We the People – All of Us

Once again, I’m going to ask you to read these words as practical, not political.  Something about the mediator in me- I tend toward trying to identify the problems to solve and then brainstorm possible solutions.  It’s in my DNA.  It’s what conflict management does.  It is also a response to never wanting to feel powerless.  I tend toward trying to find what I can do.  Mostly of the time, this has served me well.  It’s trial and error though, and grace for myself and others.

Every day, I sit with people who feel like they've woken up in an unfamiliar world. In my work as a mediator, I hear their stories of confusion, fear, and powerlessness. Healthcare workers watch support systems crumble. Community leaders see their neighbors retreat into silence. Ordinary citizens witness changes that leave them questioning their place in a country they thought they knew. These conversations echo a shared disorientation - as if the ground beneath our feet has shifted, leaving us struggling to find our balance.

When government support diminishes and dissent faces retaliation, it's natural to feel powerless. But this sentiment overlooks a fundamental truth embedded in our Constitution's opening words: "We the People." These weren't just flowery phrases penned by the founders - they were a reminder that governmental power flows from citizens, not the other way around.

The scope of government service reductions touches nearly every aspect of American life. Educational funding cuts threaten school programs that serve our most vulnerable students. Dramatic reductions in USAID diminish our ability to respond to global humanitarian crises and maintain vital international relationships. Scaled-back disaster response capabilities leave communities more vulnerable when natural disasters strike.

Food assistance programs face deep cuts, affecting millions of families already struggling to make ends meet. Each reduction ripples through communities, creating cascading effects that disproportionately impact those already facing challenges.

Yet within this dismantling of government services lies an unexpected opportunity.

While these cuts create immediate and serious challenges for vulnerable populations, they also open space for direct civic action and community-led solutions. When official channels step back, citizens can step forward. The very gaps being created are opportunities for communities to reimagine how these needs might be met through local action and mutual support.

Think of it this way: Smaller government doesn't just mean fewer services - it means the potential for more direct control over where our resources go. Instead of having decisions made for us through taxation and bureaucracy, we can actively choose which causes and communities to support. I would argue that we have a responsibility to examine what causes and communities to support.   This shift from passive taxpayer to active citizen requires more engagement, but it also offers greater agency.

Fear of retaliation keeps many voices silent. This is a classic bullying tactic - create enough fear that opposition melts away. But history shows us that bullies, whether on the playground or in positions of power, retreat when faced with unified resistance. The key isn't to match aggression with aggression - you can't out-mean mean. Instead, it's about standing firm in our values and exercising our rights persistently and peacefully.

History has never favored the silent. From the abolitionists who spoke against slavery when it was dangerous to do so, to the suffragettes who faced ridicule and imprisonment, to civil rights activists who risked everything for justice - progress has always been driven by those who chose to speak despite their fear. When we look back at watershed moments in human rights and social justice, we don't remember those who stayed quiet to maintain their comfort - we remember those who raised their voices when silence would have been easier.

Moreover, history teaches us the steep price of silence. Time and again, we've seen how unchecked aggression grows bolder in the face of acquiescence. The world learned this lesson painfully in the 1930s, when initial silence and appeasement in response to authoritarian aggression only emboldened further territorial demands and human rights violations. We saw it during the Civil Rights era, when white moderates' calls for "patience" and "order" effectively enabled continued injustice. Even in our everyday lives, we see how workplace bullying, community discrimination, or institutional abuse tends to escalate when met with silence. Silence, while sometimes feeling like the safer choice in the moment, often carries a greater long-term cost than speaking up.

As a mediator in healthcare and organizational settings, I've witnessed how seemingly intractable conflicts can transform when people reclaim their agency. The same principles apply to civic engagement. When official channels fail, informal networks and grassroots organizations often prove more nimble and responsive to community needs.

I think this is a good time to identify our super-powers – our gifts that we have to share with the world.  Then I think we might choose to look outside ourselves at who needs help.  It may be alarming, daunting, and overwhelming to see how many people could use our help, but looking away doesn’t make problems go away.   It makes them grow.

Some things we could do:

1.Form or join local mutual aid networks

2.Look at our neighbors and outside our neighbors. Who needs support?

3. Support community organizations doing vital work

4. Create safe spaces for dialogue and organizing

5. Document and share stories of community resilience

6. Build coalitions across traditional dividing lines

7. Recognize and consider support to those whose basic needs are not being met

The current political climate might feel overwhelming but remember - every major social advance in American history came from citizen action, not government initiative. Civil rights, women's suffrage, labor protections - all began with people deciding they wouldn't wait for permission to demand change.

For generations, America has celebrated rugged individualism - the self-made success story, the lone entrepreneur, the individual pursuit of happiness. While this ethos drove remarkable achievements, it may no longer serve us in today's interconnected world. Perhaps it's time to reimagine America as a team sport, where success is measured not by individual triumph, but by our collective progress.

This shift requires us to look beyond our immediate circumstances and recognize how policies and cuts affect our neighbors, both near and far. The struggling family across town, the rural community facing hospital closures, the coastal village dealing with climate impacts - their challenges are our challenges. Their victories are our victories.

We rise or fall together.

In today's interconnected world, this perspective must extend beyond our borders. When we retreat from global engagement and mutual support, we don't just harm distant communities - we diminish our own security and prosperity. The challenges we face - climate change, public health, economic stability - don't stop at national boundaries. Neither can our solutions.

The choice before us isn't whether to complain about these changes or accept them passively. It's whether to reclaim our power as citizens and communities to shape our collective future. Every time we choose action over despair, cooperation over isolation, we rebuild not just programs or services, but the very fabric of our society. We demonstrate that effective change doesn't always flow from the top down - it can surge from the ground up.

In a world where differences are too often seen as threats, we can't afford to view potential allies as enemies. Building walls - whether physical or metaphorical - doesn't make us safer; it makes us more vulnerable. True security comes from building bridges, fostering understanding, and recognizing that our fates are intertwined with those of our global neighbors.

This isn't about partisan politics. It's about remembering that democracy isn't a spectator sport - it's the ultimate team endeavor. When government steps back, citizens can step up together. When official voices try to silence dissent, we can amplify each other. When support systems crumble, we can build new ones - not as individuals, but as communities united in purpose.

Because they (the government) won't doesn't mean we (the people) can't. In fact, their refusal might be exactly what we need to remember our power and responsibility as citizens. We see the ball is dropped. The question is: Will we pick it up? We are writing history and leaving a legacy. I don't think that we can for get that.