18

Public Narrative, Collective Action,

and Power

Marshall Ganz

The authors of this volume ask how discontented, but compliant, publics can
mobilize to demand political change. It is not obvious. Organized collective
action to challenge the status quo, as opposed to the occasional outburst of
resentment, does not "just happen." Nor does it occur as an automatic response
to the availability of tools described elsewhere in this book—citizen report
cards, public expenditure tracking, participatory budgeting, social audits,
right-to-information acts, and so on. Nor does it arise as a result of a provi
dential convergence of resources and opportunities, as often described by
social movement theorists.
Organized collectiveaction challenging the status quo—a social movement—
requires leadership that goes far beyond a stereotypical charismatic public
persona with whom it is often identified. Unable to rely on established bureau
cratic structures for coordination, evaluation, and action, such action depends
on voluntary participation, shared commitments, and ongoing motivation.
Movements must mobilize under risky conditions not only because well-
resourced oppositions often resist their efforts,but also because the undertaking
itself is fraught with uncertainty about how—and whether—it can happen in
the first place. The capacity of a social movement for effectiveaction depends
largely on the depth, breadth, and quality of leadership able to turn opportu
nity to purpose.
Mobilizing others to achieve purpose under conditions of uncertainty—
what leaders do—challenges the hands, the head, and the heart. As shown in
figure 18.1,the challengeof the "hands" is one of action, of learning, of adapt
ing, and of mastering novelskills. The challengeof the head is one of strategy,
273
274 Accountability through Public Opinion

Figure 18.1. Mobilization of Others

strategy

0fe*PerienSce
VAO>N Why
Af*£CTIV£ \
v0GO?- p*m6s

shared
understanding
leads to

action

hands

Source: Zac Willette and the author.

imagining how to transform one's resources into the power needed to achieve
one's purpose. The challenge of the heart is one of motivation, of urgent need
to act, and of hope for success, and the courage to risk it. This is the work of
public narrative, the focus of this chapter.
Public narrative is a leadership practice of translating values into action. It
is based on the fact that values are experienced emotionally. As such, they are
sources of ends worthy of action and the capacity for action. Narrative is the
discursive means we use to access values that equip us with the courage to
make choices under conditions of uncertainty, to exercise agency. A story is
constructed of a plot, character, and moral. A plot is initiated by a challenge
that confronts a character with a choice, which, in turn, yields an outcome.
Because we identify empathetically with the character, wc experience the emo
tional content of the moment—the values in play,not simply the ideas. Narra
tives thus become sources of learning, not only for the head, but also for the
heart. Public narrative links the three elements of self, us, and now: why I am
called, why we are called, and why we are called to act now. Far from new, this
framework was articulated by the lst-century Jerusalem sage, Rabbi Hillel,
who, in the Wisdom of theFathers, asks: If I am not for myself,who will be for
me? If I am for myself alone, what am I? If not now, when?1

Two Ways of Knowing: Why and How

Psychologist Jerome Bruncrargues that we interpret the world in two ways—
the analytic and the narrative (Bruncr 1986). When we cognitivcly map the
 Public Narrative, Collective Action, and Power 275

world, we identify patterns, discern connections, and hypothesize claims and

test them—the domain of analysis. But we also map the world affectivelyby
coding experiences, objects, and symbols as good or bad for us, fearful or safe,
hopeful or depressing, and so on.
When we consider action in the faceof uncertainty, we haveto ask ourselves
three questions: why must we act, how can we act, and what must we learn to
do. Creative analytic thinking can help us answer the how question—how do
we use resources efficiently to detect opportunities, compare costs, and so on.
We may need to learn new skills to answer the whatquestion.
But to answer the why question—why does it matter, why do we care, why
must we risk action—we turn to narrative. The why question is not simply
why we think we oughtto act, but rather why we mustact, what moves us, our
motivation, our values. Or, as St. Augustine put it, we find ways of going
beyond "knowing" the good as an ought to "loving the good" as a source of
motivation. (St. Augustine 1991).

Knowing Why: Emotion, Motivation, and Action

Because emotions are the medium through which we experience value, they
provide us with vital information about the way we ought to live our lives as
well as the motivation to live them in that way. To understand motivation—
that which inspires action—consider the word emotion and their shared root
word motor, to move. Psychologists argue that the information provided by
our emotions is partly physiological,as when our respiration changes or our
body temperature alters; pardy cognitivebecause we can describe what we feel
as fear, love, desire, or joy; and partly behavioral, as when we are moved to
advance or to flee, to stand up or to sit down. So, as figure 18.2 shows, our
values are sources of the emotional information that can produce action.
Moral philosopher Martha Nussbaum argues that, because we experience
values through our emotions, making moral choices in the absence of emo
tional information is futile (Nussbaum 2001). She is supported by data about
the experience of people afflicted with lesions on the amygdale, that part of the
brain central to our emotions. When faced with decisions, people with this
disability come up with one option after another, but they can never decide
because decisions ultimately are based on values. If we cannot experience
emotion, we cannot experience the values that orient us to our world. Thus,
our readiness to deliberate, our capacity to deliberate successfully, and our
ability to act on our decisions rest on how we feel.

Mobilizing Action
Leadership requires understanding that while some emotions can inhibit
mindful action, others can facilitate it. Explaining this relationship, political
scientistGeorgeMarcus points to two neurophysiologic systems—surveillance
276 Accountability through PublicOpinion

Figure 18.2.From Values to Action

values

emotion

Source: Zac Willette and the author.

and disposition (Marcus 2002). Our surveillance system compares what we

expect to see with what we do see, tracking anomalies that, when observed,
spark anxiety. Without this emotional cue, we operate out of habit, on auto
pilot. Anxiety is a way of saying to ourselves, "Hey! Pay attention! There's a
bear in the doorway!"
The big question is what we do about that anxiety (so we can figure out
what to do about the bear). Our dispositional system operates along a contin
uum from depressionto enthusiasm,or from despair to hope. If weexperience
anxiety in a despairing mode, our fearwillkick in, producing withdrawal, rage,
or freezing. However, hope inspirescuriosity, leading to exploration that can
yield learning and creative problem solving. So our readiness to consider
action, our capacity to consider it well,and our ability to act on our consider
ation rest on how we feel.
Leaders engage others in purposeful action by mobilizing those feelings
that facilitate action to trump feelings that inhibit action. Weoften hold con
flicting feelings,some of which are more salient at one time than at another. At
times, these feelings may have little to do with the present, but rather are a
legacy of emotional lessons we learned longago. Suppose that, as a four-year-
old child,you are playing on a swing set at a park when a bigger child tries to
kickyou off.You run to your parent for help,but your parent laughs it off. In
that moment, you are angry and embarrassed, convinced that your parent
does not care.You learned counting on others is a bad idea. Now, as an adult,
evaluating what to do about a paycut, this emotional lesson makes it unlikely
that you will join other workers to protest. You fear counting on others; you
mayeven tellyourself youdeserved that paycut.Andifyouarestillin the grips
 Public Narrative, Collective Action, and Power 277

of that fear when an organizer comes along and tells you that, with a union,
you could keep the employer from cutting your pay, you may see that orga
nizer as a threat. Similarly, the value some people place on not upsetting the
boss (teacher, parent, or employer) because of their dependency on that boss
may conflict with the value they place on self-respect when the boss does
something that violates their sense of self-respect. One person may become
angry enough to challenge his or her boss; another may decide to "swallow
their pride" or will resist the organizer who points out the conflict. Any resolu
tion can be costly, but one may serve an individual's interests better than
another.

Action Inhibitors and Action Facilitators

So the exercise of leadership often requires engaging people in an emotional

dialogue, drawing on one set of emotions (or values) that are grounded in one
set of experiences to counter another set of emotions (or values) that are
grounded in different experiences—a dialogue of the heart. This dialogue of
the heart, far from being irrational, can restore choices that have been aban
doned in despair.
As shown in figure 18.3, the major "action inhibitor" is inertia—operating
by habit and not paying attention. We process most of the information that
comes our way on "autopilot," and we respond as programmed. For much of
what we do, this is efficient. If something new is going on, however—something

Figure 18.3.Motivating Action

ACTION ACTION
INHIBITORS MOTIVATORS

inertia

apathy

fear

isolation

self-doubt

Source: Zac Willette and the author.

Note: Y.CM.A.D. = You Can Make A Difference.
278 Accountability through PublicOpinion

that might pose a threat or hold out promise—and we stay on autopilot, we

may not only miss an opportunity, but also wind up in real trouble.
We can counter inertia with urgency. Urgency can capture our attention,
creating the spacefor new action. But it is lessabout time than about priority.
My need to complete a problem set due tomorrow supplants a more impor
tant need to figureout what to do with the rest of life.An urgent need to attend
to a critically ill family member supplants an important need to attend the
next business meeting.
Commitment and concentration of energy are required to launch anything
new, and creating a sense of urgency often is a critical way to get the commit
ment that is required. Imagine that someone calls you and says that he is
recruiting for a 100-year plan to change the world. This is the beginning,and
he willcalla meetingsometime over the next six months. Would you be inter
ested in going to that meeting, whenever it happens? However,what if some
one calls about an electionyou careabout, with newsthat the campaignhas to
contact 3,000 targeted voters before Election Day, just one week away? This
person tellsyou that if 220volunteers contact 20 voters each, they can reach all
the votersand bring this electionhome— that if you come to the headquarters
at 6:00 tonight, you will meet the other volunteers and learn how to reach 20
keyvoters in your neighborhood.Areyou interested? Urgencyrecognizes that
"time is likean arrow." Because launchinganything new requirescommitment
and intense effort, urgency is often the wayto make it happen.
What about inertia's first cousin, apathy7. One wayto counter apathy is with
anger—not rage,but outrage or indignation with injustice.Anger often grows
out of experience of a contrast between the world as it is and the world as it
ought to be, how we feel when our moral order has been violated (Alinsky
1971).SociologistBillGamson describes this as using an "injustice frame" to
counter a "legitimacy frame"(Gamson 1992). Asscholarsof "moral economy"
have taught us, people rarely mobilize to protest inequality as such, but they
do mobilize to protest "unjust" inequality (Scott 1976). In other words, our
values, moral traditions, and sense of personal dignity function as critical
sourcesof the motivation to act.This is one reason that organizingisso deeply
rooted in moral traditions.
Wherecan we findthe courage to act in spite of our fear7. Tryingto eliminate
that to which we react fearfully is a fool's errand because it locates the source
of our fear outsideourselves, ratherthan withinour hearts. However, tryingto
makeourselves "fearless" is counterproductive if wewind up actingmore out
of "nerve than brain." Leaders sometimes prepare others for fear by warning
them that the opposition will threaten them with this and woo them with that.
The fact that these behaviors areexpected reveals the opposition as morepre
dictable and, thus, less to be feared.
What canwe do aboutfear? Achoice to actin spite of fear isthe meaning of
courage. Of all the emotions that helpus find courage, perhapsmostimportant
 Public Narrative, Collective Action, and Power 279

is hope. So where do you go to get some hope? One source of hope is experi
ence of a "credible solution," not only reports of success elsewhere, but also
direct experience of small successesand small victories. A source of hope for
many people is in their faith tradition, grounded in spiritual beliefs, cultural
traditions, and moral understandings. Many of the great social movements—
Gandhi, civil rights, and Solidarity—drew strength from religious traditions,
and much of today's organizing is grounded in faith communities.
Relationships offer another source of hope. Weall know people who inspire
hopefulness just by being around them. "Charisma" can be seen as the capacity
to inspire hope in others, inspiring others to believe in themselves. Many peo
ple have charisma, but some of us need to be encouraged to use it. Just as reli
gious belief requires a "leap of faith," Cornel West argues that politics requires
a "leap of hope" (West 1994). More philosophically, Moses Maimonides, the
Jewish scholar ofthe 15th century, argued that hope isbelief in the "plausibility
of the possible" as opposed to the "necessity of the probable." And psycholo
gists who explore the role of "positive emotions" give particular attention to
the "psychology of hope" (Seligman and Csikszentmihali 2000). In concert
with confidence and solidarity, hope can move us to act.
We can counter feelings of isolation with the experience of belovedness or
solidarity. This is the role of mass meetings, singing,common dress, and shared
language.This is why developing relationships with the people whom we hope
to mobilize is important. Becauseof the snowball effect,it is much easier to get
people to join others who are already active.
Finally, one of the biggest inhibitors is self-doubt: I cannot do it. People like
me cannot do it. We are not qualified, and so on. When we feel isolated, we fail
to appreciate the interests we share with others, we are unable to access our
common resources, we have no sense of a shared identity, and we feel power
less. We can counter self-doubt with YCMAD: You Can Make A Difference. The
best wayto inspire this belief is to frame what you do around whatpeople can
do, not what they cannot do. If you design a plan callingfor each new volun
teer to recruit 100people,and you provideno leads, training, or coaching,you
will only create deeper feelings of self-doubt.It is also important to recognize
specific people for specific contributions at specific times and in specific ways.
Recognition must be based on real accomplishment, however, not empty flat
tery.The idea is to spread accomplishment around and then recognize people
for thoseaccomplishments. There is no recognition without personalaccount
ability. Requiring accountability does not show lack of trust, but is evidence
that what one is doing really matters. Have you ever volunteered to walk a
precinct in a campaign? You are given a packet with a voter list and told to
mark the responses on the list and to bring it back when you are done. What
happens if you go out for four hours, do a conscientious job, and return to
headquarters ready to report, only to hear,"Oh, thanks a lot. Just throw it over
there in the corner. See you next week." What about all your work? Did it not
280 Accountability through Public Opinion

matter enough for anyone to debrief you about it, let alone mark it on a wall
chart and try to learn from it? Do you think you will go back "next week?"

Telling Your Public Story

Storytelling is the discursive form through which we translate our values into
the motivation to act. As shown in figure 18.4, a story is crafted of just three
elements: plot, character, and moral. The effect depends on the setting: who
tells the story, who listens, where they are, why they are there, and when.

Plot
A plot engages us, captures our interest, and makes us pay attention. "I got
up this morning, had breakfast, and came to school." Is that a plot? Why?
Why not?
How about the following: "I was having breakfast this morning when I
heard a loud screeching coming from the roof. At that very moment, I looked
outside to where my car was parked, but it was gone!" Now what is going on?
What is the difference?
A story begins. An actor is moving toward a desired goal. Then some kind
of challenge appears. The plan is suddenly up in the air. The actor must fig
ure out what to do. This is when we get interested. We want to find out what
happens.
Why do we care?

Figure 18.4. Elements of a Story

CHALLENGE
character

CHOICE

moral

Narrative Structure

Source: Zac Willette and the author.

 Public Narrative, Collective Action, and Power 281

Dealingwith the unexpected—smalland large—defines the texture of our

lives. No more tickets at the movie theater. Youare about to lose your job. Our
marriage is on the verge of break-up. We are constantly faced with the unex
pected, and what we are going to do. What is the source of the greatest uncer
tainty around us? Other people. The subject of most stories is about how to
interact with other people.
As human beings, we make choices in the present, based on remembering
the past and imagining the future. This is what it means to be an agent. When
we act out of habit, however, we do not choose; we just follow the routine. It
is only when the routines break down, when the guidelines are unclear, when
no one can tell us what to do, that we make real choices and become the
creators of our own lives, communities, and futures. Then we become the
agents of our own fate. These moments can be as frightening as they are
exhilarating.
A plot consists of just three elements: a challenge, a choice, and an outcome.
Attending to a plot is how we learn to deal with the unpredictable. Research
ers report that most of the time that parents spend with their children is in
storytelling—stories of the family, the child's stories, stories of the neigh
bors. Bruner (1986) describes this as agency training: the way we learn how
to process choices in the face of uncertainty. Because our curiosity about the
unexpected is infinite, we invest billions of dollars and countless hours in
films, literature, and sports events, not to mention religious practices, cul
tural activities, and national celebrations.

Character
Although a story requires a plot, it works only if we can identify with a charac
ter. Through our empathetic identification with a protagonist, we experience
the emotional content of the story. That is how we learn what the story has to
teach our hearts, not only our heads. As Aristode wrote of Greek tragedy in
ThePoetics, this is how the protagonist's experience can touch us and, perhaps,
open our eyes.Arguments persuade with evidence,logic, and data. Stories per
suade by this empathetic identification. Have you ever been to a movie where
you could not identify with any of the characters?Youfound it boring. Some
times we identify with protagonists who are only vaguely"like us"—like the
road runner (if not the coyote) in the cartoons. Other times, we identifywith
protagonists who are very much like us—as in stories about friends, relatives,
neighbors.Sometimes the protagonists of a story are us, as when we find our
selves in the midst of an unfolding story in which we are the authors of the
outcome.

Moral
Storiesteach.Wehaveall heard the ending "and that is the moral of the story."
Haveyou ever been at a party where someone starts telling a story and goes
282 Accountability through PublicOpinion

on ... and on ... and on ... ? Someone may say (or want to say), "Get to the
point!" We deploy stories to make a point, and to evoke a response.
The moral of a successfulstory is felt understanding, not simply conceptual
understanding. When stated only conceptually, many a moral becomes a
banality. We do not retell the story of David and Goliath because it teaches us
how to vanquish giants. What the story teaches is that a "little guy"—with
courage, resourcefulness, and imagination—can beat a "big guy," especially
one with Goliath's arrogance. A fearful character, out of anger, acts coura
geously and emerges victorious. We feel David's fear, anger, and courage, and
we feel hopeful for our own lives because he is victorious. Stories thus teach
how to manage our emotions when challenged—how to be courageous, keep
our cool, and trust our imagination— rather than the specific tactics to use in
any one case.
Stories teach us how to act in the "right" way. They are not simply examples
and illustrations. When stories are well told, we experience thepoint, and we
feel hope. It is that experience, not the words as such, that can move us to
action, because sometimes that is the point—we have to act.

Setting
Stories are told. They are not a disembodied string of words, images, and
phrases. They are not messages, sound bites, or brands, although these rhetori
cal fragments may reference a story. Storytelling is fundamentally relational.
As we listen, we evaluate the story, and we find it more or less easy to enter,
depending on the storyteller. Is it his or her story? We hear it one way. Is it the
story of a friend, a colleague, or a family member? We hear it another way. Is it
a story without time, place, or specificity?We step back. Is it a story we share,
perhaps a Biblestory? Perhaps we draw closer to one another. Storytelling is
how we interact with each other about values—how we share experiences with
each other, counsel each other, comfort each other, and inspire each other to
action.

Public Narrative: Story of Self—Story of Us—Story of Now

Leadership, especially leadershipon behalfof socialchange,often requirestell
ing a new publicstory, or adaptingan old one: a story of self, a story of us,and
a story of now.Asshown in figure 18.5, story of self communicates the values
that move us to lead. Astoryof uscommunicates values sharedbythosewhom
you hope to motivate to join us.Anda storyof now communicates the urgent
challenge to those values that demands action now. Participating in a social
action not only often involves a rearticulating of one's story of self, us, and
now, but also marks an entry into a world of uncertainty so daunting that
access to sourcesof hope is essential. To illustrate,I'll draw examples from the
first sevenminutes of then Senator Barack Obama's speech to the Democratic
National Convention in July2004.
 Public Narrative, Collective Action, and Power 283

Figure 18.5.Self, Us, Now

Public Narrative

Source: Zac Willette and the author.

Story of Self
Telling one's Story of Self is a way to share the values that define who you are—
not as abstract principles, but as lived experience. We construct stories of self
around choice points—moments when we faced a challenge, made a choice,
experienced an outcome, and learned a moral. We communicate values that
motivate us by selecting from among those choice points, and recounting what
happened. Because storytelling is a social transaction, we engage our listener's
memories as well as our own as we learn to adapt our story of self in response
to feedback so the communication is successful. Similarly, like the response to
the Yiddish riddle that asks who discovered water—"I don't know, but it wasn't
a fish"—the other person often can "connect the dots" that we may not have
connected because we are so within our own story that we have not learned to
articulate them.
We construct our identity, in other words, as our story. What is utterly
unique about each of is not a combination of the categories (race, gender,
class, profession, and marital status) that include us, but rather, our journey,
our way through life, our personal text from which each of us can teach
(Hammack 2008).
A story is like a poem. A poem moves not by how long it is, nor by how
eloquent or complicated. A story or poem moves by evokingan experience or
moment through which we grasp the feeling or insight the poet communi
cates. Because we arc gifted with episodic memory, based on our ability to
284 Accountability through Public Opinion

visualize past experience, we can imagine ourselves in the scene described

(Tulving 2002). The more specific the details we choose to recount, the more
we can move our listeners, the more powerfully we can articulate our values,
what moral philosopher Charles Taylorcallsour "moral sources."(Taylor 1989,
p. 91). Likea poem, a story can open a portal to the transcendent. Tellingabout
a story is different from telling a story. When we tell a story, we enable the lis
tener to enter its time and placewith us, seewhat we see,hear what we hear, feel
what we feel. An actor friend once told me the key was to speak entirely in the
present tense and avoid using the word "and": I step into the room. It is dark. I
hear a sound. Etc.
Some of us may think our personal stories don't matter, that others won't
care or that we should not talk about ourselves so much. On the contrary, if we
do public work we have a responsibility to give a public account of ourselves:
where we came from, why we do what we do, and where we think we're going.
In a role of public leadership, we really don't have a choice about telling our
story of self. If we don't author our story, others will. And they may tell our
story in waysthat we may not like,not because they are malevolent, but because
others try to make sense of who by drawing on their experience of people
whom they consider to be like us.Aristode argued that rhetoric has three com
ponents—logos, pathos, and ethos—and this is ethos. The logos is the logic of
the argument. The pathos is the feeling the argument evokes. The ethos is the
credibility of the person who makes the argument—his or her story of self.
Social movements are often the "crucibles" within which participants learn
to tell new stories of self as we interact with other participants. Stories of self
can be challenging because participation in social change is often prompted by
a "prophetic" combination of criticality and hope. In personal terms, this
means that most participants have stories of both the world's pain and the
world's hope. And if we haven't talked about our stories of pain very much, it
can take a while to learn to manage it. But if others try to make sense of why
we are doing what we are doing and we leave this piece out, our account will
lack authenticity, raising questions about the rest of the story.
In the early days of the women's movement, people participated in "con
sciousness raising"group conversations that mediated changesin their stories
of self, who they were, as a woman. Stories of pain could be shared, but so
could stories of hope (Polletta 2006).In the civil rights movement, blacksliv
ing in the DeepSouth who feared claiming the right to vote had to encourage
one another to find the courage to make the claim,which, once made, began
to alter how they thought of themselves and how they could interact with their
children, as well as with white people, and each other. (Cuoto 1993).
In Senator Obama's "story of self," he recounts three key choice points: his
grandfather's decision to send his son to America to study; his parents'
"improbable"decisionto marry; and his parents' decisionto name him Barack
("blessing"), an expression of faith in a tolerantand generous America. Healso
 Public Narrative, Collective Action, and Power 285

references his grandfather's choice to enlist and serve in "Patton's army" and
his grandmother's choice to "work on a bomber assembly line AND raise a
family." Each choice communicates courage, hope, and caring. He tells us
nothing of his resumed preferring to introduce himselfby telling us where he
came from, and who made him the person that he is, so that we might have an
idea of where he is going.

Story of Us
A public story is not only an account of the speaker's personal experience. All
self stories are "nested," including fragments of other stories drawn from our
culture, our faith, our parents, our friends, the movies we have seen, and the
books we have read. Although individuals have their own stories, communi
ties, movements, organizations, and nations weave collective stories out of
distinct threads. Our individual threads intersected on the day that John
F. Kennedywas assassinated or the day we saw the planes hit the Twin Towers.
We shared a crisis, and we learned the morals about how we are to act and how
life is to be lived. Points of intersection become the focus of a shared story—
the waywe link individual threads into a common weave. A Story of Us brings
forward the values that move us as a community.
How does the storyteller become part of this larger story? Learning to tell a
story of us requires deciding who the "us" is—whichvalues shape that identity
and which are most relevant to the situation at hand. Stories then not only
teach us how to live, but also teach us how to distinguish who "we" are from
"others," reducing uncertainty about what to expect from our community. In
the midst of treacherous weather, earthquakes, disease, and other environ
mental sources of great unpredictability, the behavior, actions, and reactions
of the people among whom we live, and our shared stock of stories, give us
greater safety.
Our cultures are repositories of stories. Community stories about chal
lenges we have faced, why we stood up to them—our values and our shared
goals—and how we overcame them are woven throughout our political beliefs
and religioustraditions. Wetell community stories again and again as folk say
ings, popular songs, religious rituals, and community celebrations (for exam
ple, Easter, Passover,and the 4th of July). Just like individual stories, collective
stories can inspire hope or generate despair. We also weave new stories from
old ones. The Exodus story, for example, servedthe Puritans when they colo
nized North America, but it also served Southern blacks claiming their civil
rights in the freedom movement (Maclntyre 2001).
Organizations that lack a "story" lack an identity, a culture, core values that
can be articulatedand drawn on to motivate. Leaders learn to tell the story of
us—the storyof their organization—by identifying the "choice points"of the
organization's journey, recounting experiences that communicate the values
embedded in the work of the organization.
286 Accountability through PublicOpinion

As figure 18.5 shows, our stories of self overlap with our stories of us. We
participate in many us's: family, community, faith, organization, profession,
nation, or movement. A story of us expresses the values, the experiences,
shared by the us we hope to evoke at the time. A story of"us" not only articu
lates the values of our community, but also can distinguish our community
from another, thus reducing uncertainty about what to expect from those with
whom we interact. Socialscientists often describe a "story of us" as a collective
identity (Somers 1992,1994).
For a collection of people to become an "us" requires a storyteller, an inter
preter of shared experience. In a workplace, for example, people who work
beside one another but interact little, don't linger after work, don't arrive early,
and don't eat together never develop a story of us. In a social movement, the
interpretation of the movement's new experience is a critical leadership func
tion. And, like the story of self, it is built from the choice points—the found
ing, the choices made, the challenges faced, the outcomes, and the lessons it
learned.
In Senator Obama's speech, he moves into his "storyof us" when he declares,
"My story is part of the American story," and proceeds to list values he shares
with his listeners—the people in the room, the people watching on television,
the people who will read about it the next day.And he begins by going back to
the beginning, to choices made by the founders to begin this nation, a begin
ning that he locates in the Declaration of Independence—a repository of the
value of equality.

Story of Now
Stories of Now articulate the challenges we face now, the choices we are called
upon to make, and the meaning of making the right choice. Stories of Now are
set in the past, present, and future. The challenge is now; we are called on to act
because of our legacy and who we have become, and the action that we take
now can shape our desired future.
These are stories in which we are the protagonists. We face a crisis, a chal
lenge. It is our choice to make. We have a story of hope, if we make the right
choice. The storyteller among us whom we have authorized to "narrativize"
this moment finds a way to articulate our crisis and challenge as a choice,
reminds us of our moral resources (our stories—stories of our family, our
community, our culture, and our faith), and offers a hopeful vision we can
share as we take our first stepson the journey.
A story of now articulates an urgent challenge—or threat—to the values
that we share that demands action now. What choice must we make? What is
at risk? Andwhere's the hope? In a storyof now, weare the protagonists and it
is our choices that shape the outcome. We draw on our "moral sources" to find
the courage, hope, empathyperhaps to respond.A most powerful articulation
ofa storyof now was Dr. Martin Luther King's speech delivered in Washington,
D.C., on August 23,1963, often recalled as the"I Have a Dream"speech. People
 Public Narrative, Collective Action, and Power 287

often forget that what preceded the dream was a nightmare: the consequence
of white America's failure to make good on its promissory note to African
Americans. King argued the moment was possessed of the "fierce urgency of
now" because this debt could no longer be postponed (King 1963). If we did
not act, the nightmare would only grow worse—forall of us—never to become
the dream.
In a story of now, story and strategy overlap because a key element in hope
is a strategy—a credible vision of how togetfrom here to there. The "choice"
offered cannot be something such as"we must all choose to be better people" or
"we must all choose to do any one of this list of 53 things" (which makes each
of them trivial). A meaningful choice is more like "we all must all choose: Do
we commit to boycotting the busses until they desegregate or not?" Hope is
specific, not abstract. What's the vision? When God inspires the Israelites in
Exodus, he doesn't offer a vague hope of "better days," but describes a land
"flowing with milk and honey" (Exodus 3:9) and what must be done to get
there. A vision of hope can unfold a chapter at a time. It can begin by getting
that number of people to show up at a meeting that you committed to do. You
can win a "small" victory that shows change is possible. A small victory can
become a source ofhope if it is interpreted aspart of a greater vision. In churches,
when people have a "new story" to tell about themselves,it is often in the form
of "testimony"—a person sharing an accountof movingfrom despair to hope,
the significance of the experience strengthened by the telling of it. Hope is not
to be found in lying about the facts, but in the meaning we give to the facts.
Shakespeare's "KingHenry V"stirs hope in his men'shearts by offeringthem a
different view of themselves. No longerare theya few bedraggled soldiersled by
a young and inexperienced king in an obscure corner of France who is about to
be wiped out by an overwhelming force. Now they are a "happy few," united
with their king in solidarity, holding an opportunity to grasp immortality in
their hands, to become legends in their own time—a legacy for their children
and grand children (Shakespeare, Henry V, Act IV, Scene 3). This is their time!
The storyof now isthat moment in whichstory (why) and strategy(how) over
lapand in which, aspoet Seamus Heaney (1991) writes, "Justice can riseup,and
hope and history rhyme." And for the claim to be credible, the action must
begin right here, right now, in this room, with action each one of us can take.
It's the story of a credible strategy, with an account of how, startingwith who
and where we are,and how we can, step-by-step, get to where we want to go.
Our action can call forth the actions of others, and their actions can call others,
and together these actions can carrythe day. It's like Pete Seeger's old protest
song,"One Man's Hands," whichremindsus that the targets of social change—
from prison walls to unaccountable governments—cannot fall at the hands of
anyone person,but rather requirethe concerted hands of a collectivity.
SenatorObama moves to his"story of now"with the phrase,"There is more
work left to do." After we have shared in the experience of values we identify
with America at itsbest, he confronts uswith the fact that theyare not realized
288 Accountability through PublicOpinion

in practice. He then tells stories of specific people in specific placeswith spe

cific problems.Aswe identifywith each of them, our empathy reminds us of
pain we have felt in our own lives. But, he also reminds us, all this could change.
And we know it could change. And it could change because we have a way to
make the change, if we choose to take it. And that way is to support the election
of Senator John Kerry. Although that last part didn't work out, the point is that
he concluded his story of now with a very specific choice he calls upon us to
make.
Through public narrative, leaders—and participants—can move to action
by mobilizing sources of motivation, constructing new shared individual and
collective identities, and finding the courage to act.

Celebrations

We do much of our storytelling in celebrations. A celebration is not a party. It

is a way that members of a community come together to honor who they are,
what they have done, and where they are going—often symbolically. Celebra
tions may occur at times of sadness, as well as times of great joy. Celebrations
provide rituals that allowus to join in enacting a vision ofour community—at
least in our hearts. Institutions that retain their vitality are rich in celebrations.
In the Church, for example, Mass is"celebrated."Harvard's annual celebration
is called Graduation and lasts an entire week.
Storytelling is at its most powerful at beginnings—for individuals, their
childhood; for groups, their formation; for movements, their launching; and
for nations, their founding. Celebrations are a way we interpret important
events, recognize important contributions, acknowledge a common identity,
and deepen our sense of community. The way that we interpret these moments
begins to establish norms, create expectations, and shape patterns of behavior,
which then influence all subsequent development. We draw on them again and
again. Nations institutionalize their founding story as a renewable source of
guidance and inspiration. Most faith traditions enact a weeklyretellingof their
story of redemption, usually rooted in their founding. Well-told stories help
turn moments of great crises into moments of"new beginnings."

Conclusion

Narrative allows us to communicate the emotional content of our values. Nar

rative is not talking "about" values; rather, narrative embodies and communi
cates those values. It is through the shared experience of our values that we can
engage with others; motivate one another to act; and find the courage to take
risks, explore possibility, and face the challenges we must face. Public narra
tive, understood as a leadership art, is thus an invaluable resource to stem the
tides of apathy, alienation, cynicism, and defeatism. Stories, strategically told,
 Public Narrative, Collective Action, and Power 289

can powerfully rousea sense of urgency; hope;anger; solidarity; and the belief
that individuals, acting in concert, can make a difference.

Note
1. As noted by Pirkei Avot in Sayings of theJewish Fathers (also translated as"Ethicsof the
Fathers"). Seehttp://www.sacred-texts.com/jud/sjf/,which is a translation from 1897by
CharlesTaylor.

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