The battle between facts and lies, truth and untruth, is one of the most pressing issues democracies face.
Peter Pomerantsev, author and a senior fellow at the London School of Economics and the SNF Agora Institute at Johns Hopkins University, joins The McCourtney Institute for Democracy's podcast, "Democracy Works," to discuss the scope of the problem and how to move forward.
In 2020, my friend and colleague Dr. Terrence Robinson died suddenly and unexpectedly of COVID. For five years, we had built a youth apprenticeship program together in Cleveland, raised more than half a million dollars, and trained more than 200 young people. Terrence was Black. I am Jewish. The whole time, I wanted to talk with him about the things that sat quietly underneath our friendship: race, religion, history, privilege. I never did, because I was afraid of saying the wrong thing, and the negative ramifications of saying something ignorant in the workplace. Then he was gone, and the conversation I kept postponing was gone with him.
I think about that silence often, because it is the same silence I now see between two communities that once helped change this country together.
Black and Jewish Americans marched, organized, and bled for civil rights side by side. That partnership was not sentimental. It was strategic, and it worked. Somewhere along the way it went cold. Today antisemitism and anti-Black racism are both climbing, and the alliance that once confronted them together has thinned to a memory. Two communities that are far stronger together keep facing hate alone.
We tend to treat this kind of fracture like a weather event. We wait for the storm, then we respond. A hate crime, a viral video, a campus blowing up, and suddenly there are statements, task forces, and emergency convenings. Institutions rush in after trust has already collapsed and ask people who barely know each other to solve a crisis together. It rarely works, because you cannot build a relationship in the middle of an emergency. You can only spend the trust you already have.
Here is the idea I want to put on the table. Relationships are civic infrastructure. They are as real as roads and as load-bearing as any institution, and like all infrastructure, they have to be built before you need them.
That is the whole premise of Rekindle, the organization I co-founded in Cleveland in 2021 alongside my co-founder Charmaine Rice. Our model is not complicated. We bring Black and Jewish adults together for 15 hours of honest, structured dialogue across five sessions. We create a space where people can ask the questions that are on their minds and hearts, so they don’t fall victim to that same silence and fear that I did. During the three-hour Rekindle workshops, we put power, privilege, race, religion, Israel, and shared history on the table and let people wrestle with them in the same room. Between sessions, Fellows host one another in their homes, their synagogues, and their churches. We take people from complete strangers who would never meet to lifelong friends and, hopefully, long-term collaborators towards building a more just and equitable society.
The obvious objection is that this is nice, but dialogue programs rarely have a serious impact. As a lifelong fundraiser, I know the importance of tangible metrics, so we built proof in from the first cohort. We survey every Fellow before, immediately after, and six months later, and this year we contracted with SSRS, a leading independent research firm, to test our results against someone other than us.
The findings are hard to argue with. Before Rekindle, 31 percent of Fellows saw themselves as bridge-builders between the Black and Jewish communities. Afterward, 71 percent did (+38 to 40 percent for both communities). The share who felt equipped to have difficult conversations about race rose from 63 percent to 89 percent. And 74 percent developed at least one deep, meaningful relationship with someone they would never otherwise have met. This is not a warm feeling that fades by Monday. Since their cohorts ended, 56 percent of Fellows have publicly advocated for the other community, and nearly all have taken at least one concrete action together.
In other words, you can manufacture trust on purpose, at scale, and it holds. That should be one of the most useful facts in American civic life right now.
The relationships also travel. What started as one cohort of friends around a table in Cleveland is now 20 cities and more than 475 alumni, all on a budget of roughly $450,000. People are hungry to get out from behind their screens and into a real, meaningful conversation. With 12 cities running Fall Rekindle cohorts, we hope that over 150 of our fellow Americans will create new relationships that they never knew were possible.
So this is my argument to anyone who cares about repairing democracy. Stop treating relationship-building as the soft, optional part of civic work. It is the foundation everything else stands on. Fund it before the crisis, not after. Get our communities to stop working in parallel, and start working in partnership. We’ve seen that by building trust when things are calm, we can weather the storm when things get tense. A city where Black and Jewish leaders already know each other, already trust each other, and have already practiced the hard conversations is a city that can absorb a shock without coming apart. That is what infrastructure does. It holds under load.
I never got to have that conversation I wanted to have with Terrence. But I have watched hundreds of people have theirs, and I have watched what those conversations build. We’re just getting started with repairing our broken country, one interfaith relationship at a time.
Matt Fieldman is the co-founder and executive director of Rekindle, a national nonprofit that rebuilds the historic partnership between Black and Jewish Americans through sustained, structured dialogue. Founded in Cleveland in 2021, Rekindle operates in 20 cities and has graduated more than 475 alumni Fellows. He lives in Cleveland with his wife Alyson, their three kids, and their rescued mutt, Mojo.
An 82-year-old and 24-year-old bonded over composting—and discovered shared roots, values, and a friendship that broke every generational stereotype.e
Every day, we cross paths with people whose lives seem completely different from our own. We exchange polite greetings with neighbors, chat briefly with acquaintances, and pass strangers without ever learning their stories. Yet beneath the surface, we often share more than we realize. Sometimes, all it takes is one conversation. Jean and Bella, 82 and 24 respectively, discovered this through their interest in composting.
Bella regularly attended a Sunday morning "Cookies and Conversation" intergenerational discussion group at Hebrew SeniorLife, where Jean lives in Brookline, MA. The two had spoken before, but only in passing. Like many people meeting someone from a different generation, Bella wasn't always sure how to bridge the gap.
"At the beginning, I felt like it was complicated to figure out conversation topics for myself and people of different generations," Bella admitted. "I was overthinking it."
It was a feeling many people can relate to. Starting a conversation with someone can feel intimidating when we assume our experiences are too different from theirs. We worry about saying the wrong thing, choosing the right topic, or having enough in common. However, Bella soon realized those assumptions were creating barriers.
The two were paired through The Legacy Project's Changemaker Fellowship. What began as polite introductions gradually became an unbreakable friendship filled with inside jokes and a shared curiosity about each other's lives.
"Now I don't overthink so much," she said, "because we have a lot in common."
Together, they decided to center their fellowship around a composting initiative at Jean's residential community. For years, Jean had organized Earth Day sustainability programming for residents. When the fellowship coincided with this year's Earth Day event, she saw an opportunity to turn an educational discussion into a hands-on project with a lasting impact.
With support from the fellowship, Jean and Bella provided residents with compost containers and compostable bags, encouraged neighbors to collect food scraps, and helped make composting an easy part of everyday life. What had once seemed intimidating became practical, accessible, and something the community could do together.
The project also transformed Bella's own habits. She had wanted to compost and start a garden for years, but those goals remained dormant until she began working alongside Jean.
"Thanks to Jean's great composting tip of keeping a small bucket in the fridge," Bella said, "my family has started composting."
Bella also planted a small garden of her own and hopes to help grow compost produce through the same local program.
Working side by side gave them the opportunity to move beyond small talk. As they interviewed one another, planned events, and spent meaningful time together, their unexpected connections continued to appear. The two discovered shared ties to Scotland, upstate New York, Washington, D.C., and Brookline. They also found a shared connection to science, as Bella’s father Jean’s husband were both chemists, along with a mutual love of reading, a belief in the importance of women's education, and a deep commitment to serving their communities. Every conversation uncovered another layer of common ground.
"It turned out there were many aspects of our lives, despite quite big differences in some aspects, where we really connected," Jean reflected. "There were more things we had in common than not."
Those discoveries changed how they viewed one another. Instead of seeing a younger student and an older adult, they began to see collaborators and friends. The values they shared became more important than the decades between them.
"I have come to think of us more as contemporaries or colleagues than I do thinking of us as different generations," Jean said. "It's just been a very positive working relationship from the very beginning."
Their friendship also challenged a broader assumption that generations naturally have little in common. Rather than focusing on age, they approached each conversation with curiosity and an open mind. Every story uncovered another point of connection, making the differences between them feel smaller and the similarities much larger.
"I think it's partly that we continue to keep growing," Jean said. "Having these conversations really helps us do that."
Those conversations often went beyond personal stories to larger questions about civic engagement, community responsibility, and creating positive change. Bella especially valued hearing Jean describe her experiences growing up during the social movements of the 1960s.
"I appreciated that you shared some stories from that time," Bella told Jean. "It really gave me a different perspective on where I stand and where my generation stands in a continuum of that work."
On the other end, Jean found herself equally inspired by Bella.
"My generation was very active in anti-war activities and civil rights activities," she said. "I'm impressed now that Bella's generation is making decisions about their future at a time when we're at war and there are protests going on."
For both women, learning moved in both directions. Jean shared decades of experience, while Bella brought fresh perspectives and renewed optimism about the future. Their relationship became a reminder that intergenerational friendships are not one-sided. They thrive because both people have something valuable to contribute.
Their partnership, formed through The Legacy Project's Changemaker Fellowship, ultimately created far more than a successful composting project. It strengthened relationships within the Hebrew SeniorLife community, encouraged residents to embrace sustainable habits, and demonstrated what becomes possible when generations intentionally spend time together.
"I think the main thing is just that we have a lot more in common, just as people, cross-culturally and generation-wise, than we realize," Bella said.
Jean shared the same belief: "With almost anybody, if you scratch the surface, you'll find a story," she said. "I think it's also true of generations."
Her words capture the heart of their friendship. Meaningful connections are often hidden in plain sight. They begin with curiosity, grow through conversation, and deepen when people choose to look beyond assumptions.
In a time when differences often dominate public conversation, Jean and Bella remind us that connection is still possible. Their story shows that age is not a barrier to friendship but an opportunity to gain a perspective we could never discover on our own.
Their composting initiative may have brought them together around a shared project, but it was never just about food scraps. It was about discovering that two people separated by decades could still find common ground, learn from one another, and build a friendship that neither expected.
And although their fellowship has ended, one thing is certain. Their friendship will continue.
After all, as Jean joked near the end of their interview, she already knows the role she plans to keep.
"I'm happy to be her composting consultant."
Kelly Chi is a junior at UW–Madison double majoring in consumer behavior and marketplace studies alongside information science. She is passionate about bridging generations through storytelling and capturing shared human experiences.
Independent voters may hand Democrats control of Congress this fall — but as history shows, they'll get nothing in return. Here's how to change that.
The midterms are six weeks away, and polls predict that independent voters, who broke for Donald Trump in 2024, are planning on voting for Democrats by wide margins. Among Latinos, the numbers are staggering, to the point that the Republican gerrymanders in Florida and Texas may actually result in Democratic victories.
If the Democrats take control of Congress, it will be because of independents. And what do independents get in return?
Almost nothing.
We do get to send a message, particularly to President Trump. We do get to create a divided government and restore some sense of balance (or at least stalemate) between the two warring parties. Just like in 2006, when independents gave control of Congress to the Democrats as a repudiation of George Bush’s war in Iraq, there is benefit to swinging the outcome and sending a message to the party in charge.
But it's not enough. Not when our country is struggling in so many ways. Not by a long shot.
America’s Independents are in a funny, almost absurd, position. We are the largest and fastest growing segment of the electorate - CNN has us at 48%. We decide the outcome of all major elections. If any other group of voters had these kind of numbers, and this capacity to decide outcomes, they would be courted by both parties. But not independents. We swing elections and then are ignored.
The day after the election, the Democrats will most likely break out the champagne. They will start congratulating their donors and interest groups. Independents won’t get a call. We won’t have our “what can we do for you?” moment.
In fairness, the Democrats and Republicans CAN’T ask that question. Why? Because the answer is that we want to change the political game. And that’s not something either party is eager to entertain.
Independents must take matters into our own hands. Neither party wants to make a deal with us. They want our votes, but they don’t want a partnership. So we have to apply the pressure - in many different ways. By pushing to end the partisan control of our primary system, of our election administration (including the office of Secretary of State), the Federal Election Commission, and the debates. By insisting that the media take us seriously. By running independent candidates and supporting pro-independent Democrats and Republicans. By defending the ballot initiative process - and more.
We have to apply tons of pressure on a decaying-but-powerful two party system. And we have to build the independent campaigns, candidacies, organizations, committees and coalitions that allow us to excel in the pressure business.
When 20 independent voters show up at a hearing in Annapolis, Maryland to testify in favor of Delegate Lily Qi’s bill to allow independents to vote in primaries, they are building and flexing political muscle and saying (without saying) “you want our votes so you can control Congress? Well we want something in return. We want in. We want to reshape the political conversation in this country so that it benefits ordinary people, not special interests. Let us in!”
When Seth Bodnar, the president of the University of Montana, says I want to serve the people of Montana, not be a cog in a partisan machine, so I’m running for US Senate as an independent” he is inviting Montantans to not just change who represents them, but HOW they are represented.
Our movement is growing. But the major parties are smart. They know that if independents ever got organized we could change the game in significant ways. So years ago they did something really smart to stop - or at least slow down - the growth of an independent movement. It was so small, and so elegant, that most people never noticed.
They invented the concept of the “leaner.”
Half the country is not on team red or blue. That’s a bad look for both parties, so they recruited smartypants political scientists to redefine these pesky nonconformists. The scientists eagerly created a genius (and highly unscientific) sleight of hand: “All these people identify as independent, but if they tend to favor one major party over the other, we can redefine them as Democrat Leaners or Republican leaners and presto - no more independents! Brilliant. And deadly.
The “independents as partisan leaners” framework is not just wrong, it is destructive on two levels. First, it obscures the fact that more and more Americans are distancing themselves from the major parties. There should be a national conversation about how to reshape our democracy to accommodate the changing desires of the American people. Instead, we get more partisan control, vitriol, and division.
Secondly, it paralyzes independents. It sends a message that independents are not a real thing. As such, you can’t do business with them. You can’t hammer out a deal. They may be 48%, but you don’t have to give them anything to win their votes. If independents were legitimized, they would have negotiating power. As “leaners,” we are impotent and unseen.
The key for the development of the independent movement is for independents to learn, through trial and error, how to shed the leaner label, apply pressure, and start extracting something for our votes. It will not be easy. Both parties are committed to gaslighting us. The journey from swinging outcomes to remaking politics is a tough one. But we independents need to learn how to do it. The country is depending on it.
John Opdycke is the president of Open Primaries, a national election reform organization.
Nigeria and United States flags together
The Fulcrum is committed to nurturing the next generation of journalists.
We asked Idris Mohammed, a Fall Fulcrum Fellow, to share what democracy means to him and his view of its current health.
Growing up in northern Nigeria has taught me that Democracy is more than elections. It is also about how a country is governed every day. In my view, the essence of democracy lies in people's right to challenge those who hold power, and in the state's responsibility to protect its citizens, be transparent about the budget, guarantee media freedom, and serve even distant communities. The conduct of elections does not necessarily mean good health of democracy if the citizens are scared to speak their minds, the media workers are intimidated in their investigations, and there are communities being neglected.
In light of Nigeria’s revival of its democracy from 1999 onwards without any subsequent military coups, the country has demonstrated significant competition within elections, opposition parties, and political debate. Nonetheless, Nigerian democracy has simultaneously been associated with security issues such as safety during travel, cultivation, education, and worship because of the fear of terrorism, kidnappings, and communal violence.
According to Freedom House’s report in 2026, Nigeria is considered “Partly Free” and faces problems such as insecurity, electoral irregularities, corruption, and intimidation of journalists which impede political freedom and civil liberties. Such a scenario is crucial for understanding democracy as the importance of the ballot box loses relevance if one cannot exercise basic freedoms.
Journalism has made this problem increasingly personal to me. Journalistic work involves terrorism, political violence, corruption, and insecurity. The experiences gained through the process have shown that democracy is contingent upon how questions get answered.
Is it safe for a journalist to question an official without getting arrested?
Can a person criticize a policy without any form of intimidation?
Can victims of political violence appeal to the government to be heard?
If the answers to the above-mentioned questions are uncertain, then democracy is still in jeopardy. My stay in the United States of America provides another platform through which one can analyze the questions above. Democracy in the United States is not perfect. There are clear signs of polarization in politics, disputes about institutions, and inequality in terms of political power. The 2026 report by Freedom House still categorizes the United States as “Free,” although the score decreased from 84 to 81 out of 100. This reduction is due to problems of institutional oversight, polarization, and civil liberties.
The most interesting thing to note is not that one country has achieved democracy while another has not, but the fact that democracy needs maintenance.
There is evidence in the United States that local institutions, the courts, citizens' organizations, universities, the media, and the general populace are engaged in politics outside the scope of presidential campaigns. In Nigeria, political interest is skewed towards gaining office and not enough toward how institutions function in the benefit of regular people after elections.
In accordance with my own definition, the current state of democracy in both countries is patchy. Nigeria retains its civilian leadership and competition between different parties; nevertheless, insecurity, lack of accountability, low level of trust, and pressure on the media make it difficult to turn democracy into tangible results for the country's citizens. The United States is characterized by strong protection of institutions, but polarization and erosion of trust reveal that democratic systems cannot be taken for granted.
Therefore, democracy is not a final stage in the development process that is achieved via an election process. It is the ability to question the reasons behind the insecurity of one's community, to question the distribution of the budget money, to be able to probe those in power, and to feel that one's voice matters and can change something.
Idris Mohammed is a Ph.D. student at the University of Alabama concentrating in Journalism & Creative Media. Idris’s work covering terrorism, displacement, and humanitarian crises across northern Nigeria has shaped his commitment to evidence‑based, solutions‑driven reporting that highlights both community resilience and the responses that make a difference.
