Journalist Monica Guzman leaned across the table in the coffee shop where we were sitting; she was excited to tell me the story she was about to share.
This article is based on a speech I gave at the University of Washington’s political science graduation ceremony in June 2019.
Monica told me about a road trip she led a few months after the 2016 presidential election. She took about 20 King County residents to Sherman County, Oregon. Sherman County is tucked up against the Columbia River, just east of the Cascade Mountains. It’s wheat country with a population of about seventeen hundred.
Seventy-four percent of Sherman County voters went for Donald Trump; 74% of King County voters voted for Hillary Clinton. Sherman County voted exactly the opposite of our county.
Monica’s road trip was designed to bring people from these two counties together to share their thoughts, their perspectives, their stories. She wanted to prompt discussion between people with very different political views.
As Monica told me her story, the comments of one wheat farmer over lunch made sense to me. He told the group from King County, “you don’t know how this bread came about . . . you don’t understand the soil, the toil, the oil that was necessary for this bread.” That farmer was probably very right; we generally don’t know where our food comes from or how it’s made.
There was lots of learning going on during that road trip as urbanites broke bread with rural farmers. They told stories about their families, their work, the sports teams they follow, and, yes, a bit about their politics.
Monica organized the trip because she wanted to see whether people could overcome their political biases, whether they could bridge the divide, whether they could see beyond themselves in order to strengthen the common good . . . to build community . . . to seek understanding . . . to strengthen and save democracy.
We certainly need this kind of work today, don’t we? There is a sharp divide in our country, and it’s tearing us apart, ripping the social fabric.
We see it between the political parties, but we also see it between people as documented in Robert Putnam’s Bowling Alone, first published 19 years ago. We have become disconnected from one another. To put it another way, we have built our own little forts to protect ourselves from others, especially those who don’t look like us, don’t talk like us, or don’t share the same values or beliefs.
Being alone, some of us think, feels better; it enables an “us” versus “them” mentality.
What’s happened over the past few decades—growing economic inequality, racism, intergenerational poverty, education underachievement, and many other social ills—has heightened our separation from one another. We’re not just bowling alone, we’re eating alone, we’re playing alone, we’re worshipping alone, we’re voting alone, and we only let others in if they are like us.
Of course, this has a very damaging, corrosive effect on democracy because democracy requires participation, engagement, and the rubbing together of ideas and differences with others, so that ideas are refined and improved, and differences are better understood in favor of the common good.
Especially today, with the rise of authoritarian movements and leaders around the world, and, yes, right here in our country, protecting democracy should be an important focus for all of us.
So, how should we respond? What should we do? For me, it’s about learning from each other; it’s about telling stories . . . stories designed to lift us up and motivate us to action.
We learn through stories, don’t we? Whether it’s reading about others or listening to someone tell their story, we learn through stories. Stories can be powerful. They can shape our thinking; they can motivate us to action.
We all have a story to tell—stories of accomplishment, stories of loss and pain, stories filled with joy, stories with purpose.
What’s your story? How will your story unfold now that you are so prepared for life, so filled with knowledge and perspective from your time here as a Husky?
Monica wanted to strengthen the common good by bringing people together because she understood that when we dig deep, we find that we actually have more in common than we think. She understood that building community and relationships—building the common good—actually strengthens democracy.
So, I’m going to tell you more stories.
About four years ago, Dick Spady passed away. He was 92, and the mark he made on Seattle will last for generations, and that’s because Dick was the founder of Dick’s Drive-In, a Seattle institution that is beloved by all of us who grew up here.
Dick Spady was a very successful businessman who loved to make a profit and then give back.
Dick’s serves the same hamburgers, milkshakes, hand-cut fries, and ice cream they have served for decades. The last substantial menu change was in the early 1970s. They only started accepting credit cards in late 2016. Dick Spady knew his product, and it didn’t change much, and neither did his company’s values.
Dick’s is a fast-food place to eat, but you’d never know it by how they treat their employees. The starting wage is $17 an hour with regular merit raises. All managers are promoted from within the workforce. Dick’s workers get full health insurance; they get a 401K with a 50% match from Dick’s. Workers can access up to $9,000 per year per employee to help cover child care and college tuition. And, if employees want to volunteer in the community, Dick’s pays their regular wage for some of those volunteer hours.
Dick Spady knew the value of his employees. He honored them. He treated them well. He took care of them. Dick Spady was a businessman, and a very successful one at that, but he also understood the value of serving the common good; going the extra mile to give back to the city that helped him succeed.
Dick Spady was a 21st-century business leader, recognizing that business today is so much more than growing a company or making a profit. It’s about the common good, protecting our values, and honoring workers through good pay, good benefits, and good working conditions.
Dick Spady isn’t with us any longer, but his story continues to be told. The next time you stop by to get that hamburger and milkshake, you’ll remember Dick Spady and the difference he made in our city.
How will your story unfold?
As an elected official in city government, I had the opportunity to do my part to strengthen the common good. And, believe me, it was extremely gratifying. Here’s a few examples of why.
Seattle has the only municipal government-sponsored preschool program in the United States that meets all 10 national quality standards. Seattle voters have generously supported the continued expansion of this important investment in our children. When I visit those preschool classrooms today and see those little kiddos planning their day, completing their projects, building their social-emotional skills, I’m so grateful I was in a position to advance the legislation that got it all started . . . building the common good.
Or, I think of the gun violence research we funded; the first city in the country to dig deep into the harms of gun violence. And when we got the research findings back from the UW researchers, we adopted a special tax on the sale of firearms and ammunition, then dedicated those tax proceeds to gun violence prevention and ongoing research . . . Building the common good.
Or, the legislation we worked on for several years to mandate that affordable housing be provided with every commercial or multi-family building project in the city. An economically integrated and diverse city is a stronger city . . . building the common good.
As I look back over my life, my time at City Hall was the best job I ever had because what I accomplished there was not about me; it was all about strengthening the common good, building community, caring for the poor, protecting the marginalized, making Seattle a great place to raise a family, start a business, and create jobs.
Maybe someday, you will seek public office and have the privilege of public service, strengthening the common good.
In today’s acrimonious and divisive political environment, it is very important to remind ourselves of the value of relationships, building bridges, seeking understanding, strengthening the civic institutions that protect us and bring us justice in spite of our differences.
You can write common good-building elements into your story. And, believe me, you can do this part-time, full-time, all the time.
When you vote as an informed voter, you are strengthening the common good.
When you are willing to speak out against the demeaning and damaging nature of today’s political discourse, you are strengthening the common good.
When you refuse to look the other way when you witness harassment, or racism, or the degradation of women, you are strengthening the common good.
When you stand up to bullies and defend the marginalized, defend our most vulnerable neighbors, you are strengthening the common good.
When you stand with and support our LGBTQ and Trans friends, you are strengthening the common good.
When you act with integrity in business and in your relationships with others, you are strengthening the common good.
When you love your neighbor as yourself, you are strengthening the common good.
This is the kind of common good-building work that will keep Seattle and America strong, safe, and healthy. And when you do this, when you see your own story unfolding in service to the common good, you will bring joy and authenticity to your life.
You know why? Because our culture yearns for people like this, people who will act with purpose beyond themselves, people who believe in something bigger than themselves.
Let me close with one more story.
Sharon Okamoto leads the Seattle Urban Academy. It’s a school in south Seattle dedicated to serving kids who have been discarded, marginalized . . . children who have heard “you’ll never amount to anything,” or from a teacher, “you will never graduate from high school,” or, shockingly, from a parent, “I can’t wait ‘til you’re out’a the house.”
Sixty-five percent of Sharon’s students have either been incarcerated themselves or have a family member in prison. Fifty percent of her students are the first in their family to graduate from high school. Almost all are students of color.
Yet, Sharon describes these students as courageous; she calls them God’s masterpieces. She sees her work as preparing these kids for college and career, so they can assume positions of leadership in our community.
When I talk with Sharon, I quickly see the respect and dignity she and her staff give these students.
And what Sharon and her colleagues do really works. Ninety-five percent graduate from high school, far above the city’s overall graduation rate. Ninety-one percent go on to college or full-time employment.
Sharon has taken a side, the side of children who have been pushed aside. Sharon has identified an antidote to how our culture has let these kids down. And that antidote is love, acceptance, affirmation of their humanness and their inherent talents and abilities, and educational excellence that pulls them back in and pushes them up. Sharon is building the common good.
Monica Guzman brought people from King and Sherman counties together to share their stories. I doubt many opinions were changed, but that road trip did create understanding and respect.
Dick Spady didn’t just see his own profit margin; he saw the inherent value of his employees and made them the best compensated fast food workers in the city, and then, on top of that, he covered their costs for childcare or their college tuition.
Sharon Okamoto didn’t just see the messy lives of her students; she saw kids loaded with potential, poured herself into them, and then watched them soar.
These are role models of strengthening the common good . . . just what democracy needs.
I look forward to seeing how your stories will unfold. How you will strengthen the common good. How you will help save democracy. Put your mind to it; I think you will be amazed at what you are able to do.
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