That is the sentence I keep imagining future historians writing in 2276. Not as prophecy, not as threat, and not as a patriotic doomsday fantasy. More like a sentence written with the relief of distance: America almost didn’t make it through the early twenty-first century. Its institutions were brittle. Its people were distrustful and exhausted. Its information systems rewarded outrage faster than wisdom. Its politics kept turning complexity into combat. Its citizens could feel that something was wrong, but struggled to imagine what could be better.

And then, somehow, something changed.

Not all at once. Not because one leader fixed it. Not because one party finally defeated the other forever. Not because everyone suddenly agreed. But because enough people remembered that democracy was never supposed to be a finished product. It was an experiment, a practice, a promise, and a system for continuing the conversation when the answers are not yet known.

That is the future I want to imagine.

And today, for the Fourth of July, I’m launching a small experiment to help us practice imagining it together.

It’s called 2276.us.

The Future Is Hard to Imagine

Earlier this week, I wrote that the United States may need a new declaration. Not a declaration of independence from one another, but something closer to a declaration of interdependence: a way for the people of this country to name what we still value, where our systems are failing, and what we are willing to build together.

But before a people can declare a future, they have to be able to imagine one. That is the part I keep getting stuck on.

Americans are not short on dissatisfaction. We are very good at being disappointed in the country. We are very good at being angry at the people in charge. We are very good at naming hypocrisy, corruption, dysfunction, bad incentives, institutional decay, elite capture, economic pressure, media manipulation, and all the ways the system does not seem to be working for ordinary people.

We can imagine decline. We can imagine collapse. We can imagine authoritarianism, fragmentation, civil conflict, technological chaos, and everyone becoming more suspicious of everyone else forever. We can imagine a lot of bad endings.

For some reason, we are much less practiced at imagining democratic renewal.

I do not mean vague hope or sentimental optimism. I do not mean pretending that everything will work out somehow. I mean concrete civic imagination. What would a more capable democracy actually feel like? What would make people feel meaningfully represented? What would help us disagree without treating each other as enemies of the future? What institutions would be worthy of trust? What would make government feel like it works for us again? What civic habits would help a free people remain free?

These are not easy questions. But I think they may be some of the most important questions in American life, because if we cannot imagine democratic renewal, we will not build it.

The Declaration Came Before the Design

One of the things that keeps striking me about the founding is that the Declaration came before the design. The founders did not begin with the Constitution. They began with a declaration.

That matters.

The Declaration of Independence did not create a legislature, establish a court system, solve federalism, design the presidency, create the Bill of Rights, or prove that the new country could survive partisan conflict. It did something prior to all of that. It named values. It named grievances. It named the gap between what people believed and what the existing system had become. And it declared that the gap had become intolerable.

The design came later. The Constitution came later. The Bill of Rights came later. The peaceful transfer of power came later. The slow, painful, unfinished expansion of the meaning of “we the people” came much later. And that process is still not finished.

This is important because I do not think we need to redesign the whole country overnight. We do not need to know exactly what American democracy should look like in 2050, much less 2276. We do not need to have all the answers. But we do need to recover the capacity to say, together: this is what we value, this is where our systems are failing those values, this is what we are no longer willing to accept, and this is what we are willing to build toward.

Values Larger Than Ourselves

Of course, the Declaration itself was born inside a contradiction so large it nearly breaks the page. The men who declared that “all men are created equal” did not live as if all people were created equal. Many of them owned human beings. Women were excluded from political life. Indigenous nations were treated not as sovereign peoples, but as obstacles to expansion. The founding promise was real, and so was the hypocrisy.

Frederick Douglass saw this with devastating clarity. In 1852, in the speech now remembered as “What to the Slave Is the Fourth of July?”, he asked what Independence Day meant to those still enslaved. His answer was not gentle. He exposed the moral obscenity of a nation celebrating liberty while denying it to millions.

But Douglass did not respond by saying the principles were meaningless. He treated them as real enough to indict the nation.

That may be one of the strange powers of a declaration. A real declaration is not merely a description of who we already are. It is a standard set beyond ourselves. The Declaration mattered not because its authors fully lived up to it. They obviously did not. It mattered because they gave future generations a standard by which to judge the country, challenge it, correct it, and expand the meaning of its promises.

The best values are often larger than the people who first declare them. That is not an excuse for hypocrisy. It is a responsibility.

If we declare values we already perfectly embody, we are probably not declaring very much. The question is whether we can name principles worthy enough that future generations might use them to call us forward. Think “stretch goals.”

Introducing the Archive of the Future 2276.us

So here is the thought experiment.

Imagine it is the year 2276. The United States is celebrating its 500th anniversary. Historians agree that the country almost did not make it through the early twenty-first century. The 2020s were marked by distrust, institutional decay, democratic fatigue, technological upheaval, and deep uncertainty. People were angry. People were lonely. People were losing faith that the system could adapt.

But somehow, Americans changed course. The republic adapted. Democracy matured. Conflict became a source of renewal rather than collapse. People found meaningful ways to participate in decisions that affected their lives. Institutions became more responsive, more trustworthy, and more capable of learning. The country remained free and pluralistic through centuries of technological, ecological, cultural, and political transformation.

What happened? What did we finally learn? What did we redesign? What did we preserve? What did we stop tolerating? What did we start practicing? What principles did we finally grow into? What did future generations thank us for?

That is the question behind 2276.us.

Today I am launching 2276.us as a public invitation to imagine the second half of the American experiment. It is not a prediction market, a campaign, a think tank, or a social media platform. It is not a place to win arguments about the news cycle.

It is a civic imagination laboratory. A public archive of possible futures. A museum of the future we might still choose to build.

Anyone can read it. Anyone can contribute. You can write under your name, a pseudonym, or anonymously. You can submit an essay, a story, a speculative history, a constitutional idea, a civic ritual, a redesigned institution, a cultural practice, a question, a principle, a warning, a hope, or a vision of how we made it.

The goal is not consensus. The goal is imagination.

Because maybe before we can build better democratic systems, we need more people practicing the ability to imagine them. And because imagination is not separate from politics. A constitution is imagination written into law. A court system is imagination written into procedure. A public school is imagination written into brick and curriculum. A peaceful transfer of power is imagination written into civic habit.

Every institution we take for granted began as something people had to imagine before anyone could build it. And every failing institution is, in part, an old imagination that no longer fits the complexity of the world it is trying to serve.

A Different Kind of Online Space

I also wanted 2276.us to feel different from the internet we are used to.

So there are no likes, no upvotes, and no popularity rankings. There is no incentive to perform certainty for applause.

Instead, readers can respond with reflective reactions: Resonates, Expands the Future, Raises New Questions, Challenges Me, and Worth Preserving. Nothing is ranked by popularity.

That matters to me because the point of this project is not to find the most viral vision of the future. It is to create a quieter place where people can think slowly, imagine generously, and leave something behind for others to build on.

Over time, I hope the archive will be able to reflect patterns back to us. What themes keep recurring? What values show up across ideological differences? What tensions are real and unresolved? Where do people who disagree still seem to be reaching for something similar? What principles might be emerging from the scattered imagination of a people that has not yet given up on itself?

I do not know what this project will become. That is part of the experiment.

You Do Not Have to Imagine All of 2276

I know 2276 is a mind-bender. That is part of the point.

Almost no one can put their feet fully in the shoes of people living 250 years from now. The people of 1776 could not have imagined us either. They could not have imagined the internet, nuclear weapons, artificial intelligence, antibiotics, airplanes, satellites, climate change, social media, or a country where the descendants of enslaved people, immigrants from every continent, Indigenous nations, women, religious minorities, and people of every background would still be struggling, arguing, building, and belonging inside the same unfinished experiment.

They could not imagine us. But they did not need to.

They needed to build foundations that could survive change.

So you do not have to imagine all of 2276. Start smaller. Name one thing you hope future generations will say we finally learned how to do. Name one institution we redesigned. Name one civic habit we recovered. Name one conflict we learned to hold differently. Name one democratic capacity we developed. Name one technology we learned to govern wisely. Name one ritual that helped people remember they belonged to something larger than their faction. Name one principle worth preserving. Name one value we may not yet know how to embody, but should declare anyway.

You do not have to predict the future. You only have to leave one good question, one good story, one good foundation, or one good possibility for others to build on.

This Is Not Partisan

2276.us is nonpartisan by design. Maybe transpartisan is the better word.

It is not built on the assumption that one side of the country has all the answers and the other side is the obstacle to the future. That assumption is part of what has brought us here. The project begins from a different premise: everyone who intends to remain part of a shared American future has a stake in imagining what that future could become.

That does not mean our differences are small. They are not. It does not mean all ideas are equally wise, humane, or democratic. They are not. It does not mean pretending away injustice, power, history, or harm. We cannot.

It means refusing to let our differences prevent us from asking a deeper question: what kinds of democratic foundations could help a free, pluralistic society hold real difference without breaking itself apart?

If everyone is affected by the future, then everyone has some place in the work of imagining it. And the way we imagine together already shapes the kind of future we are creating.

A Small Contribution to a Much Larger Field

This project is not emerging in isolation. There are already people and organizations working to stretch democratic imagination beyond the next election cycle. Some are looking toward 2050. Some are looking toward 2076, the country’s 300th anniversary. Some are focused on America’s 250th and asking what this milestone should mean. Some are building new tools for dialogue, deliberation, civic education, democratic innovation, local participation, institutional reform, and cultural repair.

2276.us is one small contribution to that larger field. Its particular offering is the 500-year arc:

1776 → 2026 → 2276

A way of remembering that we are not only inheritors of a past. We are ancestors of a future. And whether we like it or not, we are leaving something behind.

The question is whether we will do so consciously.

An Invitation

So here is my invitation for this Fourth of July.

Go to 2276.us. Explore the archive, and contribute a vision or principle that might guide us into the next 250.

It does not have to be perfect. It does not have to be comprehensive. It does not have to solve America. It does not have to sound like policy. It does not have to predict the future.

It only has to offer something worth preserving: a principle, a story, a redesigned institution, a civic ritual, a speculative history, a question future generations might thank us for asking, or a value we may not yet know how to live into.

And then share it with someone else. Someone who is tired of doom. Someone who is frustrated but not ready to give up. Someone who loves this country, or wants to, or is angry because it has not yet become what it promised to be.

And if you have ideas for what this project could become, leave a comment or reach out. I am launching it as a seed, not a finished institution.

We have 250 years to develop it.

Kidding.

Mostly.

Share

This weekend in Philadelphia I attended the Braver Angels Convention where Reds and Blues from across the country debated whether we are living up to the Founders’ vision, crafted civic visions together, and recommitted ourselves to one another and to our country. The convention’s theme was A Pledge Renewed, drawn from the Declaration’s final line: “we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

At one point, we sang a modified version of “From Now On” from The Greatest Showman. I cried harder than I expected. For a moment, the idea at the center of this essay became real: this American experiment is worth fighting for, and it has always depended on whether we are willing to remain bound to one another long enough to make it work.

The question is not only whether we still believe in America. It is whether we still believe in each other enough to continue the experiment.

250 Years

So here we are.

The United States is approaching it’s 250^th birthday, the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. There are plenty of ways to meet this moment. You can celebrate. You can protest. You can grieve, critique, commemorate, ignore, or actively anti-celebrate. You can feel proud of the country, furious with it, frightened for it, sad for it, alienated from it, or several of those things at once like me.

Whatever your relationship to the anniversary, this moment matters. It’s an opportunity to reflect where we are, how we got here and recommit to each other to continue this American project into the future. Recommitment and clarity will be necessary, because the odds are stacked against our success.

Based on his study of a wide range of past civilizations, Glubb identified a recurring pattern: great powers often lasted roughly 250 years, or about ten generations. He described their final stage as one marked by intensifying internal political hatred, pessimism, materialism, defensiveness, declining public duty, and an increasingly fragile economic order built on debt, consumption, and the assumption that prosperity will continue indefinitely.

Some of Glubb’s conclusions are dated, and I do not treat his theory as a law of history. But the specificity is what haunts me. A society growing richer while becoming less capable of sacrifice. Public life turning toward spectacle. Political factions becoming more vicious as the country becomes more vulnerable. An economic house of cards maintained because no one can imagine what happens when the assumptions underneath it fail.

I recognize enough of that pattern to feel afraid.

And the flashing warning lights are not exactly subtle.

People across the political spectrum believe the country is in serious trouble. We disagree about the causes, the villains, and the solutions, but dissatisfaction is everywhere. People feel unrepresented, manipulated, economically squeezed, culturally displaced, and increasingly doubtful that the systems governing our collective lives are capable of handling what comes next.

The thing that scares me most, is that collectively we seem to believe two contradictory things at once:

The thing that scares me most is that collectively we seem to believe two contradictory things at once:

1. The current system is not working and cannot continue like this.

2. Nothing fundamentally different is possible because this is the best we can do.

As I’ve said before, there is a third possibility: the system can be improved, and it is up to us to make that happen.

Fortunately, we do not need to redesign the whole country overnight. We do not yet need to believe we can solve everything.

We only need to do what the founders did first.

We need to make a declaration:

This Has Happened Before

The conditions of 2026 are obviously not the conditions of 1776. But we can recognize the frustrations of the people living in the colonies before the Revolution, because some of them resemble our own.

They believed they were governed by people and institutions that are far away, out of touch and not adequately representing them. They objected to taxation and tariffs, military decisions, and being dragged into conflicts they did not control. The saw judges controlled by the king and interference in elections. They petitioned, argued, organized, resisted, and tried to repair the relationship, but their government refused to hear them.

The Declaration of Independence came after years of accumulating grievances and failed attempts at redress.

And when it came, its basic structure was remarkably simple.

The Declaration named values and claimed rights that do not come from government. It claimed that government exists to secure those rights. It claimed that legitimate power comes from the consent of the governed. Then it listed grievances showing how the existing government had violated those principles.

It said that the situation had crossed a threshold; it could no longer continue.

Finally, it closed with a mutual pledge to support the declaration and accept the risks that followed.

That was the Declaration.

The design came later.

The new nation spent thirteen years experimenting before the Constitution took effect in 1789. Even then, the system had not yet proven that it could survive genuine partisan conflict. That test came in 1800, when power transferred from one political faction to another through an election rather than violence.

So the revolution was not one clean event. It was a process:

Declaration.
Design.
Implementation and iteration.

It took roughly a quarter-century.

That is good news.

It means we do not need to agree yet what the country should look like in 2050, much less 2276. We don’t need do fully redesign the operating system, YET. Before we can do any of that we need become clear about what we believe and declare that it’s worth fighting for.

It Is Time for a New Declaration

The declaration we need to make will not be a declaration of separation from a foreign king.

Our problem is not that some external ruler governs us without consideration. It’s that it feels that way with our own government.

The systems we have built are no longer adequately serving the people they supposedly represent, and the declaration itself says, “…whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”

So what would a new declaration need?

At minimum:

• a people speaking;

• an audience being addressed;

• values being affirmed;

• grievances being named;

• and a pledge binding the signers to one another.

Who Is Speaking? To Whom?

Our new declaration need to come from the United People of the United States of America. It cannot come from Democrats or Republicans, nor people who believe America was once perfect nor people who believe it was corrupt from the beginning. Instead, our declaration comes from those of us who intend to remain part of a shared political future. This is for all of us who want to leave a legacy we can feel proud of to future generations.

I think that our new declaration ought to be addressed to our governments at every level, our political parties, our media systems, the corporations, lobbyists and institutions that depend on our votes, money, labor, and attention.

And the declaration will also be to one another, uniting us in our commitment to build a better future together.

What Would We Declare?

We might want to restate some of the original values:

• that all people are created equal;

• that we possess unalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness;

• that governments exist to secure those rights;

• and that their just powers derive from the consent of the governed (they work for us, at our discretion).

And perhaps it would add a few truths the last 250 years have taught us:

• that people deserve a meaningful voice in the decisions shaping their lives;

• that no party, government, corporation, media system, or concentrated interest should dominate the rest of us;

• and that disagreement should not disqualify anyone from belonging to the political community.

We would then name the widening gap between those values and our present reality: politicians who claim to represent us while leaving millions unheard, institutions that profit from division, political processes that reduce complex questions to winner-take-all contests, and a public sphere increasingly organized around extracting our votes, money, outrage, and attention.

At some point, the people have the right and duty to alter a government that now no longer serves us. We don’t need to agree about everything the government should do, but I think we can agree that it should work and that it works for us.

We do not need to agree about everything government should do. But surely we can agree that it should work, that it should work for us, and that when it repeatedly fails to do so, the people have the right to say: Get your shit together.

What Would We Pledge?

The Declaration of Independence ended with a pledge: “we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

That final line reveals something easy to miss. American independence required a commitment to interdependence from the beginning. The colonies could only separate from Britain by committing themselves to one another.

Interdependence is not the opposite of independence. It is the recognition that independent people still share institutions, consequences, and a future. Our task is to decide whether we are willing to remain united across our differences, refuse their endless exploitation, and accept some responsibility for making this experiment work.

This weekend, Braver Angels offered one place to begin:

“I pledge to be a Courageous Citizen: to choose curious listening over contempt; to build alongside those with different politics; and to embrace our shared duty to renew America’s civic culture.”

You can join me in signing the Courageous Citizen Pledge.

We are not being asked to go to war. But democratic renewal will still require courage and discomfort. We may have to speak with people we have learned to avoid, listen to arguments we dislike, acknowledge our own participation in the problem, and occasionally change our minds.

America at 500

The United States will turn 500 in 2276.

That date feels almost absurdly distant. We cannot imagine its technologies, crises, institutions, or culture any more clearly than the people of 1776 could have imagined ours. But they did not need to predict the future. They created a constitutional framework that later generations could amend, interpret, and improve.

Their achievement was not building a system that would remain unchanged for 250 years. It was building one capable of surviving change.

No one seriously believes we can white-knuckle our current system through another 250 years exactly as it is. Continuity will require transformation.

America once helped demonstrate that a brand new idea (constitutional self-government) was possible. If we can now learn how to renew a divided democracy without abandoning it, we may again offer the world something it urgently needs: not less democracy in response to democratic failure, but a more capable democracy that can hold complexity.

The question is not whether we can design a perfect system for 2276. It is whether we can recommit ourselves to developing a democracy that can learn, adapt, and remain accountable through whatever comes next.

We do not have to solve all of that now. The founders did not begin with the Constitution.

They began with a declaration.

I happen to own 2276.us, and I’m building it as a place where we can begin that work together. Not a prediction of the future, but an invitation into it — a growing, nonpartisan archive where anyone can name the principles that should guide the next American chapter, imagine what a new declaration might contain, and picture the kinds of democratic design that could carry the experiment all the way to its 500th anniversary. None of us has to hold the whole answer. We only have to be willing to imagine it alongside people we don’t already agree with.

What Would It Actually Mean to Make America Great Again?

After this weekend in Philadelphia, I feel more committed than ever to asking this question seriously: what would it actually take to make America great again?

We can affirm that something historically great began here 250 years ago without pretending it was perfect. A people declared that government must answer to human equality, rights, and consent, then began the difficult work of building institutions around those principles. We must also be honest about where America betrayed those ideals, why so many people no longer experience the country or its government as great, and whether the next form of American greatness will look anything like the last.

Before we can design that future, we have to decide that we still want to build one together. We have to remain a people, declare what our government is for, name where it is failing, and pledge ourselves to the uncomfortable work of listening, learning, changing, and acting across our differences.

Two hundred and fifty years ago, Americans declared their independence. Perhaps the next chapter begins when the united people of the United States declare their interdependence.

We belong to one another. And the future is still ours to build.

I’ve been traveling the country (and Zoom-world), listening deeply to folks across the democracy movement of movements: organizers, bridge-builders, civic tech innovators, and people building participatory democracy for all of us. That listening has shaped two major projects that are now coming into bloom:

1. a nationwide Democracy Learning Series

2. a growing local democracy effort here in my neighborhood, Oakland and the East Bay.

And underneath it all is the slow-growing, long-haul work of building a truly Omni-Win democracy—one rooted in participation, care, inclusion, and collective power.

Here’s how it all connects…

The Democracy Resource Hub Learning Series

Organizing. Bridging. Participatory Governance.

In my role as steward of the Democracy Resource Hub—a project of the SHIFT Action Lab—I spent this year talking with dozens of practitioners and civic innovators across the country.

What I heard again and again: we need better tools to work across our silos. We need real skills to collaborate across difference. And we need to move from conversation to coordination to action.

So I've curated a 10-part learning series, built to respond to what I heard. It’s a sampler pack of practical tools from the worlds of organizing, bridge-building, and participatory democracy—designed to be accessible, inspiring, and immediately useful.

🗓 Next up:

Facilitation 101 – Introduction to Dialogue & Deliberation

with Keiva Hummel (Executive Director, NCDD)
📅 Tuesday, December 16th
👉 Click here to register for Facilitation 101

This session is perfect for anyone who’s curious about facilitation, community conversations, or holding space across divides.

🌀 Each session in the series explores a different part of the civic change cycle: how we invite people in, build connection, share power, and take action. You can join one or all. No prior experience needed.

🎓 Check out and sign up for the full lineup here: LearnDemocracy.online

🌿 Local Democracy Is Taking Root

Over the past two years, I’ve been helping build a local democracy model here in my neighborhood in Oakland—supporting neighbors in building trust, listening to each other, identifying shared needs, and taking real action.

This “neighborhood first” approach (which I described in my last article, The Strangler Fig Theory: Growing Democracy from the Roots Up) is now expanding with the support of Better Together America, and gaining momentum across the East Bay.

And next year, I’m exploring the idea of offering a training for folks who want to bring this model to their own communities.

✨ Interested in learning how to do this where you live?
Let me know here.

💛 Supporting This Work

This Substack is one part of a much larger effort:
I’m listening, weaving, designing, writing, facilitating, and working every day to grow the democracy we need—one that actually works for everyone.

If you’ve ever thought about becoming a paid subscriber, now’s a great time. It’s a meaningful way to support this work—and every bit helps me keep going, growing, and sharing.

👉 Become a paid subscriber here

Subscribe now

🎙 Curious to explore more?
While I haven’t posted new episodes or videos in a while, there’s a ton of timeless content on my Omni-Win Project podcast and YouTube channel. The topics are just as relevant now—and they offer a deeper dive into the ideas, stories, and conversations that shape all of this work.

There’s a lot more coming soon.

🙌 Let’s Keep Building

Thanks for reading, and for being part of this ecosystem of democracy and transformation. I truly believe this work is most powerful when it’s shared—and that the future we long for is only possible when we all show up, together.

Let me know what resonates.
Tell me what you’re working on.
And stay tuned—we’ve got a long journey ahead of us.

I. The Fig and the Falling Tree

In tropical forests, strangler figs begin life as seeds dropped by birds into the crevices of a palm or other tree. Not just one, but often hundreds may begin to grow. Each sends roots downward through the air toward the soil and shoots upward toward the light. Once they reach the soil they grow in earnest, wrapping the host in a dense and living lattice. Over time, the many roots and branches fuse into a single organism, many becoming one. Together, these figs form a new, composite trunk that holds up the canopy even as it transforms what came before. Eventually they consume all the light and replace the host tree.

Our political system is much like that aging host tree—rotten, unstable, and yet still standing. Gridlocked, mistrusted, and crumbling under elite consolidation and eroded norms. Citizens feel alienated. But alongside its failing structure, new roots are descending. Across the country, citizens are cultivating forms of participatory democracy and collaborative structures that can sustain our civic canopy while a new democratic organism takes hold. This is not about saving the old tree from decay; it’s about building something, something rooted in participation, inclusion, and collective care.

II. A Movement of Movements Turns Local

I work within a nation-wide movement of movements, a growing ecosystem dedicated to healing democracy and creating a thriving together future. Across the country, organizers, bridge-builders, and governance innovators are discovering that democracy only matters where people actually live. Real change must take root in neighborhoods, towns, and cities, where trust can grow face-to-face, and where civic capacity can be practiced daily. As authoritarian narratives rise and democratic norms erode under pressure, this local turn is not just strategic—it’s essential. This turn toward the local isn’t a retreat from national crises; it’s the only terrain where resilience can regenerate.

III. Why Local Democracy in a Time of Collapse

Our national political system is failing under its own weight. Polarization has hardened into paralysis. Public trust in government has cratered. Partisan power plays now threaten pluralism itself, tightening control while public trust collapses.

Yet even as the federal structure fractures, local communities remain the places where democracy can still function. When the center cannot hold, the periphery must regenerate. Building local civic capacity may seem small in the face of national crisis, but it is precisely the antidote to despair; creating visible, relational systems of agency and care is the solution. The fig grows because it can still catch sunlight and rain; our neighborhoods can do the same for democracy. National collapse is not a reason to give up on democracy—it’s a reason to root it deeper.

IV. The Practitioner’s Dilemma — Process vs. Outcome

Through my work interviewing civic innovators across the country, I’ve seen both the promise and the tension in this new wave of participatory projects. Nonpartisan national networks are forming around “citizen-led solutions” and “place-based civic hubs.” Projects from West Virginia and Ohio to Colorado and Oakland are discovering that people love the idea of collaboration but struggle to sustain it. The same challenges surface again and again: how to invite people in, how to choose what issue to work on, and how to turn solutions into tangible action. So they are turning to the skilled organizers who know how to bring people together to get real work done.

There are tensions here to be overcome. Organizers, trained to deliver results, find process-heavy approaches slow and uncertain. They struggle to be fully inclusive and expect resistance. Bridgers, accustomed to collaboration and facilitation, fear that urgency and advocacy can erode inclusivity. Governance innovators design elegant systems for collective decision-making but often lack the grassroots energy to make them real. But amid institutional collapse and creeping authoritarianism, the stakes are rising. This isn’t just about optimizing process. It’s about whether we’ll still have the space to practice democracy at all. Together they illuminate an old dilemma: Is democracy a process or an outcome? Do we prioritize efficiency or sustainability, quick wins or deep roots? These tensions define the experiment we are living.

V. The Strangler Fig Theory of Change

The strangler fig offers an ecological lens for this paradox. In the wild, it’s not just one fig that overtakes a host, but many (dozens or even hundreds) germinate in the same massive tree, their roots intertwining until they form a single, living organism. Each local democratic experiment is like one of these seeds, merging with others into a confederated whole capable of sustaining a new civic structure.

At first, the roots act as scaffolding, helping the old tree stand by channeling strength from below. But as they deepen and connect, they begin to carry more of the system’s weight, eventually forming a living lattice of participation that outlasts the brittle trunk of the old order. This is what philosopher Murray Bookchin envisioned in his municipalism, citizens forming self-governing assemblies that federate upward. The strangler fig theory is a natural evolution of that idea: an organic, fractal democracy that grows quietly, strengthening the system even as it transforms it.

VI. Living Examples — Oakland and Beyond

In Oakland’s Temescal neighborhood, I reimagined a standard Neighborhood Council as a living model of participatory democracy. Instead of top-down meetings focused on police reports, residents co-created community priorities through a cycle of digital participation, dialogue, and action.

Using an open-source digital dialogue tool called Polis, we asked: “What makes Temescal a great place to live, and how can it be improved?” Hundreds of residents contributed statements and votes, mapping areas of consensus and divergence. The data revealed shared hopes that cut across divides: safety, cleanliness, green space, and belonging.

We brought the results back to a community dialogue, where neighbors turned agreement into action—organizing clean-ups, a tree-planting Green Team, and local art events. Each cycle built more trust, and soon, participation became habit. Democracy became visible and relational again. In a time when many feel politics is either captured or corrupt, making democracy visible at the community level restores belief that collective agency is possible.

Similar projects are taking root nationwide. From civic assemblies in cities and towns to national networks of citizen-led dialogue projects, hundreds of seeds are taking root. Each one begins as a seed within the canopy of our current system, an experiment that makes the vision of democracy tangible in the everyday.

These aren’t pilot projects—they’re prototypes. They model the future, not just test it. They are living blueprints for a new way to share power.

VII. Democracy as a Living Practice

Democracy is not a mechanism we inherit; it is a living system we sustain. Like any living organism, it depends on the vitality of its relationships. When we withdraw from those relationships, the system begins to decay, its feedback loops broken, its responsiveness lost. To keep democracy alive, we must engage it continuously, not as a machine that serves us, but as a body we inhabit.

Fractal democracy recognizes that governance must be scaled intimacy—proximity sustained at every level of complexity. It echoes the principle embedded in the original Constitution: that legitimacy grows from closeness.1 As population and complexity expand, the pattern repeats—small, deliberative bodies reflecting the will of the people upward through nested consent. Each community, like each cell in a larger organism, senses and responds to its environment, shaping the health of the whole. Representation, in this light, isn’t a transfer of authority upward. By giving everyone a voice for the issues that impact their lives, it’s the circulation of agency throughout the system.

When we act locally with awareness of the whole, when our neighborhoods, councils, and assemblies coordinate like interdependent cells, democracy becomes self-aware again. It learns, heals, and evolves as we do. This is what authoritarianism cannot replicate: the intelligence of relationship, the coherence of shared purpose, and the renewal born of participation. Democracy is not something we protect, it is something we regenerate together.

Authoritarianism reduces democracy to compliance. But a regenerative fractal democracy remembers: governance is not what we obey, it’s what we become together.

VIII. Growing the New Tree — An Invitation

We don’t need permission to begin. The path forward starts wherever you live. Invite your neighbors to a potluck or a community meeting and ask: What do you love about this place, and how could it be better? Listen deeply. Use simple tools to find common ground and make decisions together. Learn how to host dialogues, share stories, facilitate meetings, and practice shared leadership. Explore civic technologies that help communities deliberate, build consensus, and act collectively. These are the roots of democratic capacity, and anyone can begin growing them.

Our national system is rotting, unstable, and losing its integrity. But that decay creates the opportunity for something new to take hold. By building our capacity for shared decision-making where we live, we begin to grow the new tree around the old one. Each neighborhood, town, and community that learns to govern itself becomes another fig in the lattice, a living strand in the democracy that will one day replace the brittle trunk of the old order.

We don’t need to wait. We just need to begin. Let’s root the future of democracy right where we stand.

Notes

I’ve been thinking a lot about how we live together in this country —
how we listen, how we don’t,
and how easy it is to forget that we actually belong to one another.

So I want to share this dream with you.
Not because it explains anything about our current reality,
but because I think a story of hope would be welcome these days.

Act I - The Meeting

It started when Donald Trump read one of my Omni-Win Project Substack articles — something about how people see the world differently.
Somehow it reached him.
Somehow it sparked something in him.
And somehow, he reached out.

He said he wanted to understand.
And so we met — at a café by a park, sunlight filtering through the trees, the smell of coffee and cut grass drifting together.

He was curious, like a man who’d found a puzzle piece that didn’t fit.
We talked. He listened — really listened — the way you do when you’re trying to remember something long forgotten.

I told him that every one of us builds our world out of our own unique worldviews and stories — These worldviews helps us understand about what’s right and wrong, safe and dangerous, possible and impossible.
He nodded, thoughtful, curious.

We then left the café and to walk beneath the trees. The light was shifting, gold to green. The wind blew softly, like the world was listening too.
As we walked, we talked about what it would mean to bring those different storytellers together — people who might never sit at the same table, but whose voices together might sound a little like the full truth.

So we decided to try.
Not a debate. Not a summit. Just a gathering.
A picnic by the river.

I reached out to nine people, each with their own story, their own way of seeing.
And Donald (he let me call him that) said he’d come to listen.

Act II – The River Gathering

The first gathering was by a river.
We found a stretch of smooth stones where the current slowed just enough to hear each other over the water.
Eleven of us in all — nine Americans, Donald, who came only to listen, and myself

No speeches. No arguments.
Each person was given an uninterrupted opportunity to answer a simple prompt:
“Tell us a story from your life that helps us understand what this country means to you.”

The Farmer went first — early thirties, sun tanned arms, a ball cap that had seen many seasons.

“My family’s worked the same dirt for a hundred years,” he said. “The crops are thinner, the town’s emptier, and sometimes I think the pride left before the people did. We believe in this country; now it feels like it stopped believing in us.”

The Young Student, maybe nineteen, mixed-race, wearing headphones around their neck, spoke next.

“I’ve been hearing the world’s ending since I was a kid,” they said. “I don’t see any leaders worth trusting. How should I care about a future if no one else seems to?”

A Veteran, late seventies, silver crew cut, his jacket covered in old patches, spoke next with a voice that still knew command.

“I signed a blank check for this country; it included my life if needed. I’d do it again. But it hurts to think people don’t even remember what America stands for.”

Then it turned to The Scientist, a Black woman in her forties with careful eyes and hands that kept tracing invisible equations on her knee.

“When I was ten, I built a telescope out of paper towel tubes. I believed and still believe that human innovation, curiosity and discovery can solve anything. But lately I wonder if we still believe in our own capacity to understand, when respect for facts seems discretionary.”

The Economist spoke up next. Mid-fifties, crisp shirt, gold watch, a man who measures comfort in decimals.

“I built my career—like we built this country—on growth, investment, and the belief that markets reward those who earn it. But lately I’ve been wondering if we’re measuring the right things. The stock market’s up, but so is anxiety. What if prosperity isn’t just profit, but how secure people feel in their lives?”

After that we heard from a deeply Religious Woman, sixties, silver hair pulled back, soft Southern accent.

“I used to bake casseroles every Sunday for church. Now half the pews are empty. We lived our values virtue, humility, compassion, and I’m afraid we’ve lost track of them.”

With a nod the Small Business Owner spoke up next. In his forties, a slight Middle Eastern accent softened by decades of practice, grease on his apron from the café he runs downtown.

“I came here with nothing and built something with my hands. I still believe in the American Dream, and I’m proud to be a citizen now. I just wish we remembered that dreams are meant to be shared.”

Then a School Teacher chimed in. She was in her early thirties, freckles, a laugh that shows up before her words, and an optimism still unscathed.

“Every day my students ask what the world will be like when they grow up. I tell them it depends on each of them, and how well we learn to listen.”

The circle closed as we heard from the Indigenous Elder in the group. Wrinkled skin, a long grey braid, and eyes like river water.

“I was raised on stories older than this country — stories that teach us that land is a relative, not a resource. I’ve watched rivers dry and forests burn, and still people act like the earth is just dirt beneath their feet. But this land remembers everything. And if we forget to honor it, it will stop holding us.”

When she finished, the river went on speaking.
Donald looked at each of them, eyes soft and wide almost childlike.

“That was… beautiful,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know people loved this country like this. Thank you.”

We sat in that silence until he whispered,
“Let’s meet again — next time to talk about the future we want.”
Everyone nodded.

Act III - The Tree Gathering

A few weeks later, we met again.
This time under a great, sprawling oak tree, roots thick as benches, branches reaching wide enough to hold us all.

We brought blankets and fruit and thermoses of coffee. The air smelled like late summer, like something ending and something beginning.

We sat amongst the roots some in the branches of the tree and I asked,
“What’s a dream you have for this country?”

The Farmer spoke first again.

“I just want my kids to believe their future is still worth working for,” he said. “I want to feel proud when I see a flag waving over my field again — not angry, not forgotten. Just proud.”

The Young Student sat cross-legged in the nook of a great branch.

“I dream of a future that’s not collapsing,” they said. “Where people don’t roll their eyes when you talk about hope. Where we can imagine something better and not be mocked for it.”

The Veteran took a long breath, his eyes distant.

“I dream of a country that remembers its promises,” he said. “Not perfect, but honorable. Where people stand up for each other the way we used to.”

The Scientist smiled softly.

“I dream of discovery,” she said. “Of investing in curiosity again. I want kids who look through microscopes and telescopes and believe they can make a difference, that truth can be found”

The Economist leaned back against the roots.

“I dream of a country where wealth means more than numbers. Where prosperity is measured by shared stability, and success means we’ve all got a stake in the future.”

The Religious Woman clasped her hands.

“I dream of grace,” she said. “Of families and neighbors forgiving each other. Of a nation that remembers virtue not as rules, but as love in action.”

The Small Business Owner nodded.

“I dream of earning a good life and helping others earn theirs too,” he said. “I don’t need handouts, just fairness — a country that rewards honesty and effort.”

The School Teacher looked up through the leaves.

“I dream of classrooms full of kids who feel safe to imagine their futures,” she said. “Where learning is joy again, not fear.”

The Indigenous Elder ran her fingers over the bark beside her.

“My dream,” she said, “I dream of a country that listens to the land like it listens to its people. Where we stop treating nature like a backdrop and start seeing it as a partner in our future.”

The breeze moved through the branches, scattering light like gold dust.
No one rushed to fill the silence.

Then Donald, who’d been quiet again, cleared his throat.
He looked up at the leaves and said softly,

“You know… I think this is what greatness really feels like.”

No one laughed.
He just sat there, looking around the circle, and for a moment he seemed almost weightless — like a man who’d been carrying something heavy and finally set it down.

The tree above us creaked in the wind, and the whole country seemed to breathe with it.

Dream’s Closing

When I woke up, the sound of the river was still in my ears,
and the branches of that old tree kept swaying behind my eyelids.

It felt fragile — that circle, that listening —
like something the world could forget again by morning.

I don’t know what it means, exactly.
Maybe it was just a dream about impossible conversations.

But impossible conversations are where all transformation begins.
Or maybe it was a reminder that the country we imagine
is built, moment by moment, in how we hear each other.

Either way, it felt important to share.
Because for a little while, even in a dream,
we remembered how to listen.

The details are still settling—who pulled the trigger, what their motive was, how they crossed the perimeter of yet another university auditorium turned battleground. But in a culture defined by spectacle and tribal rage, the details may not matter. The meaning is already metastasizing.

Some are celebrating. Others are calling for vengeance. The headlines are already polarizing into competing myths. And beneath all of it—beneath the tweets and eulogies and talking points—an ancient and dangerous algorithm is running.

The real danger is not the act itself, but the algorithm it awakens in all of us.

The Recursive Code That's Killing Us

The real threat we face is not a political ideology. It’s not “the Left” or “the Right.” It’s not Trump or Biden, socialism or capitalism, wokeness or authoritarianism. The threat is older, deeper, and far more viral.

It is the belief that the world is neatly divided between Good and Evil.
And alongside it, the belief that the world is divided into Us and Them.

These two illusions—moral absolutism and social tribalism—get merged into one deadly formula: Good Guys vs. Bad Guys.

And of course…

“We are the good guys. They are the bad guys.”

This isn’t just a cognitive glitch—it’s a recursive moral operating system. It loops through media cycles, movement narratives, social identities, and personal relationships.

As Alexander Solzhenitsyn warned:

“If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”

His insight: the truly dangerous loop isn’t just in what others believe, but what we assume of ourselves, and how we view our own ability to fracture. Moral absolutism asks us to ignore that line within. Dehumanization demands we pretend it doesn’t exist.

This cultural code infects how we punish, how we protest, how we parent. It’s in our schools, our courtrooms, our comment sections. And worst of all: it feels righteous. It feels good. It offers the rush of certainty, the clarity of side-taking, the ecstasy of blame.

But it does not heal.
It does not reconcile.
And it cannot end—because it is recursive.

Every accusation becomes proof of guilt. Every act of harm becomes a justified defense. Every attempt to step outside the binary becomes betrayal.

The Spark and the Loop

We’ve seen this before—how a single moment of violence becomes a mythic event: a martyr or a monster, a symbol to rally around, or a curse to avenge. The assassination of a public figure isn’t just a tragedy. In a polarized culture, it becomes a temptation—to retaliate, to dehumanize, to escalate.

A temptation to double down.
To prove loyalty.
To demand purity.
To attack first—just in case.

And this is where the danger lies. Not in the act itself, but in what follows. The loop accelerates. The algorithm feeds on itself.

“Blaming one side or blaming the other in kind of like sweepingly violent ways… lowers the human inhibitions to committing [violence],” said reporter Alan Feuer on The Daily. “It creates an environment… that increasingly encourages people to act.”

This is how moral certainty becomes a vector for harm.
It doesn't take a majority of violent people. It just takes the right story, at the right emotional pitch, to lower the threshold.

And this is where the illusion takes hold:

“They started it.”
“They deserved it.”
“We’re just defending ourselves.”
“They are beyond redemption.”

The next time a left-wing figure is attacked, the pattern will repeat—faster, harder, more predictably. Side will call to side. Family will turn against family. Communities will fracture into mirror-image crusades. And in the end, no one will remember who fired first.

Because it won’t matter.

There Are No Front Lines—Only Fault Lines

Here is the real risk. Not civil war in the traditional sense.
Something worse.
Something more intimate.

A moral virus that infects every human relationship.

If we divide the world into Left and Right—and equate those identities with good and evil—then every neighborhood becomes a battlefield. Every dinner table becomes a front line. Every disagreement becomes a threat. Every failure to signal allegiance becomes complicity.

This is not hypothetical.
This is how it starts.

And this is what some are now wondering—is this it?
Was this the spark?

You can feel the tension in the silence. The horror beneath the headlines.
Not just that someone was killed—but that everyone knows how easily it could happen again.

And yet, beneath that horror, something else stirs: delight.
The thrill of justice. The dopamine of spectacle. The tribal pleasure of winning.

This is the true nightmare.
That the monster we fear is also the one we enjoy.

The Woodchipper Circus

We live in a world where outrage is currency and cruelty is content.
Where politics is theater, and righteousness is a brand.

And we are all complicit. Not because we are evil, but because we inherited a code we didn’t even know was running. And we keep feeding it—through our clicks, our comments, our silences.

This is not a condemnation. It is a diagnosis.
Because the system we are caught in—the algorithm of division and dopamine—was not designed to heal.

It was designed to reward certainty over complexity,
purity over curiosity,
and side-taking over soul-searching.

If we do not rewrite that code, it will continue to run—until it consumes everything.

This is the future that cannot be allowed.

The Only Way Out

The alternative is not utopia. It is not consensus. It is not holding hands and singing songs.
It is something far more difficult.

It is moral discipline.

It is the choice to see each other as human—even when it hurts.
It is the courage to seek understanding—even when we’re right.
It is the skill of living in complexity—without collapsing into relativism.
It is the work of building systems that allow for repair, not just punishment.

And it begins with one shift in the moral algorithm:

From “good vs evil” to “better vs worse.”
From “us vs them” to “shared fate.”
From absolute judgment to contextual discernment.

This is not weakness.
It is the only path strong enough to hold a world as wounded as ours.

A Call to Vow

If you’re reading this and something in you is recoiling—good.
It means you’re still human.
It means the horror still registers.

Now we must make sure it outweighs the temptation.

Because the spectacle is seductive. The Woodchipper Circus is calling. And if we give in to the thrill of dehumanizing each other—if we make this moment just another round of partisan escalation—we will not get a second chance.

So let this not be prophecy.
Let it be warning.
And let our response be a vow:

That we will resist the algorithm of blame.
That we will refuse the illusions of the binary.
That we will remember—not just who we lost, but who we still are.

Because the real apocalypse isn’t coming.
It’s running.
And only we can stop it.

Charlie Kirk once said,

“That’s what’s so important to our country, is to find disagreements respectfully, because when people stop talking, that’s when violence happens.”

Let’s prove him right—by talking, listening, and remembering that even now, we still have a choice.

You’re invited: Introducing Block / Bridge / Build / Belong
A Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy Forum
Thursday, September 4 •
1pm ET / 10am PT • 90 minutes (+bonus time)
Register Here

If you’re new to it, Block / Bridge / Build / Belong is a clear map of the democracy ecosystem—four complementary modes that help us act together without demanding we all act the same. These aren’t phases; they run in parallel, sometimes in tension, and work best in relationship.

Block — prevent harm, defend norms, uphold rights.
Bridge — reduce heat, increase understanding, connect across difference.
Build — co-create better systems, policies, and practices.
Belong — the culture that keeps people in the work: everyone seen, valued, and part of the whole.
Note: “Belong” was added by Thriving Together US—read more in their piece here.

Why this matters now

Urgent protection and long-term redesign live on different clocks. The work is to coordinate across clocks, not collapse them—so that blocking, bridging, building, and belonging reinforce one another. Not everyone has to do everything; what matters is seeing (and supporting) the whole.

Forum Details

Forum: Framing the Democracy Movement through Block / Bridge / Build / Belong
Date/Time: Thursday, September 4 • 1pm ET / 12pm CT / 11am MT / 10am PT (90 minutes)
Register: https://us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/4HymRWpXROKZyxaumBtLDg

What to expect

• A concise primer on how Block / Bridge / Build / Belong work together (dimensions, not phases)

• Spotlight mini-talks (names announced soon)

• Breakouts to map where your work fits—and where collaboration can deepen

• Large-group reflections to surface themes and next steps

Ways to plug in (beyond this forum)

Join the Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy (PMD)
Help mobilize mediators, facilitators, and dialogue leaders for democracy work. Occasional updates, mobilization invites, and collaboration opportunities across Block / Bridge / Build / Belong.
Sign up Here

Join our BUILD Community of Practice
A monthly space to reflect, learn, and grow in this work with fellow practitioners. Next session: Thursday, August 14. We meet every second Thursday, including September 11.
Sign up here.

References & further reading

• Julia Roig, “Block, Bridge, and Build: A Framework to Forge a More Democratic Future”

Thriving Together US

Belonging Without Othering: How We Build a Bigger 'We'

At a time when the forces of division are accelerating, the need to build a broader, more inclusive "We" has never felt more urgent. That was the animating spirit behind the 22nd Century Initiative's 2025 conference, themed "Building a Bigger We," and its core framework: Block, Bridge, Build…

Read more

a year ago · 1 like · Duncan Autrey

Thriving Together US

What Happens When We Build, Bridge, Block—and Belong?

There’s no single playbook for healing democracy or renewing civic life. But there is a growing framework that’s helping people across sectors take action with clarity and care…

Read more

a year ago · Duncan Autrey

PS: Want to stay in the loop about future forums and opportunities to strengthen democracy through your practice? Sign up for the PMD list for occasional updates and event invites.

But what does a trillion even mean?

Back in November 2021, I recorded a video to help people wrap their heads around this kind of number—by comparing dollars to something we can all relate to: time. The metaphor still holds up, even if the video quality doesn’t (it’s low-fi, but the content’s solid!).

In 2021, the U.S. national debt was around $29 trillion.
As of July 2025, it’s over $37 trillion.
That’s already over $7 trillion in new debt in less than four years.

As we throw numbers like three or five trillion around, it helps to feel the scale. This short essay and video are meant to do just that.

Let’s take a moment to ground ourselves in the math behind today’s headlines.

There’s a lot of talk about trillions in spending and debt, but it’s a number we can’t really comprehend. Putting a trillion into numbers that we understand is an excellent way to put it into context. So, we’re going to be comparing a trillion to time. A trillion seconds in years is mind-boggling, and you can find out what it is in my video below! I’ve also included a transcript if you’re unable to watch the video at the moment.

Hi! I want to talk a little bit about what it means for something to be a trillion. Now, trillion is a word that we hear a lot lately. Spending bills, that's one and a half trillion, two and a half trillion, three and a half trillion. The US debt is pushing 29 trillion. And what does that mean?

What does that mean, for something to be a trillion? So, I'm going to share this because some friends were saying that this is useful information that people might like.

How Much is a Trillion?

So, let's think about it this way. Think about how long a second is.

1 second: there it just happened.
Now, a thousand seconds; it's about 16 and a half minutes.

Now, when we go to a thousand to a million, to a billion, to a trillion, we just multiply it by a thousand each time.
So, a million seconds, it's about 11 and a half days, about the length of a solid vacation.
A billion seconds is about 31 and a half years.
That means, a trillion seconds is 31,000 years.

Feel into that.

When we're talking about these numbers in casual terms. I think it's worthwhile to pay attention to this. When people are feeling concerned about how much spending is being done, understanding what it means for something to be 1 trillion, 2 trillion or 5 trillion is really helpful.

I'm not going to get too much into whether this is a good idea or not; the economics here can be a little tricky. But I do notice that a lot of the people that say, "We don't need to worry about this much debt," they often add the caveat “for now.” Right now, we don't really need to worry about it. And part of the reason for that is because as long as money is being invested into growth, then it can be helpful, and U.S. has good credit so it can keep borrowing money and other things like that.

But here's the piece that is worth paying attention to. Right now, our debt is growing faster than our Gross Domestic Product in the United States. And so, we can't have more debt than growth forever. At some point, we're going to have to figure out how to reduce the deficit.

What's the Deficit?

Now, the deficit is basically how much we're over spending in our annual budget. So, our budget has only actually been balanced a few times in the last century. The times where we're making more than we're spending, only happened under Nixon in 1969 and under Clinton (between '99 and 2001). you can find the information; there's a lot of great links below about all of that.

But, most of the time, we're spending way more than we are making. Why would we do that?

What is Keynesian Economics?

The whole idea of Keynesian economics, is that we should spend more when we need it to charge up the economy. But what that also means is that when things are flush, when we're doing well, and the economy is not in some sort of crisis, those are the points where we need to be spending less.

We need to reduce the deficit in times when things are going well. There are four ways to do that.

1. We can spend less.

2. We can raise taxes.

3. We can grow the economy, and that's part of the idea of why the spending on infrastructure is a good idea. Or,

4. We can shift the things we're spending on. Military costs more, and doesn't create a lot of jobs compared to teachers and education and so forth. So putting money into things that create more jobs and grow the economy, that's another way we can do it.

The thing is, it's not super popular to do this kind of stuff.

Politicians love to spend more for their people or reduce taxes for their people. So, the question that really we need to think about is: What would it take to prioritize being responsible over being popular? One way to do that is to shift what it means for a politician to be popular. What would it mean for us to celebrate responsible, nuanced and thoughtful communication? Or what would it look like for us to really collaborate, deliberate and think about how we want to deal with this situation? Or what commitments can we make for future generations?

I think in general, one of the most important things we can do is learn how to face hard truths and really look at them. because it's a lot easier to ignore when things are hard or complex.

Again, those numbers for going from a thousand to a million, to a billion, to a trillion seconds.

• 1000 = 16 minutes

• 1,000,000 = 11/12 days

• 1,000,000,000 = 31 years for a billion seconds

• 1,000,000,000,000 = 31,000 years for a trillion seconds.

About Me

I am Duncan Autrey, a conflict transformation facilitator and educator.

For more information on my work, conflict transformation, my podcast and discussions about thought-provoking topics, Visit my website: https://www.omni-win.com

Subscribe to Omni-Win Visions here on Substack:

Subscribe now

This video is inspired by my conversation with Bill Shireman on my podcast Fractal Friends: https://www.fractalfriends.us/fractalfriends/bill-shireman

• Original Post from 2021

• Omni-Win Project Podcast Episode with Bill Shireman

• Substack Post about Bill Shireman

Links & Resources:

Overall summary of U.S. national debt: https://www.itsuptous.org/US-National-Debt

Debt data:

• U.S. National Debt by Year (2025) Source: Investopedia

• U.S. Debt Timeline (2021): https://howmuch.net/articles/timeline-us-debt-history

• Visualize debt (2023): https://www.visualcapitalist.com/cp/us-debt-31-4-trillion-owed-in-2023/

• U.S. Debt Clock (current): https://www.usdebtclock.org/

Deficit data:

• The Senate OBBBA in Charts (July 2, 2025): https://www.crfb.org/blogs/senate-obbba-charts Source: Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget

• FY 2025 spending by Budget (May 2025): https://www.usaspending.gov/explorer/budget_function Source: USASpending.gov

Don't worry about the debt:

• 2025

  • Treasury secretary Scott Bessent insists US will ‘never default’ on its debt

  • White House economists project falling deficits from Trump agenda

• 2020

  • Here’s why top economists are not worried about the national debt, now worth over $26 trillion

  • There is no reason to worry about the national debt right now

Worry about the debt:

• 2025

  • Congress just pushed the U.S. toward a debt crisis. The Fed can’t save us. (Washington Post)

  • US fiscal folly could create big, beautiful debt spiral (Reuters)

  • The Budget Bill’s Big Consequences (Time Magazine)

• Five Reasons Why You Should Worry About The Federal Debt (2018)

• Why Should We Worry About the National Debt? (2019)

How to pay off the debt & Keynesian economics: https://www.shortform.com/blog/keynesian-economic-theory/

How big is a trillion?

The military has been deployed in Los Angeles. Political institutions are strained. Leading democracy scholars warn the U.S. is drifting toward “anocracy” — an unstable mix of authoritarianism and democracy. People are unsettled. Some are scared. Many are asking:

What can I actually do right now that matters?

One Way to Start: Come Talk with Me

→ Open Office Hours:
Mondays & Fridays → calendly.com/duncanautrey/drh

I’m holding open office hours each week — a space to reflect, connect, and explore together. Bring a question, a stuck point, a tool you love, or just curiosity.

• Bring a question you’re wrestling with.

• Bring a project you want to move forward.

• Bring a resource you’re looking for — or one you want to share.

• Bring something that feels stuck, or something that’s just starting to spark.

Office hours are a space to think things through, explore options, and get pointed toward what might help — tools, people, trainings, or new ways of seeing the work.

What I’m Doing

Since early 2024, I’ve been managing the Democracy Resource Hub — a curated collection of tools, trainings, and organizations that support democracy work across the fields of organizing, bridge-building, and participatory governance. Lately, that work has expanded into a role we're calling the “Walking Librarian.”

I’m now in the middle of a field-wide listening tour — connecting with organizers, peacebuilders, civic innovators, and democracy practitioners. The goal is to map what’s stuck, what’s shifting, and what people need to keep moving forward. I’m translating those insights into tools, cross-field trainings, and new ways to support this ecosystem.

• Surfacing insights from relational conversations

• Mapping intersections and tensions between fields

• Connecting people with tools, trainings, and each other

• And out of the findings from that: Co-creating cross-field trainings rooted in what people are really asking for

🎥 Watch: What Is the Democracy Resource Hub?
A 3-minute introduction to how the Hub is designed, what it includes, and why it matters right now.

This work is supported by the SHIFT Action Lab, which exists to experiment at the intersection of three key movements:

• ✊ Organizing and Power-building

• 🕊️ Bridging and Peacebuilding

• 🧭 Democracy Strengthening and Participatory Governance

What I’m Hearing So Far

🧩 Bridge-building needs more organizing muscle.

There’s a growing sense that bridging work too often “preaches to the choir” — drawing folks who are already predisposed to dialogue. One person reflected, “We keep designing these conversations for people who are already on board. We need to create spaces that actually draw in people who aren’t already trained up.” The emerging push is to reach broader audiences through stealth entry points and to integrate more of an organizing mindset — invitation, relevance, strategy — into the bridging space.

🔥 Protest is potent — but people want pathways.

Practitioners voiced a desire for resistance work that doesn’t stop at saying “no.” One comment captured this clearly: “We need ways to organize resistance that don’t just provoke backlash — that feel strategic, that help us build power and vision at the same time.” There’s energy around connecting civil resistance to long-term goals, narrative framing, and sustainable organizing practices.

🤝 Inclusion across divides is harder (and more urgent) than it sounds.

Many people want to build truly ideologically diverse spaces — but without diluting their values. As one person put it: “It’s not that we don’t want conservatives in the room. But we don’t want to pretend that authoritarianism is just another opinion.” There’s a live tension between holding openness and maintaining principled boundaries — and people are craving better frameworks to navigate that.

These conversations are already surfacing insights and shifts that point toward something bigger: a movement that’s not just reactive, but regenerative — grounded in real relationships, practical tools, and shared work across our fields.

Explore the Democracy Resource Hub

If you haven’t visited yet, the Democracy Resource Hub is a curated online library that the Action Lab built out to support people like you — practitioners who want to act with clarity, build with others, and strengthen democracy from wherever they stand.

• 🔎 Browse the Directory of networks, training orgs, and resource libraries

• 🎥 Watch the Intro Video to get oriented

• 📂 Use the curated collections to find concrete tools you can use if you're group is mired in internal conflict; how to run a citizens assembly; how to stay calm when someone is saying something that you find insane; and more.

I just returned from the American Democracy Summit, and I’ll be at the 22nd Century Initiative gathering next, continuing the listening. Trainings and resource toolkits are in the works. This isn’t just about better information — it’s about a more connected movement.

🎥 Watch: How to Navigate the Democracy Resource Hub
This short video shows how to explore resource pages, directories, and curated tools — using Peacebuilding as an example, but the structure is the same across the Hub.

Have Something to Share?

If you feel like you’re holding a perspective or experience that should be part of this listening tour — especially something that bridges fields or offers insight into what’s emerging — I’d love to hear from you.

While I’m already reaching out to a broad range of folks, I’m always open to hearing from people whose work or wisdom might not be on the usual map.

→ If you'd like to be part of the Listening Tour (where I ask the questions):
calendly.com/duncanautrey/democracy

→ If you have questions or want help navigating resources (my office hours):
calendly.com/duncanautrey/drh

Or reach out directly:
📬 librarian@democracyresourcehub.org

Let’s explore the intersections — together.

Introduction:
The House Is Still Standing---But It's Under Siege

Six months ago, I wrote about the three choices we face in the wake of Trump's re-election: Defend the status quo, Disrupt the system, or Transform democracy itself. In that first essay, I laid out the crossroad. The essays that followed---Holding Onto Home and Politics of Disruption---explored how we got here and why the system is so brittle.

Now, it's time to build a vision for what the transformation means. This piece is not just a follow-up. It's a blueprint, a manifesto and an invitation.

And it's arriving at a moment that is even more urgent than it was in November.

What began as disruption has become dismantling.

Federal employees are being asked to prove their loyalty—not to the Constitution, but to the president. Project 2025, the governing blueprint from the Heritage Foundation and Trump-aligned leaders, outlines a plan to consolidate executive power and “bend or break the bureaucracy” to enforce presidential will (p. 44).1 The rule of law is being undermined, with moves that could provoke a constitutional crisis. And the world is paying attention: the U.S. has been officially labeled a “backsliding democracy” for the first time in history.2

These trends aren't speculative—they're being operationalized in real time. This is the unraveling.

So let me say this clearly: This is not a time to defend a broken past or gamble on chaos. It's time to transform.

If you’re new here—welcome.
Since November, over a hundred new readers have joined. Whether you found your way here through the American Democracy Summit or a recent essay, I’m glad you’re with us. This is where we begin to build.

The Renovation Metaphor (continued): A House Worth Saving

Back in November, I introduced a metaphor to help us understand our political moment: our democracy as a historic house—beloved, weathered, and in need of repair. That metaphor grounded the essay Holding Onto Home. It helped frame the crossroads we faced: preservation, demolition, or renovation.

Six months later, we’re no longer at a crossroads. The demolition crew showed up early. No permits, no plans—just sledgehammers. They’re on-site, swinging sledgehammers. Inspectors have been fired. Loyalists are rewiring the building in secret. Meanwhile, the preservationists are shouting at the fence line—some calling for a return to how things used to be, others trying to physically block the demolition, and still others tentatively engaging with the renovators to salvage what they can. Their responses are scattered: patching holes, pleading for calm, or debating what parts of the new blueprint to adopt. They know what they’re against, but they can't agree on what comes next—or how to get there.

The house metaphor still works—but it’s no longer a gentle analogy. It’s a reality check. Our democratic home is being gutted. What’s needed now isn’t sentiment or fury—it’s a renovation crew with blueprints, tools, and enough hands to do the work.

That’s what this essay offers: a closer look at what’s broken, a vision for what’s possible, and an invitation to roll up your sleeves.

This essay covers the first two phases of that process:

1. Assessment -- what's broken and why.

2. Vision -- what a functional, just, and inspiring democracy could look like.

This isn’t just metaphor anymore. We're making a plan. Here’s what we’re fixing, and what we can build.

Part I: Two Levels of Breakdown---The Surface Problems and the Systemic Ones

To fix something, we have to understand what's wrong.

On the surface, we're drowning in crises:

• Economic instability and widening inequality

• Healthcare costs and access disparities

• Gun violence and public safety fears

• Climate disasters and environmental degradation

• Immigration gridlock, education gaps, infrastructure failures

These are wicked problems---complex, interdependent, and evolving. But that's only the first layer.

The second, deeper layer is this: our current system isn't equipped to solve them. It was designed for a different era, and it's breaking under the weight of complexity.

Here's what's failing:

1. Adversarial Design -- A win/lose system that rewards polarization over problem-solving.

2. Distorted Incentives -- Power flows to the loudest, richest, and most extreme---not the wisest or most inclusive.

3. Short-Termism -- The election cycle incentivizes reactive fixes, not long-term strategy.

4. Elite Detachment -- Leaders are often more accountable to donors than to communities.

5. Broken Information Ecosystem -- Media rewards outrage; disinformation spreads faster than understanding.

These flaws aren't just accidental---they're being actively exploited to accelerate breakdown.

Part II: The Blueprint---Principles for a Democracy That Works

So, what would it take to build a democracy that can meet our moment—one that is actually capable of addressing the wicked problems we face, like inequality, climate instability, and social fragmentation? I’ve written elsewhere about how we can approach wicked problems and why complex systems thinking is key to understanding them. But the short version is this: these challenges aren't meant to be 'solved' once and for all—they demand systems that can adapt, include diverse voices, and foster long-term collaboration.

We begin with first principles for a better democracy. These are not theoretical aspirations—they are practical, lived commitments. They name the essential functions a resilient democracy must perform if it hopes to thrive in a complex, pluralistic society. This is the blueprint. This is what we build toward.

🔹 1. Inclusivity

A democracy must belong to everyone. That means full representation, participatory access, and especially centering voices historically excluded.

🔹 2. Informed Participation

Decisions should be grounded in shared understanding---drawing on facts, lived experience, and expertise. Knowledge must be a public good.

🔹 3. Deliberation

We need processes that make space for real dialogue, not just debate. As the Four Truths of Conflict remind us: how we engage shapes what we create.

🔹 4. Transparency

People trust what they understand. Open, visible decision-making processes build legitimacy and reduce suspicion.

🔹 5. Consensus Orientation

Instead of forcing binary outcomes, our systems should aim for shared ownership---"good enough for now, safe to try," not perfect or unanimous.

Living Blueprints: Democracy in Action Across the U.S.

These aren't theoretical concepts—they're real-world applications of inclusive, deliberative democracy happening right now.

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 Citizens' Assemblies in Local Communities

• Petaluma, CA: Residents engaged in a citizens' assembly to deliberate on climate action strategies, resulting in actionable recommendations for the city council. (Watch the testimonials from the participants.)

• Montrose, CO & Fort Collins, CO: These communities have implemented citizens' assemblies to tackle local issues, fostering inclusive decision-making processes.

🎧 [Listen to my podcast episode with the Healthy Democracy, the organizers of the Petaluma Citizen Assembly]

Digital Deliberation with Polis

• Bowling Green, KY: Utilized Polis to facilitate a virtual town hall, enabling residents to collectively identify community priorities.

• Neighborhood Micro-Democracy: I'm piloting project that combines Polis and deliberation in my own neighborhood to empower residents in local decision-making.

Convergent Facilitation for Collaborative Solutions

• Minnesota State Legislature: Employed Convergent Facilitation to bridge partisan divides on child custody legislation, leading to a consensus-driven outcome.

• California Pest Management: Applied this method to develop sustainable pest management policies through stakeholder collaboration.Convergent Facilitation

🎧 Listen to my interview with Paul Kahawatte on the Omni-Win Project Podcast

Participatory Budgeting Empowering Citizens

• New York City: Residents directly influence budget allocations for community projects, exemplifying fiscal transparency and civic engagement.

Conclusion: This Is Our Moment. Let's Build Something Better.

We're not waiting for some perfect time. The time is now.

This is the moment to say: we don't need to defend what's broken or burn it down. We can build something that works. Something that lasts. Something that belongs to all of us.

The blueprint is here. The tools exist. And the renovation has already begun.

Whether you're joining from the American Democracy Summit, newly subscribed this spring, or have been with me since the beginning---I invite you into this movement of movements.

This Movement Is Already Underway

Across the country, people are laying the foundation for transformation:

🔹 Better Together America
Better Together America is building a nationwide network of local democracy hubs—empowering communities to foster civic resilience, tackle local challenges, and hold institutions accountable. It’s grassroots democracy with national support, weaving shared learning, funding, and communication tools.
Get involved or start a hub in your community—learn more.

🔹 Inter-Movement Impact Project (Thriving Together US)
IMIP is catalyzing a “movement of movements” for democratic transformation—bridging sectors, sparking collaboration, and calling us to co-create a future grounded in connection and belonging. It's a space to not just ask what we must do, but who we must become.
Join us—click here to connect.

🔹 Democracy Resource Hub
The Democracy Resource Hub connects practitioners to tools, trainings, and directories across five strategic pathways—from peacebuilding to narrative change. As the “Walking Librarian,” I’m traveling the field to surface stories, identify needs, and weave relationships across silos.
Explore the hub and sign up for updates—check it out here.

🔹 Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy
PMD activates mediators, facilitators, and dialogue experts to lead democratic renewal from the ground up. Through monthly forums and a national learning network, practitioners are turning conflict into connection and modeling democracy through inclusive engagement.
Join the community and bring your skills to the table—sign up here.

These aren’t just projects I admire—they’re also the work I’m part of.
From piloting local experiments to supporting national networks, I’m rolling up my sleeves alongside many of you. This is what gives me hope. And if you’re looking for a way in, these are great places to start.

Whether you bring your hands, your voice, or your vision—there's a place for you in this work.

Let’s make democracy something we build together—not something we defend or destroy.

Let’s get to work.

Author’s Note: If you’re looking for a break from political analysis, check out my essay and podcast from 2022: "Three Reasons to Celebrate Thanksgiving". For those ready to dive in, let’s explore how we can navigate this pivotal political moment together.

Understanding Politics Through a Conflict Transformation Lens

As someone deeply committed to integrating tools like mediation, dialogue, and deliberation to heal U.S. political culture, this moment in history feels particularly intense. Many have asked for my take on the 2024 election and its implications.

Honestly, I feel a mix of fear, curiosity, and motivation. It’s hard to know if we’re veering toward democratic collapse, enduring a reality check for our polarized systems, or on the cusp of profound transformation. What’s clear is that the status quo isn’t working. The choice before us is stark: more democracy or less democracy. For me, it’s always about more.

This essay builds on earlier reflections about renovating democracy (see this essay) and the three paths ahead: protect, demolish, or transform. Here, I introduce a framework to understand the deeper dynamics of political conflict and the opportunities they reveal. It’s rooted in what I call the Four Truths of Conflict1—principles that can help us navigate political tensions and design a path forward.

The Four Truths of Conflict

These truths are a lens for understanding and resolving conflict at any scale, offering clarity about underlying patterns and pathways for constructive engagement:

1. Conflict isn’t about what it seems to be about.
   Beneath every conflict are unmet needs and systemic forces.
   ➡ What deeper needs or dynamics are driving this conflict?

2. Everyone involved in the problem must be part of the solution.
   Exclusion fuels unresolved tensions. If people are left out, they’ll find ways to include themselves—often disruptively.
   ➡ Who is being excluded, and how can they be invited into the process?

3. The process and the outcome are the same.
   How we engage shapes what we create. Every outcome sets the stage for future dynamics.
   ➡ Does the process reflect the values and qualities we want in the outcome?

4. There will never be a final outcome.
   Democracy and life are ongoing experiments. Trying to “solve” everything at once leads to oversimplification and gridlock.
   ➡ Are we embracing long-term, adaptive solutions, or falling into the “conclusion illusion”?

These truths not only diagnose the problem but also guide us toward solutions that are inclusive, sustainable, and systemic.With this lens, let’s analyze the 2024 election and its deeper implications for U.S. politics, while looking ahead to how we might chart a path forward.

The Real Drivers of 2024: What If It's Not About Donald Trump?

At first glance, the 2024 election feels like a high-stakes battle over Donald Trump—his policies, leadership, and polarizing impact, and the real concerns about his authoritarian inclinations.2 But the first truth of conflict reminds us that it’s rarely about what it seems to be about. Beneath the surface issue lies something deeper.

As the Democratic Party's post-mortem analysis highlights, the real drivers of this moment are alienation and frustration. Millions of Americans feel unheard, disconnected, and distrustful of the very systems meant to represent them. Voters are disillusioned by leaders who fail to address critical issues like economic insecurity and social fragmentation, leaving alienation at the heart of today’s polarization.3

This isn’t just about one election cycle or one man. It’s about a system failing to meet people’s needs. Beneath this anger lie universal human needs that are not being met: the need for belonging, agency, safety, and trust. Frameworks like nonviolent communication and interest-based mediation remind us that when those needs go unmet, frustration and division grow. Addressing these needs is critical for resolution, yet our system, built around binary choices and rivalries, is not equipped to address these deeper issues.

Beneath this anger lie universal needs: the need for belonging, agency, safety, and trust. Frameworks like Nonviolent Communication remind us that addressing these needs is critical for resolution. Yet our political systems fail to meet them.

Exclusion Breeds Chaos

The second truth of conflict reminds us that everyone involved in a problem needs to be included in finding a solution. Exclusion is unsustainable. When people are left out of decision-making, they will include themselves—on their own terms. This dynamic is evident across the political spectrum, from grassroots protests to full-blown rebellion.

As I wrote in June 2016 (“Invisible Voices,”) for many Trump supporters, this rebellion against the system is their way of demanding a seat at the table. Trump himself exemplifies this dynamic. As someone who has always felt excluded,45 Donald Trump (with his MAGA movement) is definitely going ahead and “including himself” — on his own terms.

This is where Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” becomes the perfect cultural metaphor.

The song is a shout for recognition—a demand to be seen and heard. It captures the raw energy of rebellion, the same defiance that drives people to disrupt systems that ignore their needs. When people feel excluded and unheard, they find ways to express themselves, often loudly or destructively.

This frustration transcends politics. We can almost all recognize this feeling. Groups across the political landscape, from Jan 6th protesters and Q-Anon researchers to drag queens and Ukrainian’s resisting Russia have used “We’re Not Gonna Take It” to express rebellion.6 It’s a cultural echo of what I described in my last article, “Holding onto Home,” the tension between those defending democracy’s cracks and those calling for demolition. But rebellion alone doesn’t address the real problem: our political system inherently sidelines the 50% who “lose” each election, leaving their needs and voices unaddressed.

My prediction for 2025: is that we will see protests from the left expressing that they don’t feel represented by the government.

Exclusion fuels a feedback loop of outrage, deepening divisions and mistrust. And yet, as the third truth reminds us, these outcomes are not inevitable—they are shaped by the systems we create.

Polarization Is a Systems Problem

The third truth of conflict reveals how the processes we use directly shape the outcomes we experience. An analysis through this lens quickly reveals how our current systems are designed in ways that perpetuate division and dysfunction, incentivizing and creating the very outcomes we find frustrating and destructive.

Let’s start by affirming that the U.S. Constitution is essentially an advanced (if outdated) conflict resolution system. It’s processes are designed to help us work together, but they are unable to manage modern complexity.

The clearest example of this is how our rivalrous system perpetuates division. The way we engage—through win/lose process—inherently creates polarization as the default outcome. It shouldn’t be surprising that a system that rewards winning over finding solutions is creating more and more division with every election cycle. This inability to address any important issues is bringing our country to the brink of catastrophe. What’s more, polarization is incentivized because the entire political-industrial complex benefits from keeping us divided.
In contrast, imagine a system that was designed to generate informed collaborative problem solving that aimed to find win-win outcomes. Such a system would be much more likely to generate unity across differences, and help us address our problems more effectively. And it’s possible.

There are many ways our political process is creating outcomes we don’t want.

For example, exclusion is built into the system. When decision-making prioritizes the interests of one group over others, many voices are left out, eroding trust. Similarly, the rise of misinformation is no accident—it thrives because our system incentivizes selective narratives and echo chambers, distorting facts to match what people want to hear.

We also fail to address complex problems because the system forces them into black-and-white, binary terms. Issues like abortion, gun rights, or immigration—deeply nuanced by their very nature—are reduced to simplistic “yes or no” debates. This kind of thinking doesn’t allow for the thoughtful, deliberative engagement necessary to find real solutions. Instead, soundbites dominate, leaving us ill-equipped to manage the complexity of real-world challenges.

And when decisions are made behind closed doors, in far off cities, with suspect interests at play, the lack of transparency fuels alienation and deepens mistrust. These flaws aren’t accidental—they’re outcomes of processes designed to concentrate power and incentivized towards competition.

To change these outcomes, we don’t need to rebuild the entires system, instead we need to change how we continue building it. Systems designed to support on inclusive participation, informed debate, deliberative engagement, and transparent decision-making in service of win-win solutions would produce solutions that work for more people and reduce division. As I’ll explore in the next essay, these principles can serve as a foundation for a better democracy.

Democracy as a Living Experiment

The fourth truth reminds us that democracy is not a destination but an ongoing experiment. There will never be a “final outcome,” because the conflicts we face are intrinsic to who we are. Immigration, gun rights, free speech, and race are not issues to be solved but questions to be navigated—forever.

This realization can feel daunting, but it’s also liberating. It shifts the goal from “winning” to creating processes that make these discussions more constructive, less painful, and ultimately more productive. Higher-order communication tools and inclusive systems allow us to engage with complexity rather than retreat from it.

This is especially timely as we approach 2026, the 250th anniversary of the United States. This milestone challenges us to ask: what kind of democracy do we want to sustain for the next 250 years? If we commit to designing systems that empower us to thrive in a reality of perpetual complexity, conflict and change, we can create a legacy that serves generations to come.

Conclusion: A Framework for Renewal

The Four Truths of Conflict remind us that democracy is not a fixed state but an ongoing process. We (yes you, me and all of us) are actually being and building democracy right now. By addressing the real drivers of conflict, ensuring inclusive participation, and embodying values like transparency and fairness, we can transform this moment of division into an opportunity for renewal.

In the coming weeks, I’ll explore these pathways more deeply, beginning with the principles of a better democracy. These principles—like inclusivity, deliberation, and win-win solutions—can serve as the foundation for systems that bring us together rather than driving us apart. Together, we can create a vision for transformation—not just for today, but for generations to come.

“Were Not Gonna Take It” (Full Video)

Trigger Warning: Angry parents. Start here to skip teenage flashback.

]

In the heart of America stands a house like no other. Built 248 years ago, it wasn’t just a structure; it was an act of imagination. Its foundation was laid on bold principles—freedom, representation, rule of law—that had never fully existed in one place before. Over generations, people saw this house as a promise: a place where everyone would have a say, where ideas could be debated, and where everyone had a chance to belong.

But time has not been kind. While the foundation remains, nearly every part of the house has aged. The plumbing—installed in a simpler era—is rusted, barely delivering water to those who need it. The wiring, designed for smaller decisions and shorter connections, sparks, fails and occasionally catches fire under today’s demands. And the information system—built in patches over decades—has become a tangle of incompatible lines. The house is loved, but those who live in it feel the cracks growing by the day.

As the problems worsened, two groups emerged with opposing ideas for the future of this historic place. The Preservationists loved the house as it was and cherished its history. They could see its flaws, but they couldn’t imagine how to repair it—they were too close to the house and lacked the tools. Fearful that change would erase its soul, they believed that each wall, each beam, was essential, even if it meant living with its quirks and breakdowns.

The Demolition Crew saw the house differently, though they loved it just as much. To them, the house was no longer fit for purpose. Frustrated by its flaws, they believed they could create something truer to its original spirit by starting fresh. They gathered their hammers and dreamed of tearing it down and rebuilding it from the ground up, but they lacked a vision of what exactly would take its place.

With each passing day, the gap between these groups grew. Residents of the house felt caught between loyalty to its history and frustration with its limits, each group pushing for a solution they believed would save the house. But the walls continued to crack, and the house itself seemed to lean under the weight of the conflict, as if waiting for a new path—a way forward that could honor its past without sacrificing its future.

And just when it seemed the two groups might tear each other apart, a small team of renovation experts—people who knew houses inside and out—arrived quietly on the front lawn. They didn’t come to argue; they came to listen. Chip and Joanna Gaines, famous for their ability to blend old and new, took a long look at the house. Chip’s heart went out to those who were frustrated by broken systems, faulty pipes, and outdated wiring. But Joanna saw just as clearly why so many people loved the house for what it was—its original character, its stories embedded in every inch of wood and stone.

They walked through each room, noting the plumbing that barely carried water, the sparking wires, and the jumbled information systems. But they also saw what the house could still be: a place where its original values were preserved, where people could live safely, sustainably, and together.

Stepping onto the porch, Chip turned to the gathered crowd. “Look, we get it. This place has serious problems. But tearing it down without a plan won’t solve them,” he said. “We have to start from the foundation. Assess what’s worth saving and modernize the systems that actually make this place run. That means fixing the plumbing so everyone has what they need, upgrading the wiring so we don’t burn the house down when the stakes get high, and bringing in new lines so we can communicate and share information.”

Joanna nodded, holding up a sketch of her plans. “This house can be everything it was meant to be, without losing its heart. But we have to renovate it thoughtfully. That means honoring what’s original while making it livable for the future. We’ll fix the core systems, make them adaptable, and then let each of you decorate your rooms to reflect what you care about most.”

But Chip and Joanna weren’t here just to fix the house and leave. “This isn’t just our project—it’s yours, too,” Joanna added, looking out at the crowd. “If we’re going to make this place livable, we need your hands and hearts in the work. We’ll show you how to care for these new systems, how to keep the wiring safe and the water flowing. This isn’t a one-time fix; it’s something you’ll maintain and build on over time.”

The crowd fell silent, seeing in Chip and Joanna’s vision a way forward that didn’t require sacrificing the past or gambling on an unknown future. Instead of tearing down the house or leaving it untouched, they could begin a careful, intentional renovation. A renovation that would allow the house to stand strong once again, built for both today and tomorrow, without losing its soul. And for the first time, the residents felt a new sense of belonging—not just as people living in the house, but as stewards of its future.

As the Renovators rolled up their sleeves, the Preservationists and the Demolition Crew saw their shared love for the house in a new light. For the first time, they began to imagine a future where their beloved house could be both historic and home—where it could hold onto its legacy while meeting the needs of those who lived there.

Even Chip knows to be careful when swinging a hammer:

"Our government is stuck in the past, bogged down by bureaucracy and incompetence. The Democrats had their chance to fix it, but they chose to maintain the status quo. It's time for real change."
- Donald Trump, Oct 28, 2024

November 6, 2024 – The day after a historic election, and the headlines on my phone are loud and clear: Trump Storms Back to Power. Across the country and around the world people are grappling with what this means—not just for the next four years, but for the future of democracy itself. Beneath the shock, a deeper message resonates across red and blue states alike: Americans are calling for change.

A Turning Point for Democracy: Addressing Fear, Frustration, and the Call for Change

Trump’s re-election has sparked deep fears for many, both enemies and friends of this country. Women and marginalized communities who feel their rights and protections are at risk feel especially and rightfully concerned. For many, this election outcome is more than a political shift; it’s a personal blow, casting uncertainty over issues that impact their daily lives. These fears remind us why a truly transformative democracy is so essential—a system that listens to all voices and protects everyone, not just the powerful. Building this kind of democracy isn’t an abstract goal; it’s a necessary step toward a future where no one has to fear being left behind.

At the same time, many on the left may see Trump’s victory as an endorsement of divisive and dangerous views. It's helpful for me to understand that much of this vote was less about supporting one person’s ideology and more about rejecting a system that feels unresponsive and out of touch. For many, they're willing to accept flaws in the hope of real change. This election reveals a deep hunger across the spectrum for a system that truly serves people—a vision that a transformative, inclusive democracy can actually fulfill. In Trump's words, it's “the greatest political movement of all time.” “They came from, they came from all quarters. Union, nonunion, African American, Hispanic American, Asian American, Arab American, Muslim American, we had everybody and it was beautiful.Union, nonunion, African American, Hispanic American, Asian American, Arab American, Muslim American, we had everybody, and it was beautiful.” (Victory Speech, Nov 6)

Looking at the map of county shifts, it’s clear that people across the nation voted to break from the status quo. This isn’t simply about Trump; it’s about a widespread hunger for transformation in a system that many feel has failed them. And yet, the options we’ve been given feel incomplete, reduced to two unsatisfying choices: defending a broken system or rolling the dice on disruption.

This brings us to a real choice, one my mentor Ken Cloke captured best on the Omni-Win Project Podcast, “When democracy isn’t working, we face two choices: more democracy or less democracy.”

The Three Paths Forward: Defend, Disrupt, or Transform

1. Defending the Status Quo: For many Democratic leaders, protecting democracy means standing against Trump, painting him as an existential threat. Yet, as political analyst Astead Herndon pointed out on The Daily (Oct 30), this approach often sounds like a defense of the status quo—a system that, for too many, is already unresponsive and broken. In focusing on Trump as a unique problem, Democrats risk overlooking a crucial reality: that the system itself has left many feeling ignored and excluded. “When you criticize Trump for being a threat to democracy, you may reinforce the idea that you think democracy is going well for people,” Herndon noted, “when that poll shows it’s not.” The Daily (Oct 30)

2. Disrupting the System:
   Trump’s supporters aren’t merely seeking to tear things down for the sake of chaos; they see disruption as a path toward reclaiming power from entrenched elites. In his victory speech, Trump framed his win as a mandate to “help our country heal…a country that needs help very badly.” His campaign has been a promise to “drain the swamp” and “restore power to the people.” While this message resonates deeply with those who feel alienated, Trump’s plan is light on specifics, leaving it more of a gamble on dismantling the existing system than a clear roadmap for improvement.

3. Transforming Democracy:
   There is a third path—a path that acknowledges the system’s flaws without tearing it down or preserving the broken parts. This path is about transforming democracy into a system that is participatory, inclusive, and truly responsive to people’s needs. Rather than defending a status quo that excludes or dismantling it without a clear plan, transformation means redesigning democracy itself. It’s about building a future where every voice matters and where decisions are made with, not just for, the people.

The Real Choice: More Democracy or Less Democracy

In this moment, it’s clear that Americans aren’t satisfied with business as usual. Defending the system as it is or recklessly dismantling it are responses born out of frustration, but neither truly addresses the underlying problems. To move forward, we need a different approach—a commitment to more democracy, not less.

By choosing transformation, we can build a win-win democracy that values every voice, includes every perspective, and brings us together to shape a future that serves all Americans. This is our real choice: let democracy fade, or redesign it into a powerful force for inclusion, trust, and progress.

If we want a democracy that truly works, we must change the structures that drive division and polarization. Conflict in politics often stems from three main ingredients: diversity, inequality, and an adversarial process. Diversity and inequality are unavoidable parts of society—they add richness and drive change. But it’s the adversarial, win/lose process that turns political disagreement into chronic, divisive conflict.

In our current system, competing groups are forced to choose between all-or-nothing outcomes. This win/lose approach fuels rivalry, marginalizes dissenting voices, and leads to resentment rather than resolution. Imagine, instead, a political process that fosters win-win solutions—a democracy that’s collaborative, inclusive, and designed to meet the needs of all involved.

What Does a Win-Win Democracy Look Like?

Shifting to a win-win democracy isn’t about eliminating diversity or inequality; it’s about changing the process. Here’s what this shift would mean:

• Participatory and Inclusive: Decision-making that includes all voices, values dissent, and ensures that everyone impacted by a decision has a say in the solution.

• Interest-Based Solutions: Moving from demands and positions to understanding the underlying needs of all parties. Focusing on why people want what they want allows for creative, cooperative solutions that can satisfy multiple interests.

• Transparent and Trust-Building: A process that emphasizes transparency and fairness, building trust over time and reducing future conflicts.

This approach isn’t hypothetical—it already exists in tools like consensus-building, mediation, and community dialogues. In a win-win democracy, every political decision is an opportunity to strengthen relationships and foster understanding, making democracy not just a system of governance but a continuous practice of collaboration.

The Path Forward: Transforming Democracy with Proven Solutions

Real democratic transformation is already underway, fueled by a powerful “movement of movements” dedicated to building a resilient, inclusive democracy. I’m fortunate to be connected with several of these initiatives, and there are many ways you can get involved:

Join the Pro-Democracy Movement of Movements

• Democracy Resource Hub: This comprehensive directory connects you to tools, strategies, and organizations working to renew democracy. It’s a perfect starting point to explore your role in this movement.

• Inter-Movement Impact Project: Join this coalition of hundreds of organizations coordinating monthly to strengthen democracy. Follow and engage with Generate Democracy on LinkedIn to become part of this collective.

• Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy: If you’re skilled in mediation, facilitation, or community-building, this initiative offers events and resources to support your work in fostering dialogue and bridging divides. I’m proud to be part of this project, and we’d love to have you join.

• Healthy Democracy Ecosystem Map: Gain insights into the organizations and initiatives shaping a more inclusive democracy.

Explore Resources and Inspiration:

• Newsletters and Blogs: Stay connected with updates and ideas from Democracy Notes, Generate Democracy!, The Fulcrum, Beyond Intractability's Substack, and Horizons Project Vista.

• More inspiration and ideas on the Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy resource page.

Take Local Action:

• Engage in Your Community: Attend city council or school board meetings, join local advocacy groups, or start neighborhood dialogues. Small actions add up, transforming democracy from the ground up.

• Better Together America: Consider starting a community-based project that brings democratic principles to life locally. Better Together America is supporting a network of local democracy hubs and state roundtables paired with a national combined funding campaign to catalyze and connect the field of democracy.

Real transformation happens when we all take part. These initiatives are here to support, inspire, and empower you to help build the democracy we know is possible.

A Hopeful Challenge for America: Reclaiming Democracy as Our Own

Trump’s re-election might feel like a setback, but it’s also a call to action. If this moment proves anything, it’s that people are hungry for change—whether they’re frustrated with the establishment or the current system’s failures. This isn’t a time to retreat into defending what isn’t working or to celebrate a chaotic disruption. It’s time to reclaim democracy as our own.

Our future doesn’t lie in tearing down or preserving the old structures. It lies in taking what works, transforming what doesn’t, and building a democracy that includes and serves everyone. This is a call to anyone who feels disillusioned, frustrated, or left out. It’s time to make democracy reflect the people’s will, not the will of elites or disruptors alone.

Democracy isn’t something to defend or destroy; it’s something we must continuously build together. This is our moment to embrace democratic transformation and create a system that truly serves all Americans. Let’s get started

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As we approach another election, I can’t help but ask a question that’s been with me my whole life: How do we want to relate to each other (after the election) regardless of who wins?

I’m not someone who gets caught up in the horse race—the constant red versus blue battles and polling numbers. What I pay close attention to is the tone and quality of our conversations as a nation. And let’s be honest, the quality of those conversations has been suffering. A lot.

As someone who’s passionate about co-creating a healthier democracy with all of you, I believe this is where our focus should be: on how we treat one another and how we can make sure that we all win together, because the alternative is really dark. This isn’t an “us vs. them” situation. We’re all on the same team, and the question is: how do we live that truth better? How can we shepherd this country into a future that's great for the grand-children?

I wrote about this idea a while back, in an essay on how "We all Win, or We all Lose.” This idea is more relevant than ever as we figure out how to engage each other across divides.

Introducing the Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy Project

One of the ways I’ve been exploring these questions is through the Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy (PMD). Tomorrow, we’re hosting a forum where practitioners like you can come together to discuss how we can support healthy, post-election engagement. At the next Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy Forum we’ll be talking about this very question:

How Can We Foster Healing and Respect for All, No Matter Who Wins the Election?

If you’re interested, I’d love for you to join us.
Date: Tomorrow, Thursday, September 26th
Time: 10 a.m. PDT / 1 p.m. EDT
Sign up here to get meeting information!

If this sounds like something you’d want to stay connected with beyond this forum, you can also join the project to get updates on future events, workshops, and our Community of Practice gatherings. [Sign up for future updates here].

Introducing the Democracy Resource Hub

I’m thrilled to announce the launch of the Democracy Resource Hub. I've been working with the Horizons Project and Shift Action Lab to curate this key resource for anyone who’s looking to get involved in strengthening democracy. The Hub provides tools, guides, and connections for people across movements who are working to build a better future for all of us.

You can explore the Democracy Resource Hub. I’d love for you to take a look and share your thoughts!

Join the Movement of Movements Renewing Democracy

If you’re ready to join the growing movement of people working to heal and renew democracy, there are two ways you can get involved right now:

• Join Generate Democracy - The Inter-Movement Impact Project (IMIP): I’m part of this exciting project, which brings together different movements and communities focused on strengthening democracy. You can connect with us and others committed to this work by joining the LinkedIn group here, or by coming to one of our monthly community forums.

• Discover More Opportunities through Citizen Connect: If you want to explore everything that’s happening across the democracy landscape, Citizen Connect is the perfect resource. It brings together events, opportunities, and ways to engage in a wide range of democracy initiatives. citizenconnect.us

Let’s keep working together toward a future where the conversations we have—before, during, and after elections—are ones that heal, build, and strengthen us all.

Thanks for being part of this journey, and I hope to see you at one of these events soon!

Peace,
Duncan Autrey

Dear Friends,

It's 2024 and it is time for those of us who want to advance the improvement of democracy to demonstrate that it can be better.

I'm excited to reconnect with you and share some updates about the vital work happening in the pro-democracy movement. Our community has grown a lot since I last posted. Welcome to the Omni-Win Project where we're trying to co-create the future of democracy.
And I'm thrilled to include you all in a project that is at the heart of the Omni-Win Project vision: the mobilization of collaborative practitioners to bring their skills to democracy.

Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy - Launch Event

The Role of Mediators & Facilitators in Healing U.S. Democracy
Date: July 1, 2024 | Time: 9am PT / Noon ET
Register Now: bit.ly/practitionermobilization1

Join us to hear words of inspiration from pioneers in the fields of civic engagement, dialogue, mediation and conflict transformation: Joan Blades (Co-founder of Living Room Conversations) and Ken Cloke (Author, Mediator and Omni-Win Project Podcast Guest).
Learn how your skills in creating understanding across differences can help heal our democracy, and get details on the Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy Campaign is support you as you get involved.

Next Steps:

1. Register for the July 1 event: bit.ly/practitionermobilization1

2. Sign up for Practitioner Mobilization for Democracy campaign updates: bit.ly/practitioner-mobilization-survey

3. Join Generate Democracy on LinkedIn and come to the June 20th Community Forum (link in Updates).

I believe your skills are crucial for navigating the fractures in our society. Together, we can build a more vibrant and inclusive democracy.

Stay tuned for more updates on this powerful movement. I look forward to seeing you on July 1 and working together to create positive change.

Warm regards,
Duncan Autrey

Updates:

Wondering where I've been this year? Here's a taste of what I’ve been working on:

• Last fall (2023) I attended the American Democracy Summit and the National Conference on Dialogue & Deliberation (NCDD). Lots of conversations got started. Since then I've been collaborating with a movement of movements that are working on the long-term healing of our democracy. These include:

• Inter-Movement Impact Project (Generate Democracy).

  • You are invited to join the next community Forum on June 20th at 9:30-11:00am PDT (12:30-2pm EDT) Add the event to google Calendar.

  • Join Generate Democracy on LinkedIn.

  • Better Together America: “a national support network of state and local democracy roundtables & hubs paired with a national campaign to catalyze and connect the field of democracy.”

• I've become the manager the Democracy Resource Hub with the Horizons Project.

• I've started a local democracy project with my neighborhood council where we're using deliberative technology and inclusive dialogue processes to give people a real voice in the issues that impact their lives.

Are you passionate about creating meaningful change in our society? I have an exciting opportunity for you to be part of a live conversation that could reshape the way we think about conflict and democracy.

We're thrilled to announce a live "Trialogue" event featuring John Kinyon, creator of Mediate Your Life, and Scott Vineberg, creator of PeoplePower.tv, hosted by Duncan. This event promises to be more than just a discussion; it's a journey into understanding how conflict transformation can enter the realm of popular consciousness and catalyze societal change.

But here's the best part: you can be a part of this enlightening conversation by becoming a patron of the Omni-Win Project at patreon.com/omniwin. Your support not only gives you exclusive access to this live event but also contributes to the greater cause of upgrading our democracy.

Join Us on December 13th, at 6pm/9pm (PST/EST)

Patrons get the link here.

John Kinyon will share his expertise in mediation and conflict resolution, offering insights from his "Mediate Your Life" approach. He'll delve into the importance of mindfulness and effective communication in conflict resolution, providing practical examples and stories.

Scott Vineberg will bring his perspective on deliberative democracy, discussing the transformative power of pop media in accelerating societal change. He'll share his journey and the challenges he faces in making a significant impact through his work.

As a patron, you'll be able to interact with our speakers, ask questions, and engage in a deeper discussion about the pressing issues of our time. This is your chance to be at the forefront of a movement that aims to bring real change to our collective political story in 2024 and beyond.

Don't miss this opportunity to be part of a community dedicated to making a difference. Become a patron today, and let's embark on this journey together. Your support and engagement are crucial in shaping a future where conflict transformation and democratic advancement are at the heart of our society.

Join us, and let's transform democracy together. See you at the Trialogue!

Subscribe now

“Do you believe that our political system and national leaders can address the critical questions of our generation without effective communication skills nor the ability to collaborate across differences?”

Nope?
Me neither, and I don't expect them to get it together any time soon.

It's up to us apparently, and, fortunately, that's what democracy is all about.

I can't think of anything more important for our current political crisis than developing a network of  local stewards, skilled facilitators and conflict resolutionaries who are able to stand gracefully in the fire of conflict, support important conversations and transform deeply divisive questions into sustainable all-win solutions.

In preparation for 2024, I want to teach as many people as possible in collaborative communication skills, so that we can upgrade our democracy together.

For the first time in many years, this fall I'm teaching a fundamental and transformational course on:

Facilitation & Conflict Resolution

Join me to discover the art of igniting generative dialogues among diverse voices and learn the secrets to gracefully embracing and resolving conflicts

• Learn critical communication skills that benefit every part of your life 

• Increase your confidence to host important conversations in your community

• Supercharge your local leadership by being able to address conflict in a healthy and productive way when it emerges

Click this link to register NOW for the 6 live modules.
Oct 5 - Dec 14, 2023
4:30-6 PT / 7:30-9 ET on alternating Thursdays

**Substack readers can use Discount Code SUB50 to get 50% off.**

Why is this Important?

Our national leaders are acting irresponsibly. They seem unable to make wise forward-thinking decisions.

Political division is corroding our communities and families and threatens our national integrity.

According to a June 2023 Pew Research Center poll, the only thing that a majority of Republicans and Democrats agree on is that they are worried about the inability of Republicans and Democrats to agree on anything.

We cannot afford to let our differences hinder our progress,
especially when diversity is supposed to be our greatest strength.

It's time to abandon the illusion of an "us versus them" struggle because, in reality, we all win or we all lose.

The 'Facilitation and Conflict Resolution' course will not only change your life by enhancing your career and relationships, but it will also change the course of history.

We need you, the next generation of facilitators and conflict resolution experts who can confidently stand in the fires of conflict and lead us toward a sustainable, all-win democracy together.

Register Now

Substack readers can use Discount Code SUB50 to get 50% off.

Watch the Course Overview video to learn more:

This course is one of many featured in the Local Stewards Academy, which is offering 15 different educational courses this fall, led by experts in a diverse array of fields, to support people in becoming more empowered, informed, and equipped to make positive change at the local level.

Check out the course list below, and if you’re interested, you can SIGN UP HERE. It’s only $19/month to have access to ALL these courses and gain access to the online learning platform.

Guess what Omni-Win!
I'll be teaching one out of over 20 courses included in the United Independents’ Local Stewards Training Academy. Join me at the launch event this Saturday (Sept 16) to learn more.

Are you ready to make a real impact in your community? Just as an engineer doesn't build a dam on intuition alone, creating fundamental change in society requires developing key skills in political transformation.

Revolutionary leaders are not just driven by charisma and passion. They excel because they leverage proven approaches, best practices, and templates that make them effective activists and organizers. Without these skills, many well-intentioned activists struggle to achieve their goals.

Remember Rosa Parks and her powerful act of resistance on the bus? That event wasn't a spontaneous moment; it was a well-planned, calculated "political action" that she learned about and prepared for at the Highlander Folk School. Successful leaders like her understood the techniques of nonviolent civil disobedience, which empowered the strategic and effective actions, marches, and boycotts of the Civil Rights Movement, which fundamentally reshaped our nation's policies and reality.

Today, as our society faces unprecedented challenges, our generation has a responsibility to drive deep, systemic transformations across political, financial, economic, social, and ecological systems. Just like the Civil Rights Movement and other successful revolutions, this change will be led by individuals who have been educated and empowered to be effective change-makers.

That's why we're thrilled to introduce you to the Local Stewards Academy–an online learning platform designed to provide activists and organizers like you with the knowledge and tools necessary to create lasting impact in your community.

Register Now

The Local Stewards Academy offers an impressive set of curricula that cover a wide range of essential topics. Whether you're looking to strengthen relationships within your community, contribute to local service projects, shape the civic agenda, or even pursue a career in politics, our courses will equip you with the core principles and action templates needed to succeed.

Each course is crafted by experts in the field and delivered in an engaging online format that allows you to learn at your own pace, from anywhere in the world. You'll have access to a wealth of resources, including video lessons and practical exercises, designed to enhance your understanding of the material and application of it in your home community. 

The fall program is just around the corner, starting on September 16th. This is a fantastic opportunity for you to unlock your potential as an effective activist and organizer, and we don't want you to miss out. So, what are you waiting for?

Click the link below to explore the incredible lineup of courses we have in store for you at Local Stewards Academy

(sneak-peak of online learning platform) 

By investing in your own leadership development today, you will be equipped to make the difference tomorrow. 

Imagine the impact you could have on your community and beyond. Together, we can create a better, more beautiful world.

Don't let this opportunity pass you by. Join the Local Stewards Academy today and take the next step towards becoming the change-maker you were meant to be.

NOTE: Patrons of the Omni-Win Project in will receive discounted or free direct access to my course, “Facilitation and Conflict Transformation.”

Become a Patron

Attention!!!
Facilitators, Mediators, Collaboration Professionals, Democracy Advocates, and concerned citizens!

Our democracy is in crisis, yet we seem to have the skills and tools to save our democracy.

It's time for us to come together to talk about how we can help bring the demos back into democracy. 

Omni-Win Project, in Partnership with PeoplePower.tv is hosting an event.
Join us:

How to Save Democracy: Civic Assemblies
A Facilitator Meet 'n' Greet

Wednesday, April 26, 5-7 pm PDT / 8-10 pm EDT

REGISTER NOW: bit.ly/facilitate-democracy

Learn about a tool for bringing participatory and deliberative decision-making into our democracy!

(This will be the first of a series, so please register even if you can’t attend this first event)

This event will feature a presentation and discussion about the promise of civic assemblies (aka lottery-selected panels, citizen juries, and deliberative democracy…) and will hopefully bear fruitful connections and projects. This is one of the most important things we can do right now. We look forward to being with you.

REGISTER NOW

Duncan Autrey
The Omni-Win Project

PS: I'd also like to introduce Omni-Win Project's newest collaborative partnership: PeoplePower.tv. There will be a lot more about this in the future, but for now check us out.