Shortly after the late January collision of an American Airlines regional commuter jet and a Black Hawk helicopter above the frigid Potomac River near Washington, D.C., the usual divisions that characterize so much of American life emerged. Political fingerpointing ranged from accusations about diversity, equity, and inclusion to understaffed air traffic control. The one place you did not find such division was among the first responders, who came in droves and put duty to their fellow citizens above every other consideration, even in the most difficult and dangerous circumstances.
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Shortly after the late January collision of an American Airlines regional commuter jet and a Black Hawk helicopter above the frigid Potomac River near Washington, D.C., the usual divisions that characterize so much of American life emerged. Political finger-pointing ranged from accusations about diversity, equity, and inclusion to understaffed air traffic control. The one place you did not find such division was among the first responders, who came in droves and put duty to their fellow citizens above every other consideration, even in the most difficult and dangerous circumstances.
Top Lines
Billy Shore
What if we responded to a child trapped in poverty the same way firefighters respond to a child trapped in a burning building?
A strong sense of shared purpose takes precedence when duty calls.
That shared purpose is forged by two factors often missing in our politics: proximity and urgency.
What conditions, beyond their admirable professionalism, exempt firefighters, paramedics, and their fellow rescue workers from the forces that divide the rest of us? I’ve been trying to better understand this — and whether there is a larger lesson to be drawn that might point us toward a less divided nation and common ground on behalf of children, the environment, health care, and other issues.
My perspective is shaped by a blend of experiences at the intersection of national politics, nonprofit service, and more recently as a first responder. During my 15 years working in the U.S. Senate and on three presidential campaigns, it became obvious that although accruing political power is supposed to be a means to an end, it often becomes an end in itself. Which makes it more divisive than uniting. A 40-year nonprofit career that followed, helping to lead Share Our Strength to raise and spend $1.3 billion to feed kids and reduce childhood hunger, has been deeply satisfying, though many obstacles built into the nonprofit sector — from a scarcity mindset to insufficient collaboration — hinder such efforts from reaching scale. But it’s what I’ve learned in the last six years as a volunteer firefighter in Kennebunkport, Maine, that feels most relevant to this moment.
Firefighters, like everyone else, have diverse and strongly held political opinions. In Kennebunkport, we have about 40 active call firefighters on our roster, from lobster-boat veterans and construction workers to former bankers and tech entrepreneurs. They come to the job from a wide range of economic, educational, and political backgrounds — a range made obvious by their contrasting lawn signs during presidential campaigns. But a strong sense of shared purpose takes precedence when duty calls. Nothing concentrates the mind, or creates shared purpose, like a house on fire. The moment an alarm sounds, and as we race to the scene, we all share the same goal and have mutual respect for the various skills we each bring to the task. (Fortunately for our town, most are far more skilled than I am.)
That shared purpose is forged by two factors often missing in our politics: proximity and urgency. Political leaders tend to listen and learn in the comfort of marble chambers and tightly scripted, rehearsed committee hearings. The lives at stake in their deliberations are often nameless and faceless and might be hundreds if not thousands of miles away. Closer at hand are the lobbyists, campaign contributions, and threats of political retribution, all of which blur and distort their vision. Issues are used to gain political power but not political power to resolve issues. Distraction and delay are exploited by both sides in service of living to fight another day.
Courtesy Billy Shore
The author and his son.
The proximity of flames shooting out of a second-story window, or a child trapped behind it, make for a stark contrast, and a compelling reminder, that differences between us pale in comparison to what we can and must do together when lives and livelihoods are at stake. It leads to a sense of urgency as well. On the fireground, no one ever says “Let’s study it for six months” or “What if we can’t afford it?” or “Compromise by starting with a pilot program.”
What if we responded to a child trapped in poverty the same way firefighters respond to a child trapped in a burning building? What if, knowing a child didn’t have enough to eat or lacked access to quality health care or had learning differences or special needs, we dropped everything and immediately raced over with the tools and training necessary to help? What if we brought not just the same urgency but the same determination to do whatever it takes?
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I don’t mean to romanticize firefighters or suggest they are saints capable of magically solving all problems. They are, of course, human and will disagree over budgets, leadership, dinner, politics, and more. But on the fireground, the priority is so clear and unambiguous that they don’t get distracted in pursuit of symbolic victories or scoring political points. They not only bring different tools to work than you and I do — axes and ladders and Jaws of Life — they bring a different mindset formed by the nature of their mission and relentless training not only on skills but also attitude. They will do whatever it takes, assume accountability as if no one else is coming, and never leave until the fire is out.
There are concrete ways all of us — whether in government, politics, business, or the nonprofit sector — can be more intentional about creating the proximity and urgency that builds shared purpose. These include respecting and centering the lived experience of those we aim to help, bearing witness and putting ourselves into the community to reduce the degrees of separation. At Share Our Strength, we regularly take delegations of leaders, donors, and stakeholders on one- and two-day trips filled with site visits, tours, town halls, service projects, and conversations with impacted communities. The goal is to show, not tell, to see and feel firsthand not only the hardships of hunger and poverty but also promising, innovative solutions.
When we went to Arkansas and Maryland years ago to see the increase in school breakfast participation when the meal moved from the cafeteria before school to the classroom “after the bell,” we invested to expand the idea to all 50 states and added 3 million kids to the school meals program. Just this week we joined the executive leadership team of Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s on a visit to New York’s P.S. 51 to observe first, second, and third graders enjoy a much-needed after-school supper program and to pack thank-you gifts for food and nutrition service employees.
We’re not all called on to put out fires. But we all need to play a role in addressing the problems facing our community and country. We should take inspiration from our first responders and create a new and different mentality that failure is not an option. If successful, we may find that the shared purpose that has eluded America during this difficult time is closer to home than we realized, hiding in plain sight in every American community, large or small, among first responders at the local fire station.
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