Moments of Leadership from the Marines – Respect and Expect; Two Sides of the Same Coin

Last week I posted a TikTok that’s special to me. It’s not my most viewed. It probably never will be. But it does share something that’s been sitting on my mind ever since – a memory of the first time I had to brief a Major General as a young Marine officer.

Today I want to share that memory with you. But first, watch the clip here:

You see, that day when I had to meet and brief the Commanding General of 2nd Marine Division, I was as green as can be. I was 22 years old. I was fresh out of the school house and brand new to my Military Occupational Specialty (MOS). More than that, I was for all intents and purposes alone in the task – because the others on site for that briefing didn’t know me or how to help me prepare. We were simply showing up, just about as authentically as you can I guess.

And for all those reasons – his seniority, my inexperience, and my lack of overall unit awareness – General Tryon should have written me off, dismissed me and come back later – when he could meet with a more established command team. But that’s not what he did.

I can still remember sitting in the Battalion headquarters command briefing room. Over the next several years, I’d spend a LOT of time in that room delivering updates on the work of our unit. But I didn’t know what to do on that day. I had only a vague understanding of what some other battalions had presented because I called around the Lieutenant underground and got some intel. But really, that was all I had.

And I was admittedly nervous.

What I didn’t share in the TikTok is just how General Tryon responded to the situation. And he had a lot of options. First and foremost, he could have just turned around and walked out, deciding to spend his time more fruitfully. Or, he could have spent the time unengaged, run out the clock and gotten out of there without hassle. He could have talked down to me or embarrassed me. But like any good leader of Marines, he took a different path.

When he walked in the door, and after the standard pleasantries, he addressed the sizable elephant in the room. He pointed out he knew I was in a unique position to be briefing him. He asked me about my time on deck so far. He asked me what I had learned in the first few days on the job. And he asked me if his staff could help me get up and running any faster.

I was stunned. It was certainly not what I expected to happen. If I’m being honest, I was probably hoping he’d just choose one of the other options and move along quickly. But instead, he gave me an incredible insight into a leadership style so many of us are still trying to learn. He demonstrated humility in his actions and he showed through those actions that there were two sides to his approach to leadership: respect and expect.

It would have been far more convenient for him, and far less impactful for me as a young leader for him to bounce. Instead, he chose to mentor me a little bit in the room.

The questions he asked showed me that he wasn’t judging me by my Marine experience in the moment, but by my judgment as a fellow officer. He wasn’t interested in embarrassing me, but rather finding a way to support me and the unit under his command. His lack of pride in the moment helped me feel a little more pride in myself. And when he left, he charged me with a little more. He told me to get ready because he wanted to see me again at the next command briefing.

Respect and expect. That day I learned that in many ways those are two sides of the same coin. They drive how we relate to others in all kinds of situations. Do we lead with a sense of respect and common ground, or do we let our pride take the reins? Do we let people off the hook for whatever convenient excuse may be in front of us, or do we meet them where they are and adjust their (and our) goals accordingly?

General Tryon will likely never remember the meeting we had. I was just some young, dumb lieutenant trying to figure it out. But he didn’t let me off the hook. He set an expectation for me to perform so I’d be in the room again. He met me where I was and respected my experience as a person, not just as a Marine. And he freely gave away his most precious, non-renewable resource – his time.

He inspired me. What a gift.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever had an experience that mirrors what General Tryon did for me. But I think it’s important that we keep track of these moments, small and large alike and think about them from time to time. So I’m going to ask something special of you right now. Will you consider leaving a comment and telling me your own exceptional encounter with a leadership lesson? If you don’t want to leave it publicly, you can email me: luke@partofthepossible.com or message me on Instagram: @luke_crumley.

I’d love to read a few of these. They’ll stay as private as you want them. But I hope you’ll take me up on it because I think you’ll find some real value in the exercise. Oh, and if you WERE the leader who had a moment like this with a subordinate, you’re not off the hook. I want to hear yours too!

Thank you in advance for chiming in. Cheers and Semper Fidelis!

Success in Advocacy: “Just be Human”

When I think about who I’ll be, and what I’ll have experienced 20 years from now, I’m fairly certain I’ll still be working on the basics, the fundamentals, of my work.

Maybe it’s from playing sports growing up, performing on stage, or my time in the Marine Corps. Regardless, at some point I accepted the fact that mastery isn’t flashy – it’s grounded. But even accepting that, and putting it into practice in my daily work around advocacy, I still get frequent reminders of just how important those basics really are.

Yesterday was a perfect example.

I was chatting with a colleague and she told me about a conversation she’d just had while working to prepare a group of advocates to go to Capitol Hill. When asked what she was going to focus on in the training session, she said it as bluntly as I often think it: “I’m going to remind them to just be human.”

If you’re just nibbling around the edges of politics – interested in it, but a little intimidated by it too – participating in the process can seem daunting. The prospect of putting yourself in the room, to speak on an issue – any issue – is probably going to have you more than a bit nervous. That nervousness can take a lot of forms.

For me, the nervous energy sits in my stomach. The morning of a big advocacy day I HAVE to go for a run. I need to push myself hard so that I feel depleted enough to make sure I actually eat something at breakfast. If not, that nervousness will find itself in a nice pairing with my morning pot of coffee and I can come across as agitated and a bit frantic.

It doesn’t matter how well you know the material, presenting yourself like that just isn’t a sound strategy. So I take active steps (like that morning run) to regulate myself.

But for others, their nervousness can present in different ways. One of the hardest to manage is an inclination to put on a grand performance. Here’s what I mean:

Have you ever heard someone deliver a speech on a political issue in the presence of a high ranking politician? What do they do? In far too many cases to count, they assume an air about themselves when they take the stage, and in the first few moments of their remarks they sound as if they’re aiming to add a new paragraph to the Declaration of Independence!

For others, their nervousness will have them hyper fixated on prepared talking points, unable to improvise and go off-script. Others become defensive and want to pick a fight. Still others find themselves frozen, rigid and silent.

Which one sounds familiar to you?

I’ve seen all of these scenarios, lived some of them, and can tell stories about many more. The reality is we all go through some iteration of excitement when we decide to put ourselves out there in some public way. The appropriate question is: how do we correct for it?

Just Be Human

One of my main goals in helping new advocates is for them to embrace the simple step of having a plan for the meeting that assigns small, accomplishable goals for each team member in the meeting. Doing that gives them time and space in their meeting to do one really important thing: be themselves.

When we feel like we are on the hook to deliver a “yes” for our cause, we double down on all the psychological and physiological factors ramping up our excitement or nervousness. By dividing the labor, we can redirect that energy, focus it, and in many ways mitigate it. We can’t eliminate it. But we can help advocates manage it, whether they know that’s happening or not.

The second half of the formula is to reinforce the basics of relationship building. I spend time helping advocates understand who will be in the room and positive ways to engage with those players. I challenge them in practice scenarios to make them feel uncomfortable and help them practice hitting their internal reset buttons. But really what I’m doing is reminding them to just be themselves, and be human.

It’s great that you want to win champions to your cause. It’s commendable that you take the time to study and internalize the talking points. But what really matters is finding a connection point to the target audience so you can start the much longer work of establishing personal credibility. You can’t do that without just being human.

Be kind, be patient, share your story, look for common ground. These are the basics, the fundamentals, any advocate needs to find long term success. Basically, just be human.

Success in Advocacy: Right-sizing your wins

Ten to fifteen years ago, I had a very different attitude toward politics. I was an all-or-nothing, winner-take-all partisan. I saw the political process as a zero sum game. That standard set me up for a lot of disappointment – because that’s just simply not the reality of our system.

But for so many, that mentality still guides how they interact with our public debates. It’s no wonder to me, then, why the tribalism of the last several years seems so much more palpable. If your tribe isn’t in power at a given level, you must be losing, right?

As I grew up in the politics of central Ohio, I found my own tribalism being challenged. As I experienced more of the art of governance versus the brawling nature of politics, I came to appreciate the difference of the two. I also came to realize from my own experience that maintaining your own peace in this work requires a shift in how we define success.

If you’re already suffering a bit of burnout over politics, and are dreading the prospect of the next Presidential election cycle, this shift could be especially important. Why? Because no matter what happens on the battlegrounds of politics, successful advocates have to bring their causes forward in the reality of governance.

Governance is ugly. It’s trench work. Governance is where the authority gained in elections is balanced by the challenge of managing complex systems. That’s a different type of conflict, and it can be harder to get people revved up to participate. Those who can keep showing up through the frustrations of that slog can chip away at their agenda.

But that starts by acknowledging the reality of the world around us and accepting that change comes in stages.

Very rarely is the slog and conflict of governance going to afford opportunities for sweeping changes. That’s not how our American system is designed. And that design has afforded us incredible stability in the face of partisan conflict.

But for advocates, that reality also challenges us to check our own expectations in the system. We can’t expect to get everything we want. We have to “right-size” our expectations to fit the reality around us. Not all of our ideas fit the current environment. Not all of our agenda will align with those in positions of influence. Because of that, we have to see “winning” in different lights.

Winning can’t always be getting a bill signed – we won’t always get a vote on our issues, let alone have the votes when we get the rare opportunity.

Winning can’t always be getting the exact appropriation we’re seeking in a budget – but are we showing incremental growth?

Hell, winning can’t always be having our issue top of mind for those in leadership positions – but it can be creating engagement opportunities to reconnect with those leaders.

This isn’t defeatism. Right-sizing your definition of winning in politics is how you commit to a longer fight. It’s how you stay above the petty frustrations of partisanship and keep moving forward on your agenda regardless of who’s in power. It’s accepting the fact you’re in a marathon not a sprint, and that you may need a little in the tank to get all the way across the finish line – a finish line that can move with every election.

If you’re serious about your causes, you have to right-size your wins and how you define success. Making that mental switch is a challenging and necessary prospect if you want to find your way to accomplishing meaningful change.

Success in Advocacy: Balancing the Three P’s

Policy. Process. Politics.

When I rattle off those three P’s of successful advocacy, how do you rate your ability to both understand and balance all three? From my view, most people can look to the list and say they’re confident about one of the three. Some people can balance two of the three. Only a handful are actively working to master both understanding and balancing the demands of all three.

It’s that last group who find themselves most consistently in moments of opportunity to advance their agendas – to move the needle on the issues important to them. But with so many of us coming up short on achieving that mastery and balance, the question must be: how do we get better? How do we, as volunteer advocates, grow and improve?

Well, first off, we have to acknowledge what we’re really talking about:

Policy

In all of our own lives, we see clear problems and straightforward solutions. But to be clear, what we mean when we say things like “common sense” solutions, we really mean “common sense solutions to people who think like me.” We all know the life and experience immediately in front of us. Shaped by our community, our environment, our career, we become highly confident in our own approaches to solving problems. But those solutions fit that highly localized experience. In the world of advocacy, we are forced into the friction points where our solutions meet other people’s experiences.

It’s bound to happen at every level of society. Even in small communities, spats arise between local elected officials, and their supporters, because of fundamental differences in how we think problems should be solved. Want proof? Go to a local zoning committee meeting – or better yet a local school board meeting.

Good mastery of policy development depends on our ability to evolve our policy solutions to the time and place of the broader debate. This means that, fundamentally, compromise cannot be a dirty word in our work. Principles and goals can guide us, but we have to be willing to accept incremental wins that move us closer to the goal line. Being strong in this P doesn’t require achieving perfection, it requires flexibility.

Process

If understanding our own solutions is where many feel confident, I’d say the process of public policy is where most folks feel the ground shifting beneath their feet. Let’s face it, we don’t do a good job getting the average person informed on how public policy happens beyond the Schoolhouse Rock song. Sadly, that song leaves out a great deal of the detail – and we all know the devil is in the details.

Better understanding the process of public policy is how we get better at timing. Understanding the process helps us keep our powder dry for the moments that really matter. It’s how we time calls to action to our networks that allow us to maximize the impact of the public voice. It’s how we avoid wasting our volunteers’ time and causing them to burnout on the churn of public issues.

But individuals aren’t in a position to track and ultimately master the process. We have our own lives to tend to after all. We have our own businesses, our own families, our own challenges. That’s where the power of advocacy communities comes in to play. When we align ourselves with others committed to the same policy solution goals, we fill a critical competency gap for ourselves. Those organizations – trade associations, non-profits, etc. – become force multipliers for advancing the causes that really matter to us. They help us navigate the details – details like the committee process that so often gums up the works. They help us engage with decision makers at the right moment. And they help us maintain our endurance to stay in the fight.

Politics

What if I told you that it wasn’t just about conservative vs. liberal, or Democrat vs. Republican?

Politics is the debate or conflict among individuals or parties jockeying to achieve power. That distinction is important. Often times, the process by which we achieve authority sharing within public institutions depends a lot less on our preferred political party, and a great deal more on the relationships between individuals within those institutions.

Within leadership teams in legislatures (both state and federal), within committees, within caucuses these personal relationship dynamics drive aspects of the process. Those with the gavel can both accelerate or stymie the process. Those out of power can create points of contention on major issues that force tangential debates and derail progress. Politics within public advocacy is really the dynamic of people within public advocacy.

We as individual advocates are pressed to understand these interpersonal dynamics. We’re challenged to learn the who’s who and the who hates who of it all. Again, this is where surrounding ourselves with an advocacy team makes all the difference.

How do we get it right?

I hope this short piece reminded you of the intricacies of advocating for our causes. Each one of the three P’s – while easy to understand on the surface – reveals layers of complexity. We get our work in advocacy right by embracing that complexity as what it really is: an art, not a science. We can’t easily measure our impact, our progress, or our output. It’s more than just “passed a bill.” That metric can leave you in the lurch for a long while. We get it right by sussing out the necessary evolutions of our policy proposals, navigating the shifting sands of the process, and keeping our finger on the pulse of interpersonal relationships.

Getting advocacy right looks a lot more like flowing between each of these three pillars and finding where we are lacking in a given moment. It looks a lot more like surrounding ourselves with people who think differently than we do. And it looks a lot more like adjusting our strategies in real time as we continually receive feedback from the process. The best way to do all of those is simple: don’t go it alone. Find the individuals and organizations working to navigate it all together, and you’ll find yourself getting better along the way.

Let me tell you about Sue

Much of what it takes to be a successful advocate is learning just how to reassess and move to the next mission when your efforts come to a halt. That’s probably also the most frustrating lesson to learn. And I have to talk about it a lot.

In fact, I have a case study in advocacy greatness I share when I train prospective advocates. I have a slide in my presentation deck that just says: “Let me tell you about Sue.”

Sue was an 80-something Navy widow who I met within my first few weeks as a brand new congressional casework staffer. I was fresh off active duty and acclimating myself to an entirely different world. It was a crash course in professional development and administrative law. And in the middle of drinking from the fire hose, this Irish spitfire of a woman called the office to tell me a joke.

It wasn’t just any joke. It was a dirty joke. Needless to say, this wasn’t what I was expecting.

I’m not going to tell you all of Sue’s story here. But I’ll say this: she’d been in battle over her late husband’s military record for decades. Understandably, she was more than her fair share of frustrated by the time we met.

So why did she take the time to tell me a dirty joke?

Those of us from the Naval services have a special affinity for each other. Sure, we have our points of friction – but our shared traditions give us common ground. And we learn very quickly to set aside all the other identities that define us and see each other as “soldiers of the sea.” For better or worse, part of that identity is a touch of dark humor.

Sue knew that because she’d been living the Navy life for more than 50 years. Even after her husband’s all-too-early passing, she stayed close to “the family,” finding ways to support the next generations of Sailors and Marines in her community. So she knew that leveraging her wit would be a pretty sure fire way to make an inroad with the new guy handling her case.

Too many would see that as a waste of time. But in that moment, Sue was teaching me one of the most important lessons I’ll have ever learned in advocacy: without winning the people, you can never count on winning the fight.

Sue was showing me through her actions just how important it was to keep the people ahead of the process. After all, by the time I’d come along she’d dealt with more than a dozen different congressional staffers over more than a quarter century. Despite their efforts, we as a “team” weren’t any closer to cracking the code and resolving her issue.

After hearing her Irish brogue (music to my Celtic ears) rattle off that inappropriate quip I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to let her down.

I worked with Sue for a few years thereafter. We were ultimately successful and found the evidence necessary to reopen her case and win. Six months after we won that case her granddaughter came by to see me. She was there to tell me that Sue had just passed – finally able to rest after her long fight.

When I think back to all that I worked on during my time as a Congressional staffer, Sue’s case is still near the top of the list. She doesn’t rank there just because of the win (though that feather in my cap doesn’t hurt).

No, Sue sits high on my list because of the lesson I’ll never forget: politics can be an ugly business – but investing in relationships can bolster you, carry you, and ultimately deliver you to a win. It’s not easy. But it’s right. And after all, nothing worth having in this life comes easy.

Why You ALWAYS Need an “Ask”

The stories I could tell you.

Over 8.5 years working for members of Congress, there were a LOT of constituent meetings. These were opportunities for concerned citizens to engage directly with their elected representative – or that representative’s staff – to share a slice of what was happening back in the district.

Sometimes they were big sweeping issues. Other times they were narrow, localized challenges. But too many times I left a meeting, scratching my head and wondering “what on earth do they want us to do?”

And if you’re wondering – that’s one of the worst reactions you can accomplish in an advocacy meeting.

Fast forward to last year when I was training a group of prospective advocates. We’d finally arrived to the point where they were ready to start working in teams and preparing themselves for meeting with elected officials. And as it always does, they asked me an important question: “so what do we talk about?”

If you’ve read some of my previous posts, you know I’m keen on storytelling. That’s the communication method that can most effectively deliver the gravity of a problem. But a story is almost useless without a hero to face that problem. A great advocacy meeting sets the decision maker up to step into that heroic role. But how do we make sure we get there?

Always, Always, Always Have an Ask

Each member of Congress represents roughly 750,000 people. Let’s assume they want to give every one of those people an equal amount of time to discuss issues in a year. If that member never ate, slept, or went to the restroom, each of us hypothetical constituents would receive about 45 seconds of equal time in a year.

The reality is that most folks simply have no driving need or inclination to engage in advocacy. So the groups that do show up to engage in the process can get a much more substantial opportunity. But the truth remains: time is a precious, non-renewable commodity. We should never, ever, leave a meeting where the decision maker doesn’t have a clear ask. If we do, we’ve wasted their time and squandered our own chance to win a champion to our cause.

Over time I’ve simplified this in my own work. If there’s not a clear, measurable ask for a specific decision maker, the default answer is that we shouldn’t pursue a meeting with them. And I abide by that with very few exceptions.

But when we do break that threshold, how do we craft a good ask? What gets us over that hurdle and into a proactive mindset to pursue a meeting with a key target? Here are my best practices:

#1 – Simple

An ask shouldn’t take any more than 2 sentences to convey. Constraining ourselves in this way forces us to boil the ask down to its core aims. Here’s an example…

“Representative, we are here to ask you to co-sponsor HR 1234, the Good Governance Act.”

There are some key elements here. First, a simple action: co-sponsor a bill. Secondly, the bill number for them to reference later. And lastly, the bill name that they’ll hear their colleagues and staff use in conversation. These key elements keep your ask short, and to the point, with no ambiguity on the expectation.

#2 – Relevant

Sometimes we don’t know just who should be tackling an issue – especially in the early days of discovering just what the problem really is. But when we crack that code, we should be targeting our engagement to those who can actually do something about it.

For instance, in the example above, we wouldn’t be talking to a county commissioner about a piece of legislation in the US House of Representatives. That’s simply not their job. They may have opinions about it. They may even be able to get you connected to someone to discuss the issue further, but the ask above just wouldn’t make sense for them. They can’t take that kind of action.

Our asks should always be relevant to the target’s position or sphere of influence. Failure to align the ask to the target is a great way to feel like you’re spinning your wheels. You’ll make a lot of noise and go precisely nowhere.

#3 – Measurable

This is the biggie. 

Now there are plenty of ways we can claim “success” in advocacy. If we’re engaging with a target for the first time, simply getting in the room and walking away with a positive connection made can be a big win (especially in the current political climate).

But the ultimate judge of success is whether you can tie one of their actions to the request that you made. That’s why we advocate for the causes that are important to us. We want to move the needle.

In the example above, the ask (co-sponsor a bill) is plainly measurable. It’s a yes-no action. There’s no gray area. And though it can’t always be so cut and dry, we should endeavor to maximize the opportunities for our asks to be measurable.

The alternative is unsustainable. Here’s what I mean.

In nearly every training I’ve offered, the first chance a team has to craft their ask they make it far too vague. The most common approach is that they ask the target to “get educated” on the issue. Well, two things: 1) you just insulted them; and 2) why do you think you’re there in the first place? The entirety of your meeting may be the only chance they have of grasping your issue. YOU are the educator.

If you’re just starting in advocacy, all of this can seem a bit overwhelming. But aligning yourself with an association, a charity, or other civic group can help. Those teams can help equip you to avoid the pitfalls and always show up with a right-sized ask. Find the right one and you’re going to find yourself better prepared to jump into the fray, and deliver an ask that might just get your issue moving.

Failing to recognize either of those shortcomings puts you in a bad spot. That’s why simplicity, relevancy and measurability matter. They’ll keep you from a social faux pas AND keep you on task.

“Do You Really Believe this Sh!t?”

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a hell of a run on social media. One video I posted has had more than 600k views across my various platforms. And while far from “viral,” it’s still been stunning.

Imagine having the opportunity to share your thoughts with a crowd that could fill The Shoe, the famed football stadium at my alma mater – The Ohio State University – 6 times over. It’s a fairly short list of individuals who get invited to speak at a venue like that – but social media puts it at our fingertips every day. And that’s miraculous.

But what’s been most humbling throughout the experience has been navigating the mixed bag of reactions to that video. The spectrum is wide.

That’s not surprising. In the video I mention I’m a lobbyist, and I talk about a strategy to improve problem solving in group settings. Well, right off the bat – any time I tell people I’m a lobbyist, I can expect a certain type of reaction.

We hate lobbyists in this country. At least we think we do. We love the folks who are advocating on behalf of our own causes and bemoan the same activity coming from our opposition. That’s nothing new.

But what struck me was just how quickly some people moved past that identity issue and started questioning if I really do believe the things I talk and write about.

I’m the first to admit that a sense of optimism in politics undoubtedly will be viewed as naive. That’s fine. If you want to write me, or my kind, off like that go ahead. But here’s where I’d challenge you:

The easiest people in the world to dismiss are those who don’t show up.

I’m deeply optimistic about the opportunities that we have in our public discourse. Sure, I get as frustrated as the next guy when I see partisanship get in the way of good policy and statesmanship. I hate when ego and power grabs drive the agenda. But we have to acknowledge that they do and still find a way to show up.

So how do I keep showing up? And more importantly, how can you?

We have to start by thoughtfully inspecting our own paradigms. If we tell ourselves that all politicians are corrupt; if we accept the lie at face value that the individuals in government are collectively in it for the wrong reasons; if we choose to believe that no one wants to find solutions – well, then, that’s going to drive our actions.

Unfortunately, that belief system will specifically drive us to inaction.

I try to avoid talking about politics – or politicians – in collective or normative terms. I try really hard not to think of individuals as groups. I also try to not spend too much time dwelling on what I think the world should look like.

These simple acknowledgments of what is, prevent me from bemoaning what isn’t.

Ultimately, that may just be the real super power that keeps people in the fight for causes they deeply care about. It may be the X factor that keeps lobbyists like me willing to show up for clients; and for those clients to keep showing up for their causes.

When people question whether I really “believe the shit” I say on social media, it’s easy for me to say yes. I really do.

I’ve been on both sides of the table in politics – working for elected officials and advocating issues before them. I’ve seen what works. I’ve known many of the good – and bad – actors who are involved in the process, and I treat them as the individuals they are. Boils and all.

I’ll never convince you that they’re all good – and I don’t want to. I want to expose the selfish, and promote the statesmen. What I hope to convince you of is this: showing up matters more than you think.

Your story, your experience, your thoughts and expertise matter. A lot. By accepting a negative paradigm, you’re only hurting yourself, your causes, and our dialogue. Professional advocates like me can help you move past that. We can help you frame a different paradigm.

Use us – if only for our ability to stay in the long game. If you don’t, you may just be the easiest person in the world to ignore.

Addendum:

It occurs to me that when I say things like “acknowledge what is,” readers may interpret that as “accept what is.” Far from it.

We can expend a great deal of energy wishing for a different world. That’s wasted energy. We aren’t called to wish for it, we’re called to work for it.

Acknowledging the state of play in current politics is a mental management technique to keep us sane. That affords is the time for finding the motivation to work toward change. It’s what helps us fight like hell for something better.

Don’t Go It Alone

Have you ever heard this African proverb?

The concept is pretty straightforward. We can accomplish a lot of great things through persistence and quick action. But we can overcome entirely different barriers when we opt into partnering with others. It’s how we’ve developed as a social species.

Yet when it comes to engaging with politics – at least here in America – it seems many of us are perfectly willing to ignore the wisdom in this proverb. Why is that? Why, even when we are perturbed by the status quo, are we so unlikely to join a team trying to change that status quo?

Our politics are immensely personal. Even more so at a time when partisan rancor drives wedges between family members, friends and colleagues alike. It’s not unreasonable to expect that as the vitriol increases, the vast majority are willing to shy away from publicly engaging in a dialogue when they stand to lose so much.

But the reality of our political system is that it was designed to move slowly, thoughtfully, and incrementally. That grinding, halting mechanism means we simply can’t go fast. So what does that leave us?

Well, if we truly want to accomplish anything in advocacy, that leaves us only one option: we must go together.

One of the most common questions I receive in advocacy trainings, after speeches, and on social media is: where do we start if we want to get involved?

It’s an understandable question. The process, the politics, and the people involved in the public debate on the issues of our day are invariably intimidating and confusing. We’re dealing with complex issues through complex systems managed by complicated people. And it’s hard to figure out just where to begin.

My simple answer is this: find the group of people who will help you to continue showing up, and they will take you further. They will boost your endurance. They will help you land in cumulative and iterative touch points with those in power, helping you build credibility and remain in the infinite game that is advocacy.

What does that look like? Here are my top 3 recommendations on next steps:

1. Join a trade association – an organization representing the interests of those who do the same work that you do. Every industry has them, and they always need committed volunteers.

2. Identify and support a non-profit with an advocacy focus. Many charities do great work in delivering services directly to those in need. Not all charities work to change the systems that stand in the way of eliminating the need for those services. Find the ones that have a thoughtful political action strategy and your assistance could leave a greater, longer lived impact.

3. Join a civic organization. Sometimes you won’t have a cause driving your engagement. Not all issues are our issues. But even in those times, organizations like your local Rotary club can help keep you informed of what’s going on in your own backyard. At a time when we are all a bit more insular, these groups play an important role in opening our minds to the broader world around us. Further, they can expand our network and help us find those trade associations and non-profits that so need our help.

Trust me, I get it. Politics is off-putting on its best days. It’s downright toxic just about every other day. But the designed friction of our system means we can’t go fast. That only leaves us one option if we truly want to seek change: we have to go together.

P.s. Did you notice what didn’t make the list? You don’t have to chose the political party route. You can be incredibly successful as an advocate without adding to that partisan rancor. Ask me about it some day.

No One Will Give A Damn If You’re Not Genuine

What do you say to a Member of Congress – or their staff – when you finally have a chance to meet with them?

Yesterday I had an opportunity to speak with a local Rotary club. I love these civic organizations that bring diverse individuals together. They are miniature demonstrations of our ability to work together toward common goals. And ever since the first time I attended a Rotary meeting as a young congressional staffer, I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Rotarians.

This group asked me to come and speak about advocacy and why they’re engagement as individuals is just so important. This wasn’t a formal training, but a quick reminder on why they matter. But there’s one item from my remarks I just wish I’d had more time to explore:

The importance of authenticity.

You see, we talked about a lot of what you’ve seen written on this site: the value of storytelling and relationship building, the necessity of showing up, and some of what you can do to really stand out.

But even if you do all those things right and are brilliant in the basics, your efforts can fall apart if you fail to show up as your most authentic self. No one will give a damn about you – or your cause – if you’re not genuine.

What do I mean by that?

Congressional staff spend a lot of time meeting with constituent groups. A lot of time. And in all of that time one skill becomes acutely honed: they can tell pretty well when folks are just going through the motions.

Talking points are a dime a dozen. Every advocacy organization arms their volunteer advocates with those basics. What stands out is when an advocate takes the concept of those talking points and can weave them into their own life story. When we connect the dots for staff in this way, it helps humanize our issues and add just the right touch of authenticity to help you stand out.

We place so much pressure on ourselves to be flawless when we’re fighting for our causes. That’s both understandable and incredibly burdensome. If you are showing up as your authentic self, you stand a good chance of capturing their fleeting attention and being remembered. Balance that with a respectful approach to relationship building, and you’re well on your way to making big strides for your cause.

Authenticity – being genuine – affords space for targeted decision makers to see you in the light of your many identities. Yes, I’m a Marine and may be talking to them about veterans issues. But I can connect with them better as a parent, an employee, a business owner or even a Star Wars fan. Gaining that space in conversation will feed your ability to have the next meeting, and the next, and the one after that.

All of a sudden, you may just find yourself in the sweet spot: cumulative and iterative conversations leading to them pushing their team to take an action. That’s the ballgame.

With All Due Respect, That’s Chicken Sh*t

There are a lot of great stories about former Speaker of the House, John Boehner. And as a fellow Ohioan, I’m contractually obligated to share great stories about Ohioans. With recent events in the Buckeye state, I felt there was no better time than the present to share.

A number of years ago, I was working for a member of Ohio’s congressional delegation – one who happened to be very close to then Speaker Boehner. They’d worked through a lot together, including the minefield that is House GOP caucus politics.

You see, whichever major American party is in the majority actually has a much harder time of it than most of us realize. It’s a great deal easier to be in the minority – excepting the fact that fewer of your bills are likely to make it out of committee. What I mean when I say easer is this: you don’t have to lead, and you get to spend your time lobbing political grenades at the majority. Those are lower stakes.

But when you’re in the majority, you have to spar with that opposition and maintain the ranks of your own coalition to maintain any hope of actually governing. At the time of this story, Speaker Boehner was doing just that. He was managing the mainstream wing of the GOP, sparring with Congressional Democrats and battling dissension in his own ranks represented – at the time – by those known as the Freedom Caucus.

You see, that particular group of about 40 members really wanted to pull the rest of the party into their lane. They’d use crisis and friction points the same as the minority party as leverage to advance their own agenda. They had just enough votes to be a real force within the caucus.

Speaker Boehner knew how to pick and choose his battles, though. He knew when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. And during one of those moments of friction, he demonstrated his own personal – and colorful – brand of leadership.

There was a big vote coming the next day. It was a must pass measure in the heat of a really ugly dogfight in Congress. And the Freedom Caucus – at least publicly – wasn’t going to vote the way the Speaker needed them to in order to win the vote. And that was a problem.

But a bigger problem was their justification.

You see, one of those Freedom Caucus members stood up to speak during the GOP caucus deliberations in order to address their concerns on that vote. What did they say? According to those in the room it was something like this:

Mr. Speaker, don’t get me wrong – I want this bill to pass. But we compromised with the Democrats just a little too much. I can’t vote for this thing then go back to my constituents and sell it to them. They aren’t going to like it. It’s a good bill, but they aren’t going to like it. I’ll vote “present” but I can’t vote for that bill.

After a moment, Speaker Boehner took the floor to respond. He looked his colleague in the eye, and said:

“That’s chicken shit.”

Why am I sharing this?

I started posting on this site around two years ago. And the catalyst is easy to identify. That summer we spent reckoning the tragic death of George Floyd, and I was pissed.

We were at a junction moment when liberals and conservatives alike could – if handled the right way – push for meaningful criminal justice reforms. But almost as soon as it began, I expressed to those in my own life that I felt the moment was going to slip by us, again.

I had a gut feeling that the activists in the crowd would drown out those who could guide effective advocacy. Because of that, I thought the movement would lose steam before that cumulative and iterative work of advocacy could be accomplished. Sadly it did. Not much really changed.

Just this past weekend, Ohio had to wrestle with the breaking news of a young man shot 60 times by police in Akron. I refuse to jump to conclusions in any situation like this. Invariably the story evolves as details emerge. But even a default to respecting due process leaves room for the big questions like why? And more importantly, what the hell do I do now?

2020 was my saturation point. I realized I had to do something, no matter how small, if I was going to come to terms with the weight of those questions. That’s why I started sharing my thoughts on advocacy here. Because I genuinely believe we can empower average Americans to engage better with their government, their representatives, and the political machine.

Doing so won’t prevent a death, but it puts us in a posture to help pull, and ultimately bend, the arc of history toward justice.

That’s the rub though. Taking action means taking ownership. And if you haven’t reached your saturation point, you may not be there quite yet. But in the long run, sitting back and ignoring the issues driving you mad simply isn’t good enough any more.

With all due respect, it’s chicken shit.

You’re pissed about a court decision? Hold legislators accountable for failing to own the process and pass meaningful laws. You’re pissed your viewpoint isn’t being considered? Lean in and show up – join an association and get to work. You’re mad that your taxes are too high for too little delivered in return? Me too. Let’s learn how to dig into the process and fix it.

All of those things are achievable. They are all possible. And all you have to do is choose to be a part of it. When you choose to get trained as an advocate, you start that process of taking ownership. You also learn ways to stay in the fight when the passion of a moment has cooled.

But at some point you do have to choose. You have to choose to show up and do the work. You have to stop being chicken shit. That’s the lesson Speaker Boehner was trying to teach his colleague. And it’s why I keep showing up here.

I may not be quite as colorful as John Boehner, but I can help you show up in the right ways. And I’ll keep doing it – even if I disagree with you. Why?

Because I ain’t chicken shit – and you aren’t either.