Rajmohan Gandhi, the grandson of India's founding father, honored me by asking me to write for his new magazine, We are One Humanity. The purpose of his initiative —indeed the purpose of this man's whole life—is to invite everyone to explore ways of preserving or restoring goodwill, human rights and democratic ideals in our world.
I'm reposting my article here:
BECOMING A CITIZEN PEACEBUILDER
I'm honored that Rajmohan Gandhi has invited me to submit some thoughts for his ambitious and much needed new publication. I’ve known Raj for many years, and I’ve always been amazed by and grateful for his clear thinking, passion and honesty.
And especially his courage—a quality of character that seems so absent these days, an absence that, in my view, is a primary driver behind the ignorance, injustice, and violence that today are tearing our world apart. It is writ large in places like Gaza but is often toxic in the communities we, in other parts of the world, call home.
If I have learned one seminal truth in the 82 years I’ve been on the planet, it’s this: we each shape our outer worlds by the way we live our inner ones. Wars, race riots, lethal inequalities, social media venom—none of this descends on us from some dark cloud over which we have no control. No, these disasters are the inevitable expressions of personal demons too many people lack the courage to confront.
A coward’s way out—an acceptance and justification of the expression of our dark sides—can seem so much easier than facing challenges head on. And when enough people fail this way, it becomes harder and harder for others to resist the tide. Harder and harder to have hope that our personal contributions to peace and justice can possibly have any effect on a world that often seems out of control. As a consequence, many people just try to limit the damage, protecting themselves and those close to them instead of going after first causes.
Courage can be complicated. As young man, I thought I was courageous and in a very limited, entirely physical sense, I was. I climbed big, dangerous mountains and, as a US Foreign Service Officer, I dodged bullets and bombs. I walked away unscratched from all of it, which only led me to increase the risks I was willing to take. Then came a decisive moment in a battle in Vietnam that forced me to finally accept the shallowness of a life based on satisfying my own needs for the next adrenaline rush and not giving a damn about anything or anyone else.
And so I began to change my life and the nature of the risks I was taking. I came to realize that the kind of courage I needed tested less my body than my soul. They include the risks of:
~ standing up for an unpopular idea when I knew I’d be criticized and could lose friends;
~ reaching out to someone who might not reach back;
~ committing to non-violence;
~ dealing with difficult people calmly and compassionately;
~ being honest with myself about my own mistakes and shortcomings—and apologizing when I'd caused hurt;
~ failing, especially in public, where I could be embarrassed or ridiculed.
What became clear is that risks like these, at least for me, were more difficult than physical risks but they were at the heart not just of successful leadership but of a successful life. This was true for me not just as an individual but in my increasingly responsible roles in public affairs. As a US representative at the United Nations, for example, I repeatedly risked my career, crossing my own government to push much harder than Washington was willing to go in support of initiatives for peace and justice in Asia, Africa and Cuba.
After I left government, I became a citizen peace-builder. I met with the Khmer Rouge to help forge a cease-fire in Cambodia. I helped avert a major strike in Canada, save what’s left of the Everglades and find long-term environmental solutions in the Pacific Northwest. For years I contributed to peace efforts in Israel/Palestine (efforts that got me put on George Bush’s No Fly List as a threat to US national security.)
In 1983 I joined The Giraffe Heroes Project (giraffe.org), a new nonprofit started by a remarkable woman named Ann Medlock in New York City. A gifted storyteller, Ann recognized—as people had for millennia—the incredible power of telling the stories of heroes as a way to inspire others to stick their own necks out to tackle tough public problems such as climate chaos, corruption, poverty, crimes against women and much more. Now a global movement, the Project has created a full tool kit for activists. a curriculum for kids and a global network of affiliates. As an early Board member said: “We teach courage.” My own role has expanded to books, blogs, podcasts and interviews, all centered on the whys and hows of taking risks for the common good.
The Project has now found and told the inspiring stories of over 1500 “Giraffe Heroes.” Watching them, I’ve asked, why do these heroes take such risks and work so hard to help other people? Nobody pays them to do what they do. Nobody orders them to do it. What pushes them to be so energetic, so daring, so inspiring? Where does their courage come from?
Over the years, I came to understand that what motivates the courageous actions of most Giraffe Heroes is a strong sense that what they’re doing is meaningful to them—that is, that it satisfies a personal sense of purpose at the core of their beings. It’s this deep conviction that helps generate the courage that drives them forward. It’s what makes them so effective in solving problems—and so inspiring to people who hear their stories.
Of course, it isn’t just Giraffe Heroes who are motivated by a personal sense of meaning.
Philosophers and spiritual leaders have been telling us for millennia that there’s no deeper human need and no more powerful yearning than to live a life we know is meaningful. We all want to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror and know that we’re on the planet for a reason, that we're not just taking up space.
Look to your own experience. Isn’t it true that the more meaning there is in the things you do, the more alive you feel? Like Giraffe Heroes, you may work very hard and there may be risks, but when you’re doing something you know is meaningful to you, you find also a deep well of courage you don’t always feel, an energy, a sense of excitement, a deep satisfaction of being in the right place at the right time. You’re inspiring to others, and they're attracted to join you, to follow your lead. You’re much more likely to get the results you want.
Do you know what I mean?
Think about it—when something you're doing is personally meaningful—a relationship, a job, an activity—you feel deeply that you're on the right path, you're committed to walking it, and you feel good about that. If there are risks involved in following that path, you’re able to see them not in isolation but as part of that larger path—that larger vision of impacts—that you already know is meaningful to you. When you see risks in this broader context, they don't go away, but they can seem less stone walls than speed bumps; they can seem more worth taking, and you become more courageous, confident and competent in taking them.
It’s a huge lesson—that the courage to take on risky and dangerous tasks can flow from the personal meaning those tasks have for you.
People gain meaning from many sources. As a young man I found meaning in dangerous adventures. Others find meaning, a least for a time, in money and power. The example from Giraffe Heroes, however, is that the most stable, long-term source of the meaning behind their courage is service—
~ helping solve tough public problems,
~ making life better for other people.
It’s the lesson I learned fighting apartheid at the United Nations. Part of my job there was to represent the United States on the Security Council committee that dealt with South Africa and apartheid, which, as you know, was a racist system subjugating Black South Africans. The UN was supposed to enforce an arms embargo on South Africa. It had been imposed because guns sold to the South African government in those years were used to enforce apartheid—to kill Blacks.
But the embargo leaked like a sieve. Why? Because there were huge amounts of money to be made in the arms trade, and the arms dealers had their friends in parliaments in Europe and in the US Congress.
I went to South Africa to see for myself. My visit began in the squalor and oppression of the black township of Soweto. I walked down garbage-strewn streets and felt the hate-filled stares of hundreds of Blacks boring into the back of my white head. I couldn’t blame them. The day ended with a diplomatic cocktail party in Johannesburg’s fanciest white suburb, in a mansion surrounded by iron fences and guard dogs.
Apartheid stank, as did the hypocrisy and corruption of the Western governments who let it continue.
Back at the United Nations, I resolved to do something. I ignored my instructions to not make waves and instead worked secretly for months to tighten that embargo, helping Third World countries increase their pressure against my own government. My plan worked. The UN adopted a tough new embargo, and in time it helped end apartheid.
At any time in this process I could have been fired. So why did I do it? Why did I take these risks? Where did I find the courage?
I took those risks because I realized that helping end the injustice of apartheid meant something to me at the deepest place in my soul, something more important than adventure or power. My courage flowed from that realization. If Black South Africans living in fear—like the ones who’d watched me on that walk through Soweto—could live in a just, safe world, that would more than justify risking my career.
The experience was like learning to swim.
I couldn't forget what I’d done.
I couldn’t forget how to do it.
I couldn’t forget the joy and fulfillment I felt in making a difference like that.
I’d found the meaning for my life and I’d found it, not by dodging bullets or hanging off a cliff by a rope or gaining power. I’d found it in service, in bettering the lives of others, in helping solve an awful problem in the world.
And I am hardly alone. For decades I’ve watched many other people, including Giraffe Heroes, find courage the same way, by finding the meaning of their lives through service, then using that discovery to fuel their commitment and energy to take risks and succeed—and to experience the satisfaction of living their lives to the fullest.
What is true for them is, or will be, true for you. You will find the courage to take risks to solve the public problems you care about by focusing on the meaning those actions have for you.
As you consider taking on any risk, at work or in your personal life, I urge you embrace those risks, not just to solve a significant problem, but to enhance the meaning of your own life.
As the poet Mary Oliver puts it, “Tell me what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” What are risks you could take right now to help make your community and the world a better place?
Consider the personal meaning of the outcomes you seek. Then get to work.