasn’t recovered. Appallingly, we are rated #25.
I could go on, but you get the idea. In metric after metric, the US was once the leader and now lags.
Lakey sees the increasing polarization of modern US society as a forge: a way of generating the heat necessary to create lasting social change (toward freedom and equality or toward authoritarianism—“the forge doesn’t care”).
This is not a new trend. The Scandinavian countries had their huge social revolution of the 1930s in times of great polarization (something he chronicled in his earlier book, Viking Economics). The trick is to harness that energy and channel it toward gaining mass support. He walks his talk, too; in the summer and fall of 2020, he led or co-led numerous workshops on what to do if the Trumpists tried to seize power after losing the election, training thousands of people.
He charges us to express our best concepts—not just what’s wrong with the system but the vision to make it better—in ways that feel like common sense to working-class people who want the system to work for them, too. After all, most of us actually do want a system that promotes equal access, a fair economy, and real democracy. We have to show them that our vision “has a spot for you,” even if that “you” finds the movement’s tactics disruptive and uncomfortable.
But he says progressives have largely lost that vision since the 1970s; we need to get it back. If we can get the diverse movements working together to confront their common opponents, we foster an intersectional “movement of movements” capable of creating real change—as the Scandinavians did then, with farmers, unionists, and students joining together to drive the moneyed elite from power. He warns us that polarization will get worse, because economic inequality is built so strongly into the culture. He says that we should consider organizing campaigns as “training for [nonviolent] combat.”
And we should expect those campaigns to take a while. Campaigns are well-planned (but adaptable) and sustained over time. It might take years, but you can win. One-offs (like the Women’s March at Trump’s inauguration) don’t typically accomplish change on their own. Traffic disruptions don’t make change; they just piss potential allies off. Disrupting banking operations is much more strategic because the bank is the perpetrator of the evil. How is the specific goal of the campaign advanced by this action? If it doesn’t advance the cause, don’t do it. A campaign he was involved with moved $5 million into credit unions and cooperative enterprises in one campaign that started in a living room and grew to encompass 13 states.
Oppression is only one lens we can look at things through—there are many others (he didn’t elaborate). The elite seeks to divide us (by color, gender, values, etc.)—but canny organizers look for the cracks in those divisions, and expand them. And stays optimistic, not getting stuck in “can’t be done” but figuring out how to do it.
Campaigns often start small. We can build our skills when the stakes are lower and make our mistakes then. Later, as the big challenges arise, we know how to handle them. You can lose a lot of battles and still win the campaign (eventually). And any tactic will be greeted with “this will never work” skepticism. But “Anyone who is arguing for impossibility” should remember the Mississippi Summer volunteers. When news got out of the abduction of Goodman, Schwerner, and Cheney, Lakey (a trainer of volunteers for trhat movement) expected most of the next volunteer wave to abandon their commitments—but nearly all of them stayed, mentored by Black SNCC activists who had been living with the overt racism for decades.
The best-known antidote to terror is social solidarity. Get close to people. Organize campaigns not just with those who share your goals but those who are “willing to be human with you.” Make your peace with the personal risk, face it head-on. We risk by driving on the highway, we risk by NOT meaningfully addressing climate change. Accepting the possibility that you might die in service of the common good is liberating (and it’s not the worst way to die).
SNCC survived in the Deep South without guns; they would not have survived with them. Erica Chenoweth shows us that nonviolent movements have twice the success rate of violent ones.
If you want innovation, conflict helps to get you there. Yet, conflict resolution is a crucial skill, and it’s expanded enormously in recent decadesWe need those tools and people who will jump into the fray (to use them). But if our tools are too highly structured, you need to add interventions in informal settings.
Lakey expects surveillance and isn’t worried about it: “I think it’s a wonderful thing. We take that as pride: we are so important that they put staff time and energy into knowing what we’re up to—so we’re making a difference. Gandhi told India, if you gave up fear of them, the British would be gone. If people spread fears about Trump, invoice him for the hours because you’re doing his work.”
I love the idea of acting locally and have done it (and written and spoken about it) for decades. My biggest success in 50 years as an activist was a local campaign that saved a threatened mountain. Your chances of winning are often higher, it’s easy to reach those most affected, and you can parley your success into much greater influence on the future direction of your community. And yes, it can be empowering.
BUT…we also have to do the long, hard work on the big-picture stuff. It took 100 years of hard organizing to end legalized slavery for non-criminals in the US (and by the way, the exemption for convicted criminals has been used shamefully in too many instances). It took decades to get national civil rights legislation, the right of women and people of color to vote, the right of same-sex couples to marry…pretty much anything worth fighting for. And sometimes, even large-scale victories happen surprisingly quickly. As an example, the safe energy movement took only five or six years to make nuclear power unbuildable.
And those local victories can inspire the national and international work–which often gets done most effectively at the local level, by existing organizations and coalitions.
I love this post from the Changemaker Institute, How to Change The World By Meeting People Where They Care. I love it because it approaches social change through a marketing lens. It starts by revisiting the famous Loving v. Virginia Supreme Court Case of 1967, which struck down longstanding bans on marrying across the color line. Pointing out how Richard and Mildred Loving got people to care, the post goes on to ask how to get people to care about what you’re doing–and answers with a business-oriented focus on outcomes of your social change action, which you arrive at through these questions (quoting directly from the post):
What does it take to get an investor to believe in your business and invest in your mission?
What does it take to get customers to believe in your product or service and invest in it?
What does it take to get your employees to believe in your company’s mission and invest time and energy in supporting it?
What does it take to get people to support your vision for a better world? [end of quote]
Shel’s inspirational posters describing his “sweet spot” institutional mission and his 2020 and 2021 sets of three words to inspire his year
To take it a step further: I see getting out of the silo, rubbing shoulders with people who are not like you and examining different ideas from different industries or different sectors of the same industry as crucial is testing your own ideas, sharpening them enough to really get inside someone’s head and cause enough discomfort with the status quo to embrace the brighter future you propose. Whether you’re marketing a business or a movement, that’s a pretty important thing to do.
Guest Post by Sam Horn, author of Tongue Fu and many other books.
Does it feel like you’re talking on eggshells these days? You’re not alone. A report from McKinsey says, “Rudeness is on the rise and incivility is getting worse.”
As one woman said, “It feels like I can’t say anything right. It seems everyone’s on edge. They take offense at the least little thing. What can we do when everyone’s stressed out?”
She has a point, doesn’t she?
The last year and a half has been tough.
People have lost loved ones and jobs. Controversies around masks and vaccinations have put people at odds. Remote work and home-schooling have frayed nerves and tempers.
So, what can we do? We can Tongue Fu!
Tongue Fu! (a trademarked communication – conflict prevention/resolution process) teaches what to say – and not say – in sensitive, stressful situations you face every day.
It’s ironic. We’re taught math, science and history in school, we’re not taught how to deal with difficult people without becoming one ourselves.
And in these tough times, it’s more important than ever to know how to proactively handle complaints, disagreements, and unhappy, upset people.
Fortunately, that’s what Tongue Fu! teaches.
Here are a few challenges you may face at work, at home, online and in public – with tips on how to respond in the moment instead of thinking of the perfect response on the way home.
4 Tongue Fu! Tips for What to Say/Do When Things Go Wrong
Complaints When people complain, don’t explain. Explanations come across as excuses. They make people angrier because they feel you’re not being accountable. For example, if a host is upset because you’re late for a meeting, don’t explain why, just take the AAA Train:
Agree: “You’re right, Bob, our meeting was supposed to start at 9 am.
Apologize: And I’m sorry I’m late.
Act: AND I’ve got those stats you had requested. Would you like to hear them?”
When you take the AAA Train – Agree, Apologize and Act – instead of belaboring why things went wrong, you advance the conversation instead of anchoring it in an argument.
2. Negative accusation.
Whatever you do, don’t defend or deny untrue accusations. If someone says “You are so emotional!” and you say, “I am not emotional!” now you are! Instead, put the ball back in their court by asking, “What do you mean?” That questions motivates people to reveal the real issue and you can address that instead of reacting to their attack.
Imagine says, “You don’t care about your customers.” Reacting with, “We do care about our customers.” makes them wrong. Instead ask, “Why do you say that?” The client may say “I ordered supplies two weeks ago and still haven’t received them.” Now you know what’s really bothering them and you can fix their problem instead of debating their accusation.
3. Arguments.
If people are upset and you try to talk over them, what will happen? They’ll talk louder. The voice of reason will get drowned out in the commotion.
Instead, make a T with your hands (like a referee would) to cause a pause. Then say these magic words, “Let’s not do this. We could go back and forth for the rest of the afternoon about what should have been done, and it won’t undo what happened. Instead, let’s put a system in place to prevent this from happening again.”
You can also put your hand up like a traffic cop to do a pattern interrupt. Say, “Blaming each other won’t help. Instead, let’s figure out who will be in charge of this in the future so we can trust it will be handled promptly.”
As John F. Kennedy said, “Our goal is not to fix blame for the past, it’s to fix the course for the future.” If people start blaming, remind them, “We’re here to find solutions, not fault.”
4. Have to give bad news.
It’s easy to get defensive if your have to give bad news and say “It’s not my fault,” however that makes people feel you’re brushing them off.
A more empathetic response is to say “I can only imagine” as in ‘I can only imagine how disappointing this is.”
Then turn, “There’s nothing I can do” into “There’s something I can suggest. We have set up a 24 hour job-line with…”
In the real world, things go wrong. And sometimes we can’t fix them. We can at least let people know we care and we’re doing the best we can to help out.
Don Draper said, “If you don’t like what’s being said, change the conversation.”
We can change conversations and outcomes for good by using Tongue Fu! approaches.
Because when we treat people with respect, they’re more likely to treat us with respect.
And that’s a win for everyone.
This post originally appeared in Sam Horn’s newsletter and LinkedIn. Reprinted with permission. Sam’s 3 TEDx talks and 9 books have been featured in NY Times, on NPR, and taught to Intel, Cisco, Boeing, Capital One, NASA, Fidelity and Oracle. Want support completing your creative projects? Check out Sam’s Stop Wishing – Start Writing Community.
It is very unfortunate that the original developer didn’t get any guarantees that a buyer would maintain the fossil-free commitment written into the sale documents. Nonetheless, I think a creative and skilled attorney could make a number of different legal arguments that could force the developer to honor the agreement. Could the Environmental Defense Fund? perhaps take this on? It would be a great precedent to say that a community developed specifically as an eco-community could not then be put at the mercy of eco-hostile development.
As a non-lawyer, all I can do is speculate about the arguments a lawyer might use to block the conversion of the acquired parcels to fossil fuels (I have no idea if any of these would hold up in court and I am not presenting this as legal advice). Arguments could be made about such harms as
Introducing new health risks (especially to children)
Negative progress on climate that goes against International, US,Colorado, and neighborhood climate goals
Adverse possession (a doctrine that gives rights to squatters in certain circumstances)
The deliberate destruction of a cohesive intentional community
And of course, about consumers’ rights: this could clearly be seen as bait-and-switch: buying into a community with a stated purpose, and having that purpose violated, even shredded.
But the courts aren’t the only recourse. I do know something about organizing movements, and these neighbors should be organizing a movement. To list a few among many possibilities, they could be:
Organizing mass protests outside the developer’s office
Saturating the local paper with letters to the editor and op-eds
Enlisting allies in powerful environmental organizations, of which Colorado has no shortage
Protesting at the capital in Denver that their rights are being taken away
Contacting the press ahead of and after all of these events
Physically but nonviolently blocking attempts to connect the pipelines (note: this is illegal civil disobedience and participants might be subject to arrest)
Researching obscure laws that might provide tools that can successfully block the connection
Organizing boycotts and other public shamings of the developer
Plus, I really have to wonder what the developer is thinking. Eco-friendly homes are in high demand, can often sell for more than the price of comparable fossil-powered homes, and prove a skill set that many homeowners want. After all, people moved from other states just to participate in this community. And forcing eco-hostile housing development into an eco-friendly community is a recipe for public relations disaster and a bad, bad reputation.
Why not simply stop, think about the benefits of keeping this community identity, and use it as a marketing tool? That would make so much more sense than risking ongoing hostility, a ruined reputation and possibly much worse.
This is an issue important enough to me that I have a category in this blog called “Talking to the Other Side.” If you click on the tab with that label, you’ll see all my posts on that topic. You’ll also see a whole lot of discourse between liberals/progressives and conservatives over the last many years of my Facebook feed. And yes, I go to as many Braver Angels events as I can.
The owner of the Step Into the Spotlight discussion group, Tsufit, asked what kind of marketing could help Canada go smoke-free by 2035. My answer doesn’t fit into LinkedIn’s comment space, so I’m sharing it here:
Ooooh, what a wonderful project! If I might make some cross-border observations that an actual Canadian might find lacking, I would, first of all, identify the key attributes of not just each province but each region of each province and target different themes and different platforms that will work will for each. I’d remember the wild successes on my side of the border of “Don’t Mess With Texas”–which started as an anti-littering campaign and became an unofficial state slogan and a core part of Texans’ identity–and the “I Love New York” campaign that helped the Big Apple find its way from near-depression in the 1970s to, once again, the happening place that “everyone” wants to be part of–and then the state successfully expanded the campaign to talk about all the other parts of New York State.
In libertarian rural Alberta, it might be about the personal freedom to enjoy clean, smoke-free air and the desire to keep out of the clutches of National Health Service doctors by staying healthy. For Quebec City, ads (in French, of course) that might make Anglophone Canadians choke but appeal to the sense of separate identity, e.g., “Oui, we are a beautiful capital city–but we also want to be the capital of good health and clean air.” In a more rural part of Quebec, such as the Gaspésie, they might tout the health benefits of the rural lifestyle, fresh food, and clean lungs.
In the Inuit areas, it might focus on communitarianism, tribal values, etc. For the Metro Toronto and Vancouver markets, perhaps an appeal to cosmopolitan sophistication. “Thinking of smoking as cool is SO 1950s. We’re too smart for that now.”
This national effort of a series of hyperlocal campaigns would need people on the ground in each area to really figure out the touchpoints for each audience slice. And it would be across many media, from traditional TV and print and radio to Instagram, TikTok, etc.
AND it would include a significant curriculum component starting around 3rd grade, to build the defenses of rising generations against tobacco industry hype, to inoculate students with the knowledge of health, economic, and pollution/carbon consequences, and to foster development of healthy lifestyles and a different set of pleasures.
We hear a lot about being shamed for doing the right thing–yet there’s little mention of the internal shame we might feel when we FAIL to step up and be vulnerable. I have very few regrets in my life, but I feel shame about three incidents where I had the chance to do the right thing and didn’t take it: one was right after we bought our first house and our immediate neighbors invited us over to get acquainted–and made a racist remark about Puerto Ricans. Knowing I was going to have to live next to these people for years, I chose to remain silent and I still feel shame over that. The other was many years earlier, when, as a teenager in high school, I walked by a large man who was addressing a petite young woman. He turned straight to me and asked, “doesn’t she have tiny t–ts?” I knew I didn’t want to encourage him but at 14 or 15, I didn’t yet have the languaging to effectively interrupt that kind of oppression. I didn’t know how to throw some comfort her way without sending him into a potentially violent rage against her. I took the cheap cop-out, “I can’t see. Her arm is in her way.”
The third was even earlier. I think I was 11. My only summer in sleep-away camp. There were six of us in my bunk. Three were bullies, two of us were constantly picked on, and the 6th was our protector. Near the end of that horrible two weeks, the bullies forced me and the other scrawny kid to fight each other. He was even weaker than me. Shamefully, I chose the self-protection of not getting beaten up by the three thugs. I hit him as gently as I could. Our protector (a small-framed boy, but one with enormous self-confidence) walked in near the end of the battle and was disgusted with the me. I lost his respect. He gained even more respect from me. And I don’t think I’ve hit anyone since.
And I was enormously proud decades later when my daughter, then just six years old, interrupted the bullying of the odd-boy in her kindergarten.
The shame of letting others down and not being true to myself I felt in these three incidents is very different than the shame I felt at about age 11 when I experienced a rape by a stranger on the street (yeah, I’m a male #MeToo). I felt horribly unclean and ashamed, but I knew this was out of my control. Still, it was four years before I could bring myself to tell anyone–and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I didn’t discover my bisexuality until I moved 600 miles (1000 km) away from that stairwell.
There are plenty of times when I did speak out. When I did the right thing. When I took some personal risk. But these three failures still hang over me. The most recent was in 1986, yet, all those decades later, I am still ashamed.
Are there times in your life that YOU regret not stepping up?
Open letter to the government of the City of Northampton, Massachusetts
Context: Residents of a tiny one-block street called Warfield Place have been fighting to preserve a line of beautiful cherry trees planted several decades ago. The city (pop. 28,726) has claimed that the street needed to be redone and these trees are at the end of their useful life, while residents said the trees could easily survive for a few more years–and that many other streets with more traffic and worse infrastructure conditions deserved higher priority. Both sides have brought in arborists who support their positions. The residents recently brought in support from national leaders in the Buddhist community, and ordained the trees as Buddhist priests. Neighbors were actively negotiating with the city, as well as seeking help in the courts. Thursday morning, the city brought in heavy equipment and a large police presence and destroyed the trees.
For the numerous stories chronicling the controversy over the past several months, visit http://gazettenet.com and use the search tool at the top to look for “warfield place cherry trees” (nonsubscribers get five free articles per month). See more pictures of the trees in bloom taken by Shel Horowtiz (author of this open letter and owner of this blog) and protest signs at (20+) Facebook
A Warfield Place cherry tree in bloom, May 2, 2021. Photo by Shel Horowitz.
A Warfield Place cherry tree–close-up of flower, May 2, 2021. Photo by Shel Horowitz.
It was shocking to read in yesterday morning’s Daily Hampshire Gazette that the sacred cherry trees the community has fought so hard to preserve that it actually ordained them as Buddhist priests–the trees that hundreds of local residents and many others from farther afield, including several of national stature, signed petitions and joined protests and wrote letters to the editor to save–were torn down with no warning, even while the city was aware that a judge was considering a restraining order, and even while the city and the residents of the street were still negotiating.
The trees were murdered at 9:00 a.m. and the restraining order that would have prevented their untimely death was given at noon.
Why the rush? Why the need to act unilaterally when many people were willing to work out a solution that made sense for all parties: the city, the residents, and of course, the trees?
This is the legacy of Public Works Director Donna LaScaleia and Mayor David Narkewicz. All the considerable good work of the 10-year Narkewicz administration will not sustain its former reputation for progressive policies and fostering democracy. When people remember this adinistration, they will not remember how it stood against racism and for inclusion, how it was a champion of addressing climate change. Their memories will be rooted in this horrible and utterly avoidable incident.
It was an attack not only on these beloved trees, but an attack on democracy–on the ability of people to feel they have influence over their own lives, and their ability to have their concerns listened to, and, hopefully, acted on.
And it was also an attack on separation of powers in government; the city was aware that a judge was considering the injunction that was eventually granted (too late), but couldn’t be bothered to let that process play out.
And of course, removing living trees goes against the Narkewicz administration’s long-stated goals of mitigating climate change locally. Trees are far and away our most effective weapons against climate catastrophe.
I think what may have happened was a felt need to be right at all costs–not to admit that there could have been one of several other ways forward that would have had far more positive outcomes, such as:
Harnessing the neighbors’ considerable energy into a working committee that would actively participate WITH the Department of Public Works Director to develop solutions that worked for the city and the residents. Even if the ultimate outcome were the same, the residents would have owned it.
Moving Warfield Place off the calendar for a few more years until the trees died naturally, while adding plantings of newer trees so when that day came, the street would have a decent tree-canopy-in-process.
Redirecting the construction funds to a city block whose need for repair was undisputed.
This need to be right, to save face, culminated in an extreme wrong. The city engaged in a “process” that not only disenfranchised the Warfield Street residents, ending in a hostile unilateral action–it undermined Northampton’s reputation as a citadel of democracy, a place that values its citizens’ public discourse and involvement. This violation of residents’ real concerns makes it harder for the next administration to get people to even trust–let alone become involved in–city government. And the city has even created a construct where it faces accusations of a hate crime–even though Mayor Narkewicz spent so much of his decade as mayor creating a wonderful climate of acceptance and even embrace of diversity.
It’s very sad. It’s irreversible–the trees are gone, democracy was seriously weakened, and the city’s reputation is in tatters–and it was completely avoidable. I expected better of Northampton and am deeply disappointed.
While we can’t bring the trees back, and this action has done potentially permanent harm to Northampton’s civic virtue, it is still possible to atone. I ask in all seriousness: How, specifically, will the city make restitution? How will this administration restore confidence in the city? How will the city offset the negative climate impacts of the tree destruction? And how will the city make the residents and neighbors of Warfield Place whole again? It won’t be easy, especially this close to the end of this administration, but it has to be done, and done very soon. What exactly is the plan?
