This is a politically neutral blog, and indeed my vote is still up for grabs. However, I’d reflect on the big political news of the week–the fundraising figures–as follows. First, I believe that Senator Obama has struck a chord by promising a different kind of relationship between citizens and the government. He doesn’t promise to solve problems (which is almost always impossible for governments to do), but he proposes to collaborate with the American people, who are in a serious mood and are capable of working constructively together. Most political “professionals” (reporters, consultants, and others) cannot understand the deep appeal of this message. It reshuffles the political deck.

Second, hundreds of thousands of Americans made small contributions, and that is evidence that social networking sites and other technologies have dispersed power somewhat, at least compared to 20 years ago. That’s a good thing.

Third, however, it is a great pity that we have a “money primary.” It’s actually a double shame. It’s obviously unfortunate that money counts so much–and despite the small contributions, the median donor is surely quite wealthy. It’s also unfortunate that reporters feel they must cover matters like fundraising so intensively. They do so because they know that candidates who raise unexpectedly large amounts of cash have (all else being equal) greater chances of winning. I often quote CNN’s political director, Mark Hannon, who said in 1996 that his network conducted daily polls because they “happen to be the most authoritative way to answer the most basic question about the election, which is who is going to win.” The same assumption explains why reporters cover fundraising. But who will win is not the most basic question–not for a citizen. The most basic question for a citizen is: How are we going to address problems? A subsidiary question is: Which candidate should I vote for to help address our problems? It’s irrelevant who is most likely to win–although the press sometimes makes it quixotic to vote for candidates who are behind in the horse race.

It’s worth imagining a democracy in which people had quick access to the names and employers of all political donors–so that they could hunt for influence and corruption–but reporters were so busy covering issues and citizen’s work that they didn’t bother to mention the fundraising totals.

(Written after a long coalition meeting in Washington.) A few weeks ago, a family friend who teaches in the humanities at a large state university said, “I hear you’ve been writing about how everything I do is wrong.” That’s an exaggeration. It’s true that I’m not fully comfortable with the way we organize higher education. I’m not sure that big lecture classes are satisfactory opportunities for education, nor that we select and sort our students fairly. When I observe a lack of motivation and attention among college students, I blame it on the overall educational system, not on their character or on the professor’s skills as a communicator. Thus I’d argue that institutions should change–but I would never say that it’s a waste to lecture in the liberal arts.

What sticks with me, however, is not the summary of my views, but the key verb: “writing.” Professors ask each other, “What are you writing on?” Or (meaning the same thing), “What do you work on?”

I do write. This blog may be evidence that I type too much. I’ll admit to a case of cacoethes scribendi. But I would be unsatisfied if my only way of addressing a problem were to read and write about it. I don’t think you can learn enough about a social or institutional issue by reading; you must also listen, negotiate, observe, and experiment. By the same token, writing doesn’t make things happen. Books and articles can help to change opinions. They can certainly guide activists by analyzing complex problems. But they very rarely have an impact by themselves. If I wrote about what’s wrong with education, but could never help to organize a response, I’d be frustrated.

My book of that title now has its own website with some blurbs and cover art. It is on course to be published in June.

(Santa Ana Pueblo, NM) I feel pretty far from news and opinion out here in the desert, and for once unmoved to comment on any controversies, social issues, or moral dilemmas. We’re in a resort built on the land of the Tamaya Pueblo Indians, who own a majority stake in the hotel. Outside our window is a stretch of grass, a thin forest of cottonwoods, the Rio Grande, and then Sandia Mountain with snow on its craggy slopes. We’re at 5,000 feet, and Sandia rises another 5,000 feet above us. A warm wind whips across the vast open space. The night air is clear, dark, and cold.

After dinner, three men in enormous feathered headdress walked by, drumming. It turned out that they were not Pueblos, but visiting Aztecs from Mexico. A Native American elder from Oklahoma, here for the National Service Learning Conference, blessed us; I hoped we were worthy of his eloquent blessing and song. He asked the earth and water to protect us, and it was impossible not to recall the harm we do to them. Then a Pueblo from Tamaya, Shkeme Garcia, told us folktales and sang Indian reggae songs that he has also performed in New Zealand, Hawaii, and elsewhere among the world’s indigenous peoples. He spoke Keres, the language of Tamaya and some other pueblos, which is unfortunately not used by anyone under the age of 40.

There is no shortage of problems, issues, events, achievements, choices, and controversies in this place. But I am largely ignorant of them. What I see with my tourist’s eyes is sublime and apparently timeless.

(Near Albuquerque, NM) I’m at a retreat with “emerging leaders” in the field of service-learning. The Kellogg Foundation is behind this initiative, which aims to develop more culturally and ethnically diverse young leaders for a field that has been dominated by older white people. Many of the students who do service-learning in our schools (in other words, those who perform community service connected to academic learning) are minority youth. But the gatekeepers, standard-setters, and researchers are white and middle class. Kellogg and its main grantees–The National Youth Leadership Council and the National Service-Learning Partnership–are addressing this problem in a really serious way. They have identified dozens of diverse younger people in responsible positions within organizations, such as CIRCLE, that work on service-learning. They have paired each of these “emerging leaders” with a mentor. At the end of a two-year process, the emerging leader should have “emerged.” I’m a mentor, which is why I’m here.

Two quick observations occur to me after the introductory session. First, this kind of retreat is the antithesis of the hiring process that I complained about the other day. Instead of selecting one or two competitors for a single position (which inevitably requires comparative judgments), here we are celebrating and supporting everyone and trying to expand the circle. Such an effort is easy to parody–but important to do well.

Second, I have tip for people who direct nonprofits. (I try to implement this advice within my own organization and as a member of various boards.) One of the major self-interested motivations in the nonprofit world is fame–public acknowledgment and recognition. I presume that most people in the business world do not feel that motive as strongly, because even rather senior and powerful businesspeople often have hardly any presence on the Web. You cannot even find their biographies and photos on their own corporate websites. But people who work for nonprofits very often want the opportunities to make speeches, talk to reporters, publish, or see their profiles on a website.

Thus my tip is simple: empower as many of your employees as you can to speak and write publicly. They may not always express themselves as you would, but sometimes their version is better; and in any case, they have to learn from experience. Public recognition will make them happier and more satisfied than they would be otherwise, and you can thereby help them to emerge as leaders.