At the core of many of my conversations with individuals and groups lately, stands a basic question of “belief.” Will we believe that we as individuals, and together, have the ability to affect change? Wavering on this question leaves us wondering whether we can step forward and truly make a difference. Here are three ways to restore and deepen your own sense of belief in these politically toxic and divisive times.

The importance of this topic was only reinforced for me a few weeks ago when I was in Orlando serving as the opening keynote speaker for the United Way Worldwide annual Staff Leaders Conference. During my time there, I heard many people talk about their own feelings of inadequacy in creating change in their communities, within their organization, and within themselves. I viewed these individuals as being brave, not weak – brave enough to voice what so many of us feel but often are unwilling to say ourselves.

The restoration of belief in ourselves and in one another is pivotal to all our efforts to make a difference in communities. Without such belief, we may hold back from doing what we know is required to bring about change; we may choose not to reach out and forge key relationships with others; we may step back just when we need to step forward.

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At issue is our sense of possibility. In question is how to build up our confidence. Here are three steps you can take to deepen your own sense of belief and to engage others:

• We must stand up and grab hold of emerging stories of self-trust and hope. It is easy to go around and tell negative stories about how bad things have become, to continually reinforce an ingrained, negative narrative. Instead, we must search for and tell stories of self-trust and hope – those stories that help us see how change did come about, how people forged ahead even amid falling down, and how people came together to make a difference.

• We must be courageous enough to ask a basic question to others: “What story do you have?” and then once someone has told it, to ask, “What story are you going to tell, now?” I urge you to try this, because in taking this step you will experience its power and you will begin to see the seeds of change.

• We must be willing to actively support others who tell stories of self-trust and hope. That is, we must publicly stand by those who tell such a story as opposed to looking down or away or to someone else. People must know that they are not standing alone – that we are with them.

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The key challenge here rests within each of us. It is whether we will stand up and declare our intentions. Whether we believe in ourselves enough to move forward? Whether we choose to believe in the goodness and motivations of other people? Whether we believe that individuals and communities can change?

There is no magic solution to restoring people’s belief – there is no public relations campaign, “best practice,” or new fad one can adopt to do this trick. Nor can we rely on mere “feel good” stories that provide empty promises and ring hollow. Instead, what we need, what we require already exists within us. We must tap and tell genuine stories of self-trust and hope. Start with small steps and you will see the power you hold to deepen your own sense of belief in your individual and our collective ability to create change and make a difference.

It’s possible.

For more on this topic, you may want to take a look at a speech I gave some years ago, entitled: Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly: Creating a New Public Story.

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A dynamic public speaker, Rich Harwood is a frequent keynote for foundations and national organizations. He is an expert contributor on national and syndicated media outlets including MSNBC, NPR, The Christian Science Monitor, CNN’s Inside Politics, The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, Special Report with Brit Hume, C-SPAN, and many others. He is also the author of Hope Unraveled: The people’s retreat and our way back (2005), Make Hope Real: How we can accelerate change for the public good (2008) and numerous studies, articles and essays chronicling vital issues of our time. His most recent written work, Why We’re Here: The Powerful Impact of Public Broadcasters When They Turn Outward, is being published and distributed in Spring 2011. You can follow him on twitter @RichHarwood and facebook.com/richharwood.

You can read Rich’s posts every Tuesday on State of the Re:Union’s website.

Sometimes talk about community-building can be so serious. And, yes, often it is a serious business: if you’re trying to resurrect a town’s ailing economy, say, or fighting neighborhood crime, or cleaning up after a disaster… But sometimes the things that really bring us together, that make us feel connected to the people around us and to the place we live—well, sometimes, they’re a little more fun than that (fortunately!). Sometimes, they’re… barbecue.

Just in time for the Memorial Day holiday, I thought I’d write a little homage to the beautiful community togetherness that is the neighborhood BBQ. Now, in small town New England where I live, we’re just entering into the grilling season. The first gorgeous, warm Saturday afternoon of the spring brought the scent of charcoal wafting across many a backyard in my part of town. Now, I know in some places in the U.S., barbecue IS a serious business, as enjoyable as it is. Sauce recipes are held as ancestral secrets, and regional arguments are held over the wisdom of a tomato or a vinegar base. Hours are spent waiting for smoke to work its magic. It’s pits versus propane, brisket versus burgers. I admit: I love it all, but what I’m talking about here is a more casual affair. It’s a cold-bottle-of-beer-while-you-cook hot dog and burger scenario, the occasional fancy chicken sausage thrown in for good measure. And it’s as much about who’s hanging out around the grill, as it is about what ends up on your plate. A backyard BBQ brings cooking into the communal sphere, and can turn a meal into a multi-hour hangout, an appreciation for where you live and who lives near you, instead of a mere bite to eat.

And, occasionally, it can turn into an extraordinary demonstration of national pride, a culinary feat of heroics. Just ask a Uruguayan.

Back in 2008, the tiny South American nation staked its claim to grilling dominance with what is estimated to be the world’s biggest barbecue. More than 1200 volunteer grillmasters circled up to cook more than 13 tons of beef. Ok, yes, this was no backyard Webber affair (it was sponsored by a Uruguayan meats association who figured it might prove good for beef exports), but the news reports of piles of meat and residents’ boasts made me wonder: what do our barbecues say about who we are and where we live? What part of our local identity is wrapped up in how we grill our meat (or veggie sausage or marinated tofu tips, or whatever), and who we kick back around the barbecue with?  Let us know what you think… What’s on your grill this Memorial Day? And—perhaps more importantly—what does it say about your community?

Oakland has so many strong associations with violence and crime. That’s not to say that these things aren’t huge challenges for the city, but they do seem to encapsulate the funnel for which Oakland is shown to the rest of the country. But as we found out in our episode, Oakland – The Self-Made City, there are so many incredible things happening there, lead by innovative thinking and a caring community.

California Is a Place, is a remarkable project that captures the unique stories in beautifully filmed video documentaries. In fact, it’s a passion project as you can tell from the founder’s about verbiage; “We love this stuff. That’s why we’re doing this project. Simply put, California is sensational.” We actually had the pleasure of working with them in producing the El Rey documentary. Scrapertown is a fantastic story that they filmed that features the Original Scraper Team. I’d rather you watch . . . and take in the vivid colors and larger than life Scraper Bike King.

The first issue of the National Civic Review I edited was a special edition of the 100-year-old journal on “civic journalism.” It was called “Rethinking Journalism: Rethinking Civic Life.”

This is going back a few years, right about the time that the Internets were taking off, though in a very boring, text-heavy direction. (Care to join my listserv, anyone?) Meanwhile, a group of troubled news biz professionals were looking for new ways of covering their communities.

Civic journalists worried that ethics of media professionalism divided the reporter and editor from the ordinary citizen. “In fact,” wrote NYU professor Jay Rosen in the Civic Review, “The isolation of the press from our deepest needs as citizens is currently running the public trust, distorting the news product and corroding the soul of an important institution.”

Some were asking why editors and publishers should be able to set the public agenda instead of citizens themselves. Others lamented the increasing emphasis on celebrity, scandal and tempest-in-a-teapot controversies.

There were some impressive experiments back then in newspapers like the Wichita Eagle, the Charlotte Observer and the San Jose Mercury News. In some cities, local papers teamed up with one of the network television affiliates on ambitious civic journalism projects, combining small and large group community discussions with traditional newsgathering procedures.

The trend was warmly greeted by civic groups and philanthropists, but within the news biz itself there were deep divisions. Some old-timers referred to it dismissively as “civic booster-ism” and worried that public spirited “puff pieces” would take the place of hard charging, shoe leather investigative reporting.

In the end, it wasn’t civic journalism, or any other new idea that transformed the news media. It was technology. We didn’t realize it at the time, but the business model on which any sort of professional journalism—civic, investigative  or otherwise-was predicated—was about to implode.

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In the end, it wasn’t civic journalism, or any other new idea that transformed the news media. It was technology.

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These days, you don’t need a journalism degree or years of experience covering Tuolumne County Water District No. 2 (as I had) to be a reporter or opinion writer. All you need is a laptop, a smart phone or access to a public library with computer stations, a flip camera or a fast internet connection. Mot of all it is the ability to adapt very rapidly to a changing technological landscape.

What economists refer to as the “entry barriers” to media work have been lowered. Not that the barriers have been removed. With new technology come new  class divisions between those who do and those who don’t have the basic computer skills, familiarity with new technology and a broadband Internet connection.

At the same time, an increasing number of groups and organizations have formed to bridge the “digital divide” between technological haves and have-nots. (In fact, the fall 2011 issue of the National Civic Review will focus on some of these efforts.

In doing research for the issue, I talked to a janitor in Philadelphia who is learning how to use Windows Movie Maker and Final Cut software to edit videos to document her experiences with media training courtesy of the Media Mobilizing Project. She recently produced an online video about an SEIU local’s efforts to organize security guards. She has also hosted an online talk show on labor issues.

The Renaissance Media Center in San Francisco recently came out with its New Media Toolkit, an-easy-to-navigate website “design for beginners and pros” and “created especially for the ethnic/community media and nonprofits.”

ZeroDivide (formerly known as the Community Technology Foundation of California) has funded a number of projects designed to empower underserved communities with the “power of information and communications technologies.” Gen ZD, for example, is a network of “youth technology users” in underserved communities across the western states. The Tribal Digital Village Broadband Adoption Program is working with Native American tribes in Southern California.

In retrospect, the civic journalism idea may have been something of an oxymoron. It was bucking the trends of contemporary media markets—the winnowing budget for public policy reporting and the increasing obsession with celebrity trivia and scandal-mongering.

But with citizen journalism, we are only beginning to see its potential. It’s a brave new world, and no one knows exactly where it is going. One part of me worries about the blurring distinction between professional and citizen journalism. I have the usual questions: who is going to pay for local investigative reporting? How will ordinary citizens sift through the unmediated mass of true and false information appearing hourly on their computer screens?

Another part of me says, why worry?

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Mike McGrath is senior editor and chief information officer for the National Civic League. A former newspaper reporter and magazine writer, he is editor of the quarterly National Civic Review, which will be beginning its centennial year of publishing this spring.

Mike’s posts will appear every Thursday on the State of the Re:Union website.

Gedun Gyatso is a college student just like me, but he can’t go home during his school vacations. A 22-year-old Tibetan with spiky black hair, he has lived in Delhi, India for the past year, studying English at a local university. But his home is far away – across the Indian border in Tibet, where his family lives in a small nomadic village. “I have seven family members, and I’m the youngest one,” he told me. “I was alone on my way to refuge in India. I came here by myself.”

This Monday marked the 60th anniversary of the Chinese occupation of Tibet, an important day for Gedun and more than 100,000 Tibetans who have become refugees in India since then. After the Chinese government took control of their homeland 60 years ago, many of them left for cultural and religious freedom – fleeing as Chinese officials burned down Buddhist monasteries, captured Buddhist monks and began imprisoning people for even possessing a portrait of the Dalai Lama, Tibet’s spiritual leader.

I met Gedun last summer when a friend and I went to India with a grant from our university. We were there as journalists, documenting how Tibetan students throughout the country are using education to preserve their culture in exile, and we spoke with more than 50 Tibetan refugees. Many said they had attended Chinese schools back in Tibet, with Chinese teachers who never talked about Tibetan history or culture. “If somebody asked me, ‘What is Tibet? Why are you saying, ‘Free Tibet’?’ I’m sure that I wouldn’t have had an answer or an explanation,” Gedun remembered.

Risking everything for a better education, some students left Tibet as young children and came to India without their families. Others said they were born in exile as second or third generation refugees, so they have never even had an opportunity to visit their homeland. Yet despite their different backgrounds, many of these students grew up together in small Tibetan villages scattered around India, receiving free housing and an education thanks to a nonprofit organization called Tibetan Children’s Villages. Living like brothers and sisters, they finally learned about the Tibetan language, Buddhism and their native culture.

Although I returned from India many months ago, the 60th anniversary has brought on a flood of memories, and I can’t stop thinking about these Tibetan students. Just weeks from my own college graduation, I can relate to them in some ways, but I can’t imagine how hard it would be to say goodbye to my family and my country forever, coming of age in a community in exile.

I tend to think about community as a fixed geographic location – perhaps a neighborhood or even an entire nation, a region we can pinpoint on a map. But the Tibetan situation forces me to consider a wider definition of community, not only as a geographic location but also as a social phenomenon – a collection of people with a shared language, religion and history. Is it possible for a community to survive without both elements, lacking either a land or culture of its own?

The geographical aspect of community clearly matters, and when Tibetans spoke about the Chinese occupation, I could sense a deep note of sadness and longing in their voices. Yet as I traveled throughout India, I saw that they have somehow managed to stick together and preserve a very unique culture thousands of miles from home. In fact, I believe their status as refugees in a foreign land has forced them to create even stronger communal ties.

In Delhi, for example, Gedun says the Tibetan students at his youth hostel have become like a makeshift family of brothers and sisters. Since he’s the only Tibetan at his university, he looks forward to returning to them every night after class. Still, he thinks often of his biological family and his Tibetan homeland.  “I really want to go back to Tibet, but it’s dangerous,” he says.  Instead, he plans to give back to his people by getting a law degree in India. “I want to fight for the justice,” he said.

Growing up in exile, it seems, has given him the means and the drive to help a community that transcends national borders. “There’s a big hope from my own society, that this generation will do something,” he told me. “We cannot let these hopes and these wishes wash away.”

This post includes excerpts from a forthcoming article that Samantha and her reporting partner, Ashley Lau, hope to publish about Tibetan youth and education in India.

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Samantha Michaels is a senior at Northwestern University with a double major in journalism and international studies. A Chicago native, she hopes to become a foreign correspondent or travel writer someday, and during college has tried to see as many new places as possible.

You can read her posts on State of the Re:Union’s website every other Wednesday.

I have been thinking a lot about how to make a difference in society and also stay true to yourself.  I write and speak on this topic a good deal, but in light of the recent storms in America’s heartland, the question of charity vs. change has been on my mind. There has always been a difference that has concerned me–oftentimes I think we get them confused. I still do; so I wanted to return to this topic amid the challenges we face.

For a very long time I have always sought to speak out on significant difference between charity and change. Charity is ensuring someone has a meal tonight or roof over their head, things that folks in the wake of a natural disaster very much need. All things I suspect we agree are good things to do. But the problem is when we come to believe that such charity is a substitute for change–in fact, that it IS change.

I remember very clearly hearing on the radio a segment of a National Press Club talk given by Reverend David Beckmann, president of Bread for the World, who was talking about how to end hunger in the U.S. At one point, he made a passionate riff about how Moses and Jesus and the prophets all were fundamentally calling for changes in structures, laws, and beliefs, among other things. Yes, they wanted people to help the less fortunate; there’s much written about that in religious and other belief systems. But, they also said that only through basic changes in underlying conditions in society, would the world be different.

Beckmann was asked if he thought there was a “compassion gap” in the U.S., had people become so fatigued by national and world disasters and assorted other events that they were no longer willing to engage or even pay attention. He emphatically said “No” – while there is a lack of confidence in our ability to act effectively on challenges, people still “care.”

I agree with him. Every indicator I see in my work and travels is that people still do care about others and deeply so. But caring and what we do are two very different things. We have created all sorts of mechanisms that enable people to marshal in the short term financial and other resources to express our individual and collective compassion for victims of natural disasters and to respond to people’s immediate needs. We can make donations through instant text messages, directly support charities online and bypass “middle men,” and rally around a cause through instant mobilization efforts. But is that enough?

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Every indicator I see in my work and travels is that people still do care about others and deeply so. But caring and what we do are two very different things.

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At a Craigslist Boot Camp, where I once spoke, I was taken to task for not promoting “fast and easy” volunteer actions people can take, whether they be donations or other activities like reading a book to a kid. Statements about such “fast and easy” actions were a mantra at the event. My own response was that the actions people take can be viewed along a continuum–say, from something fast and easy to something deeper and more sustained over time.

But I also said that we must not confuse fast and easy such actions with fundamental change, that our purpose and actions must be aligned. To create change, as Beckmann was pointing out, we must get at fundamental structures, policies, laws, norms, relationships. Yes, charitable acts can contribute to such change, but they do not get us there.

I suppose I am writing about this topic today because at no other point in my own lifetime can I remember when charity was more needed at home and abroad. So I find there is a pull within me to hold back a bit on drawing such a sharp distinction between charity and change. I know we need charity and we must give. And yet, what I also know is that the need for change–real, fundamental, basic transformation–is desperately needed today. We are in a new time, guided by too many old reflexes and approaches. We need to act on both charity and change, but let us be clear aware of when which response is called for when.

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A dynamic public speaker, Rich Harwood is a frequent keynote for foundations and national organizations. He is an expert contributor on national and syndicated media outlets including MSNBC, NPR, The Christian Science Monitor, CNN’s Inside Politics, The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, Special Report with Brit Hume, C-SPAN, and many others. He is also the author of Hope Unraveled: The people’s retreat and our way back (2005), Make Hope Real: How we can accelerate change for the public good (2008) and numerous studies, articles and essays chronicling vital issues of our time. His most recent written work, Why We’re Here: The Powerful Impact of Public Broadcasters When They Turn Outward, is being published and distributed in Spring 2011. You can follow him on twitter @RichHarwood and facebook.com/richharwood.

You can read Rich’s posts every Tuesday on State of the Re:Union’s website.