I Need to Be a Better Citizen

Beneath the chaos of Election Day, America is holding its breath. We’re quietly hoping that something might finally shift. Maybe this year will be different. But there’s an uneasy feeling that we’re caught in a loop. Our leaders, our institutions, even ourselves, all seem to be spinning in place, waiting for a change that never materializes.

If the pre-election polls are any indication, Americans remain entrenched in their political divide, each side convinced that our democracy itself is on the line. Like many, I’ve grown disgusted by the electoral process and the unacceptable choices we’re presented with, cycle after cycle.

It often feels like we’re left with two options: either to join the hyper-partisan screaming, where every disagreement becomes an existential threat, or to completely disconnect and disengage. If I’m being honest, I’ve increasingly leaned toward the latter. I was once obsessed with politics, elections, and American history. You know those classic yearbook superlatives, like “class clown” or “most likely to earn a million dollars?” I won “most likely to be president” not only in elementary school, middle school, and high school, but even within my political science department in college.

After undergrad, I immediately moved to Washington, D.C., and began my career on Capitol Hill. Back then, I admired leaders on both sides of the aisle who were serious about policy and thought compromise wasn’t a weakness but a virtue. Sure, there were plenty of “knuckleheads,” as Speaker John Boehner used to call them, but there were also plenty of hard-working, principled leaders who cared deeply about the institutions they served.

One of my first bosses, Congressman Greg Walden from Oregon, embodied that spirit. He devoted himself to serving the people he represented. He proved you could succeed in both the partisan political campaigns and the complex policy fights on Capitol Hill without losing focus on the job of working with his colleagues to improve people’s lives. It was the kind of leadership that gave me reason to believe the system could work if we had enough serious people willing to push it forward.

But since 2016, that hope has dwindled. Most of the principled legislators on both sides of the aisle have either been kicked out of office by radical primary challengers or simply retired because there was no longer a place for serious legislating on Capitol Hill. The list of senators and representatives I can genuinely respect grows shorter with each election cycle.

Of course, this is just my subjective measurement of the state of American politics, but I think it points to a simple fact that most Americans agree on: our leaders are no longer serious people.

These days, most politicians care more about building their social media profiles than governing. When I was on the Hill, most offices had three or four legislative staffers for every communications staffer. Now, that ratio is often reversed. Many offices function more like PR firms, crafting viral posts and soundbites instead of hammering out legislation. It’s not just frustrating, it’s dangerous. Social media rewards outrage, not reason.

This shift has deepened the toxic cycle of partisanship. Politicians now compete for viral attacks instead of solutions. Each party justifies anything its candidates say or do so long as it helps defeat the other side. When outrage is the currency, leaders become more interested in ideological purity and viral moments than in real governing.

I didn’t come into politics overly idealistic or naïve. While I loved The West Wing, I knew DC was much closer to Veep: power-hungry narcissists stumbling through their careers. Still, I held out hope that enough well-intentioned people were there to push the country forward.

Now, though, I’m forced to conclude that both parties, their leaders and their political machines, have fundamentally failed the American people.

I’ve gone from a hyper-engaged political junkie to someone who can barely stomach reading the news. There were many reasons I took a job in Europe last spring, but I won’t deny that the chance to escape this election was appealing.

I guess this is a mea culpa: I’ve let the loudest, most radical voices drown me out, giving me an excuse just to tune everything out and disengage. And I don’t think I’m alone in that. I still have hope that this disillusionment represents a real “silent majority” in America, one made up of those who have been silenced by hyper-partisans screaming at us to either fall in line or be labeled as the “enemy.”

So, what’s next? How can we break the cycle?

There are plenty of articles decrying the failures of national politics. Many urge us to look local, to get involved in city or county politics, to start building a better political system from the bottom up. That’s good advice, and I wholeheartedly agree with it. But I don’t think it’s enough. The problem is even deeper.

We don’t just need better leaders. We need better citizens. Americans, collectively, need to work on ourselves.

Yes, our leaders have failed us. But if I’m being honest with myself, I have failed at being a good citizen. We have all failed at being good citizens.

The change we need won’t be found in City Hall, any more than in the White House. It starts with how we show up in our everyday lives.

Being a good citizen isn’t just about knowing who’s in power or debating the latest issue. It’s about being a good listener, a curious thinker, and someone willing to extend patience and compassion even when it’s inconvenient. A good citizen is open-minded enough to reconsider their beliefs and learn from unexpected sources. In a world that rewards certainty and punishes ambiguity and doubt, that’s a tall order. But if we’re serious about change, maybe we need to start letting go of the impulse to always be right and embrace the quiet work of listening, thinking, and rethinking.

It’s easy to dismiss this as soft or idealistic, but history shows that real strength is anything but rigid. Abraham Lincoln famously filled his cabinet with political opponents who challenged him, believing that dissent led to better decisions. He invited debate, wrestling with his own beliefs and refining his principles as he led the country through its most divisive crisis. Lincoln understood that strength isn’t about clinging to ideology but about convictions sturdy enough to adapt and grow with the moment.

We don’t just need more Lincolns in the White House or Congress. We need them in our neighborhoods, schools, and churches. We need people who seek out challenging conversations, who surround themselves with others who disagree, who are willing to wrestle with their beliefs as they engage with their communities, raise their families, and grow in virtue. This kind of strength—humble, open, principled—isn’t just what we want from our leaders, it’s what we need as the foundation of our society.

So maybe that’s the challenge for this Election Day: not just to demand something better from our political parties and leaders, but to demand it from ourselves. To be the kind of people we want in our neighborhoods and in our country. People who treat civic responsibility as a calling, not a chore. Who don’t just vote but listen, don’t just advocate but understand. And maybe, in doing so, we’ll begin to see a different kind of change—one that goes far beyond the next four years.