Fifty years ago this month, the US Congress established the Harry S. Truman Scholarship, which brings together service-minded college juniors who span the ideological spectrum – from Neil Gorsuch, now a Supreme Court Justice, to Stacey Abrams, founder of Fair Fight, to Bill Gates, who served as the Chair of Maricopa County Board of Supervisors during the 2020 presidential election. The scholarship is intended to serve as a living memorial to our 33rd President’s commitment to public service by building a diverse community committed to upholding public institutions.
After receiving the scholarship in 1997, I spent two intense summers with my fellow Trumans, soaking in diverse viewpoints, debating policy, wrestling with ethical dilemmas, and dreaming about how we might serve our country. During the Clinton impeachment's seemingly unprecedented partisan tensions, we discussed running on cross-partisan slates – not promising to always agree, but committing to respectful engagement and understanding our differences. Twenty-five years later, watching my 17-year-old son write about losing his faith in politics, I wonder what happened to that vision.
These weren't just idealistic dreams. When my husband served in the Colorado legislature, we put these principles into practice. We hosted dinners with his colleagues across the aisle and their spouses, to connect as people first, and they often reciprocated. One memorable visit took us to Republican Representative Jim Wilson's home in Salida. Our young sons walked into a house adorned with hunting trophies, wide-eyed at the mounted deer and moose. Over dinner, Jim told us stories about growing up hunting, and we later watched our boys bounce on the trampoline with his granddaughter.
While Jim and my husband disagreed on many issues, their ability to see each other as people first led to productive conversations at the Capitol. They found ways to compromise on thorny issues, serving their constituents more effectively because they understood the human complexity behind their political differences. This approach led my husband to pass more bipartisan bills than any other legislator in the building during his eight years of service.
The Boettcher Foundation in Colorado recognized the power of such personal connections. For years, they ran a successful program bringing new legislators together across party lines, away from cameras and social media, focusing on human connection before policy debates. These retreats helped forge relationships that later enabled difficult compromises on contentious issues. Sadly, this program's effectiveness has waned as some new legislators now refuse to attend, viewing engagement with colleagues across the aisle as political weakness.
Last month, my son Sachin wrote in The Denver Post of watching his father endure relentless personal attacks during a recent mayoral debate, and said it was the moment he lost his "pure, unshakeable love for politics." But this isn't just about my family, it's a warning sign of a broader crisis in American democracy: we're making public service increasingly unbearable for the very people we most need in government – thoughtful moderates willing to work across divides to create effective policy solutions.
Across state legislatures and city councils, moderate voices are vanishing. They're either choosing not to run, losing primaries to extreme candidates, or stepping down. The Colorado legislature, once a body known for bipartisan collaboration, has seen an exodus of moderate leaders, replaced by individuals who seem to thrive on the rhetoric of campaigning but have little demonstrated interest in tackling the complex work of balancing competing priorities that policymaking requires.
We must reform primary systems to reduce partisan extremes. One way is to follow the lead of the more than 50 American cities that use a form of ranked choice voting (RCV), in which voters rank candidates on their ballot. If no-one receives a majority, the candidate with the fewest first-choice votes is eliminated and voters who ranked the eliminated candidate first have their votes redistributed to their second choice. This process continues until a candidate receives a majority of votes. According to the National Civic League, exit polls in cities using RCV show strong support for the system. Fair Vote found that both voters and candidates perceive RCV elections to foster more civil campaigns with less negative rhetoric compared to traditional plurality voting systems. Some states are also considering blanket or nonpartisan primaries, which allow voters to select candidates from any party for each office, encouraging all candidates to appeal beyond party bases.
Since research shows that personal connections can transcend political divisions, funders should support opportunities for elected officials to build relationships across party lines. This could be in the form of hosting and strongly incentivizing attendance at new legislator retreats, or programs that bring elected officials representing different parts of a state to visit their colleagues’ districts. While there are not enough efforts in politics to demonstrate how this would work, my experience with interfaith dialogue has shown how coming together as people can transform seemingly intractable conflicts. When campus chaplains bring together students from different faith traditions, they start with sharing personal journeys rather than theological debates. This same approach can work in politics. If anything, such approaches would bring back the type of engagement across lines of difference often experienced in the past through religious, faith-based and cultural organizations, all of which have been on the decline in the US over the last three decades.
Communities can foster these skills through practical civic engagement. School districts should offer credit for campaign work and local government internships, letting students learn democratic processes firsthand. Local organizations should create forums where citizens can practice constructive disagreement while working on shared community challenges. As part of these efforts, participants can be introduced to simple techniques like controlled breathing to help them manage their emotional reactions during difficult conversations. These hands-on experiences build the muscles needed for democratic participation far better than traditional civics classes alone.
All of us as individuals should reward journalism that illuminates complexity rather than inflames division, and contribute to outlets that prioritize substantive policy discussion over political theater. Congress is currently considering competing funding recommendations that will determine whether the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) receives any funding in 2027 – a crucial moment for preserving thoughtful public discourse. Anyone committed to a free and fair press should write to their representatives, urging them to fund CPB.
Most importantly, as voters and citizens, we must change how we engage with public servants. When voters don't understand the complexity of governing, it's easy to jump to unfair conclusions: he worked in the private sector so doesn’t care about poor people; he is white so doesn’t care about people of color; he talked with a lobbyist from the gas industry so must not care about climate change. My children heard all of these charges lobbed against a father who they know cares about all of these issues. As my son suggests, each of us can play a role in this shift by attending local government meetings, getting involved in campaigns, observing policy hearings to better understand governance's realities or hosting a dinner that brings together neighbors with different political views. Democracy happens one conversation, one relationship at a time.
The stakes couldn't be higher. Every time a talented moderate chooses private life over public service, we lose not just their leadership but also the next generation of potential leaders. The simple act of sharing a meal and watching children play together across party lines now seems quaint.
We face complex challenges that require nuanced solutions and leaders capable of building broad coalitions. It's time to make public service appealing again to those who see governance as a calling rather than a combat sport.
Ulcca Joshi Hansen, PhD, JD is a Paul & Daisy Soros Fellow and a Public Voices Fellow of The OpEd Project. Dr. Hansen is a futurist and the author of the award-winning book The Future of Smart. Her research and writing focus on bridging cultural and ideological divides during periods of rapid social change.
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