​​By: Matt Lindsey

​For the second time in our married life, my wife and I bought a house. Strange as it may be, one component of that stressful experience led me to an epiphany about how to increase civic participation.

To qualify for a loan, the bank needs to check your credit score. Every one of us has a credit score. It essentially tells the story of your past financial behavior. Pay your bills on time, and your score goes higher. Apply for a bunch of credit cards, and your score goes lower. You all know the drill here. And a better credit score has real-world financial ramifications. Your interest rate on a new car loan or home loan is lower.

Here’s the epiphany: What if we each had not just a credit score, but a civic score?

There’s a maxim (often misinterpreted) by Peter Drucker, “What gets measured, gets managed.” In the case of civic participation, we don’t measure it. And without a measuring stick, truly improving and fostering greater participation is very difficult.

I’ll admit at the outset that there are certainly operational challenges, but let’s save those until the end and focus on what a civic score might look like.

What factors might affect a person’s civic score? One’s score could be improved by actions such as:

• Registering to vote
• Voting in a general election, whether it was for President of the United States or for local water board—​the system might even incentivize votes in non-Presidential contests to encourage more active participation in what are currently lower-turnout elections like those for city council or school board
• Volunteering in the community or on a political campaign, advocacy group, or at a polling station
• Serving in a national service corps like AmeriCorps or SeniorCorps
• Obtaining and using a public library card
• Donating blood or registering as an organ donor

I’m sure this is just a partial list. I did leave off donating to charity, however, since the tax code already incentivizes that behavior. On the other hand, your civic score could be damaged by failing to vote in multiple elections in a row, postponing jury duty multiple times, or truly disengaged, sustained, or civically poisonous behaviors.

But why would anyone care about a civic score in the first place?

Perhaps voters demand candidates demonstrate and disclose their civic score (though one would think voters would demand candidates disclose their tax returns, too…). Perhaps localities could offer variable charges on “public” goods that require some element of fee support or reduce fines for certain violations (like parking tickets) based on a civic score threshold. Perhaps schools and colleges could determine ways to incentivize students to improve their civic score and in so doing, be able to teach both civic responsibility and offer a gateway to lessons on financial responsibility. These are just a few possibilities.

The greatest challenge, perhaps, is the specter of “big brother.” We would need to carefully determine how one’s behavior was recorded and where that data was secured. Yet, this barrier may not be as insurmountable as it seems on first blush. The volunteers at polling stations already ask for your name and record that you received a ballot. The state maintains a voter registration file already. Many volunteer groups keep track of their volunteers, if only because they want to encourage you to come back.
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Such a plan actually could have especially strong effects on politics and volunteerism at the local level, a place where many communities sorely need more citizen engagement.

To return to the Drucker quote, one criticism has often been that the quote causes too many leaders to focus only on what can be measured, to the detriment of essential and valuable behaviors that cannot be easily quantified. While a civic score of this nature could indeed be useful, there are also many pieces of informed civic democracy that are difficult or impossible to count: how well do you pay attention to reasoned and fact-based sources of information on current events and how often do you gain exposure to viewpoints that challenge your own, for instance. Likewise, there are value-judgements that must be avoided about who you volunteered for, voted for, etc. Thus, a civic score would still be only one tool to use, alongside our judgement and ongoing, thankless efforts by journalists, activists, and others to improve civic participation in our democracy.
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Nonetheless, those efforts would be greatly complemented by a civic engagement analogue to our credit score and foster a more perfect union.
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​Matt Lindsey is the president of the Kansas Independent College Association & Foundation, where he coordinates a range of programs designed to strengthen Kansas' private, non-profit, colleges through collaboration, governmental advocacy, and public engagement and to support the ability of college students to choose and afford an effective, high-quality college education that fits their individual goals. Lindsey previously worked as the Executive Director for Kansas Campus Compact and as an adjunct faculty member with Kansas State University's Staley School of Leadership Studies. He also worked in Washington, DC as the Senior Associate for Freedman Consulting, where he advised non-profits, philanthropies, and civic groups on public advocacy strategies.

​By: Matt Lindsey

​One of the first lessons in elementary school is to put your name on your paper. In later years, not only is identifying your work crucial, but students are instructed on plagiarism and proper citation, so their teachers know what work is the student’s own. Without these items—a name on the paper and proof that the work is a student’s independent effort—teachers find assigning grades nearly impossible.

And so it is with legislators. But Kansas legislators essentially refuse to put their name on their papers or show their own work.

The Kansas City Star published a recent investigation and analysis of “secrecy” in Kansas government. It detailed numerous troubling aspects of the workings of our state agencies and how Kansas’ government is among the most secretive in the nation. One of the most dramatic points made, one that is no surprise to regulars at the Capitol, is this: More than 90% of the laws passed by the Kansas Legislature over the past decade have come from anonymous authors. For instance, 98 of the 104 bills that were passed during the last legislative session were introduced “by committee,” shielding the actual author or authors from identification. Kansas is one of only a small number of states where this practice is even allowed, and it is overwhelmingly abused.

Regular citizens of Kansas essentially have almost no ability to know who is crafting, sponsoring, or pushing for most of the bills that have been passed on concealed carrying of firearms, school funding, and almost any other conceivable issue. The Star explained why this practice is troubling from the point of view of participatory democracy. But secrecy of this nature is also easy to connect to the rising tide of intolerance that underlies much of Trump’s vision of America.

If you have a strong stomach and even stronger faith in human decency, spend a few hours venturing into the depths of Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, the comments on YouTube videos, or even the comment sections for many local newspapers. There you’ll find countless individuals expressing some of the more hateful and discouraging opinions imaginable. Many, if not all, are hiding behind a veil of anonymity. I’m not breaking any new ground with this observation, or the suggestion that on social media platforms, anonymity is used as a shield to protect individuals from taking responsibility for their most vile behaviors.

Anonymous bill sponsorships in Topeka are not identical to anonymous hateful rhetoric on the internet. But the two are interwoven pieces of the same illusory behavior that a responsible civic body should never embrace. Anonymity—whether online or in the state legislature—is a license to act without fear of consequence and without the need to weigh the costs of one’s decisions and actions. If I can say something hateful online, under a pseudonym or anonymously, I can always deny it was me who did so in contexts where there may be costs to those who express such things, but claim credit for my remarks only among those who might praise me.

Similarly, with an anonymous bill, legislators can avoid paying the “costs” of sponsoring a bill that may be unpopular by denying involvement with those who oppose the “orphaned” bill. Those “costs” are essentially votes for their opponent(s) in their next re-election campaign. At the same time, legislators can claim credit and reap the benefits—sometimes in campaign donations, but also in votes for their own reelection—from those who like the initiative.

In other words, anonymous bills undercut elections, which are essentially the only accountability mechanism Kansas voters have over their elected officials. Recalls in Kansas are severely circumscribed by law to very specific cases of felonies, misconduct in office, and failure to perform legally required duties. In practical terms, voters only get to hold our elected representatives accountable at the ballot box either every two or four years. Anonymous bill sponsorships are “get out of jail free” cards to aid their own careers, that our legislators are granting to themselves. And, unfortunately, the biggest defenders of the practice—including chamber leaders—readily admit that they do it to avoid the work and costs of putting one’s name on a bill.

But every voter in Kansas should respond, “so what?” Legislative service is hard. It should be. It’s too important not to be.

There’s a larger connection here as well, that should not be overlooked. Our nation is in the throws of an uprooting of civic norms. Our elected leaders, especially the President, his allies, and his defenders, choose time and again to empower those who previously used anonymity to exhibit some of the darkest impulses in humanity, be it racism, sexual violence, xenophobia, and more besides. And the President and his allies now have a novel approach to using anonymity. When confronted with evidence that they express these views, simply claim “fake news.” Yet, the intent is just the same as the online forums or the anonymous bill sponsorships in Topeka—to avoid accountability, to claim credit with those who agree and avoid paying any costs among those who might not.

Kansas need not continue down this path of using anonymity to shield legislators from explaining their work to their constituents. There is a growing bipartisan group of state legislators who have embraced a statement of transparency and are working to change the norms in Topeka. While I hope the 2018 session will be the year where the practice of anonymous bill sponsorship begins to fade, I sadly expect the opposite is true. And so, I hope voters in 2018 will support candidates who actively pledge to put their name on their work. How else are we to determine their grades? 

Matt Lindsey is the president of the Kansas Independent College Association & Foundation where he coordinates a range of programs designed to strengthen Kansas' private, non-profit, colleges through collaboration, governmental advocacy, and public engagement and to support the ability of college students to choose and afford an effective, high-quality college education that fits their individual goals. Lindsey previously worked as the Executive Director for Kansas Campus Compact and as an adjunct faculty member with Kansas State University's Staley School of Leadership Studies. He also worked in Washington, DC as the Senior Associate for Freedman Consulting, where he advised non-profits, philanthropies, and civic groups on public advocacy strategies.

​Early on in my life, my father taught me an important lesson, a mantra that has served as a useful guidepost. He said, many times, “If an excuse is needed, one can always be found.” There’s a parallel structure that shows up in the theory of adaptive leadership which says, in effect, that there is no such thing as a dysfunctional system—it’s always functioning exactly as the participants choose it to function to avoid losing something they care about. Even if we don’t consciously realize it, most of us tend to look for excuses to justify taking the path of least resistance rather than engage in the difficult, messy work of exercising leadership.

This mantra is one that keeps popping into my head as I watch the debate unfold in the Kansas legislature this year.

In my last post, just prior to the 2016 elections, I described the worries that my wife and I had about staying in Kansas for the long term, despite our deep ties to the state. I laid out several questions that surfaced in at our dinner table time and again. And I expressed some hope that the 2016 election in Kansas would help re-direct our state’s elected officials back toward the type of pragmatic, real-world approach to building a thriving place to live, work, and raise a family.

There was good news in November, at least here in Kansas. We saw many thoughtful voices elected (or re-elected) to the Kansas Legislature on the clear promise to address those very core issues. In both the primary and general elections, we saw individuals elected who campaigned explicitly on changing the way things worked in Topeka and getting our state back on a responsible path. Fifty new voices joined the chorus in the Statehouse this year. Many, although not all, heard loud and clear from voters in their districts that they wanted legislators to exercise leadership to fix the mess that the state’s budget and taxes are in.

All of us knew (or should have known) that the solutions were going to be difficult and come with very difficult choices. But we needed leadership that would at the very least stop digging a bigger hole in the state’s long-term finances, and then return some semblance of sanity and respect to the way the state addresses the priorities of state government, like schools, roads, and public health.

And now, we’re several weeks into the session, and the challenges remain and the questions aren’t answered. And we still haven’t even stopped digging the hole. But in the next couple of weeks, legislators across the political spectrum must step up and lead.

Here’s why that mantra – “if an excuse is needed, one can always be found” – won’t leave my mind. There are two easy paths and one hard path for moderate Republicans and Democrats to follow. 

One easy path, one that I’ve heard some Democrats give voice to, is this: “Unless we get a complete return to the pre-2012 tax structure, then we’re not voting for any fixes.” If a bill is just a partial fix—such as placing LLCs and Chapter S corporations back on the tax rolls—these folks are reluctant to support it. Their claim is that doing so won’t raise enough revenue alone, and they’ll be forced to vote for other, harder to stomach, tax increases later that will be used against them in the 2018 election cycle.

A second easy path, one that I’ve heard some moderate Republicans indicate, is this: “There’s no way the leadership or Governor Brownback are going to sign on to the type of big fixes needed.  So why should I stick my neck out and risk the ire of a well-funded primary opponent in 2018?” Their claim is that all the choices are so distasteful that it’s ok to go along with a plan to cut K-12 and higher education some more, borrow from the state pension plan some more (on illusory promises to “repay” it later), and balance the budget by leveraging the future to pay for the present. In other words, why vote for something that will be vetoed?
What makes both “easy” arguments frustrating is that they are both convenient excuses, ready just when one was needed.

Yes, Democrats are unlikely to get all they want out of whatever emerges. That’s what happens when the party has only one elected official west of I-135, and has exhibited a frustrating tendency to eschew systemic, statewide efforts in favor of focusing on strengthening strongholds in Douglas, Wyandotte, Johnson, Shawnee, and Sedgwick counties. When you’re outnumbered, it’s very hard to exercise real civic leadership, and it’s going to be messy.

Yes, moderate Republicans may have to buck their party leadership. But they weren’t elected to walk in lock-step with the party leadership. They were elected by a loud contingent of voters who wanted them to do their utmost to fix what is clearly broken, and to do it without further damage to core public services. When you’re challenging your “team’s” orthodoxy, it’s hard to exercise real civic leadership, and it’s going to be messy.

Make no mistake—2018 is looming. But if right-thinking legislators don’t step up and lead now, they’re likely to find many of us didn’t wait around. Voters need to hold their new legislators accountable now, and not just when Election Day rolls around. The excuses that could jeopardize things are too easily found if the rest of us are not remaining present and engaged throughout this legislative session.
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And I hope every legislator knows another lesson my father taught me early on: “People remember the choices you make.”

​Matt Lindsey is the president of the Kansas Independent College Association & Fund, where he coordinates a range of programs designed to strengthen Kansas' private, non-profit, colleges through collaboration, governmental advocacy, and public engagement and to support the ability of college students to choose and afford an effective, high-quality college education that fits their individual goals. Lindsey previously worked as the Executive Director for Kansas Campus Compact and as an adjunct faculty member with Kansas State University's Staley School of Leadership Studies. He also worked in Washington, DC as the Senior Associate for Freedman Consulting, where he advised non-profits, philanthropies, and civic groups on public advocacy strategies.

​This past summer, the Board of Regents noted a disturbing trend. Fewer and fewer graduates of Kansas’ colleges and universities are choosing to stay here. Nearly half of those earning a bachelor’s degree are leaving the state within five years. It’s a starker picture for graduate degrees. 45 percent of master’s degree recipients and 67 percent of doctoral degree recipients leave within one year of graduation.
 
For young professionals, the choice of staying in Kansas (or moving to Kansas) is driven by the answers to the questions that my wife and I discuss nightly. And study after study shows that a state’s economy and the health of our communities bears a close correlation to the migration patterns of these professionals. If they stay (and more come), our state’s future is bright. If they leave, a downward spiral is difficult to escape.
 
After putting our young daughter to bed each night, my wife and I have been having nearly the same conversation for more than a year now. The details of our discussion might vary night to night, but at the core, the principal questions are the same. And I believe, from talking to friends, family, neighbors, and co-workers, that a similar conversation goes on in many houses across Kansas each evening. I believe these conversations are happening among college graduates too.
 
The central questions are these:

• Is the state of Kansas going to be able to recover from the enormous set of challenges that have been created by disastrous policy-making in Topeka over the past six years?
• When our children are old enough to attend public school, will we still have high-performing schools filled with teachers who—while still not paid nearly what their commitment and service is worth—feel valued and are encouraged to be innovative? Or we continue to see our elected officials pinch pennies and play shell games with school finances as a means to justify other agendas?
• Will our local officials continue to be placed in a heavy straightjacket by state leaders, preventing cities and towns from addressing local infrastructure and social needs like libraries, parks, transit, and public safety? Because of those damaging limits, will our home increase in value in parallel with a healthy, thriving, community? Or will the mythology of the primacy of low business taxes crowd out our abilities to make our neighborhoods better?
• Are our retired, public teacher parents, going to have the retirement income that they paid for? Or do we need to plan for the day when KPERS is no longer solvent at all because our elected leaders “borrowed” from their share until it was gone?

 
These questions—and the answers—matter deeply to us. And I know they matter deeply to thousands of others like us.
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Kansas used to be a place of pragmatism, bipartisanship, and moderation. These past six years have instead been times of blind ideology, faith in discredited economic theory, and efforts to create a terrifying dystopia where there are guns nearly everywhere, affordable health care options nearly nowhere, and proudly mean-spirited attempts to have the government define boundaries on the right of each of us to make a life with someone we love. And because of that dark turn, many have turned away from Kansas, putting our future at even greater risk.
 
Moreover, we must remember this. Many like me—and young professionals and college graduates who are weighing whether to stay or to leave—are privileged to be able to do so. But many Kansans who are being hurt by the direction our state has taken do not have the luxury of this same choice. For some, their economic prospects, whether due to poverty or profession, do not allow them to easily leave Kansas even as the state makes their lives harder. For others, the demands of family, whether it be attending to parents or grandparents in decline, or medical conditions of a spouse or children, are likewise constrained from choosing freely. They are all forced to endure whatever Kansas throws at them.
 
That’s why the answers to these questions matter. It matters because we have to stop digging and start rebuilding. It matters because we need to elect leaders who want to make Kansas a place everyone sees as a beacon of practicality and commitment to community. 
 
Next month, it is essential that we all take steps to turn the ship of state around. I hope everyone reading this votes. I hope everyone reading this finds one more person to encourage to vote, one person they can drive to the polls, one person they can call to remind to vote. We need to elect leaders who are focused first and foremost on getting our state’s fiscal affairs in order, and then on returning to pragmatic approaches to how to meet the purposes of government—to ensure each and every Kansan has the ability to live safe, educated, and healthy.

​Matt Lindsey is the president of the Kansas Independent College Association & Fund, where he coordinates a range of programs designed to strengthen Kansas' private, non-profit, colleges through collaboration, governmental advocacy, and public engagement and to support the ability of college students to choose and afford an effective, high-quality college education that fits their individual goals. Lindsey previously worked as the Executive Director for Kansas Campus Compact and as an adjunct faculty member with Kansas State University's Staley School of Leadership Studies. He also worked in Washington, DC as the Senior Associate for Freedman Consulting, where he advised non-profits, philanthropies, and civic groups on public advocacy strategies.

There is an essential question at the core of Kansas’ ongoing, and now generational-spanning, debate over the adequate and equitable funding of public education and the curriculum that our public schools should teach. It’s one that, unfortunately, has not always been openly discussed and debated by policy makers and civic leaders. And it may be a question that has no single answer upon which everyone can agree. But without an answer to this crucial, central question, finding any common ground or “right” policy for funding or curriculum standards will continue to be like trying to find an agreeable place to stand in a revolving door.
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What is the purpose of education?

There are several common answers to this question, usually implied but not necessarily outright spoken.  For some, a K-12 education (and even a college education) is first, foremost, and primarily about preparing a young person for a job. In this worldview, education is about developing productive skills that can be used to earn a living and support a family.

For others, the purpose of education is to expose individuals to the breadth of human experience. Sometimes, this is through a specific lens driven by religious faith or set of personal values, but nonetheless the theme here is to prepare young people to be well-rounded, creative, and curious about their world and help them see themselves as part of a larger whole.

These are not mutually exclusive answers, of course. However, regardless of which answer one chooses, there is a separate, essential layer to consider. Throughout the American educational history, whether the pendulum swung toward the “vocational” or the “liberal arts” model, we have traditionally valued the role of education to help make young people into engaged citizens of our democracy. 

Unfortunately, much of our K-12 system has lost connection with this purpose of educating engaged citizenry. As we’ve piled on more standardized tests and more required curriculum elements, there has become less and less classroom time to focus on questions of what it means to be civically engaged. As our national and state politics have become more polarized and our society has become more litigious, the least risky path for teachers can be to avoid exploring civic and democratic engagement and the “messiness” that comes when diverse communities come together to address shared needs and opportunities.

Yet, encouraging informed, active civic engagement and democratic participation should be at the apex of our educational priorities. The Gates Foundation, in Civic Pathways Out of Poverty and Into Opportunity, notes, “The importance of civic engagement transcends charitable acts of kindness—the skill development, increased content knowledge, and self-empowerment resulting from civic engagement activities foster the necessary confidence and skills for success in higher education and the workforce.”

What I mean by civic engagement is a broad set of actions and behaviors that demonstrate care and commitment to one’s communities. These communities may be based in geography (local, state, national, global), identity (religion, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual identity), or cultural and social groups and allegiances. But regardless of the basis for “community,” a civically engaged individual takes responsibility for learning about the issues confronting his or her community, identifies which issues align with his or her strengths, values, and passions, and chooses to take action in accordance with those to make his or her community stronger and more vibrant.

This is where teaching civic engagement can be liberating for teachers and students alike. Civic engagement is not just limited to voting, or volunteering, or giving money to causes. It might also include organizing petitions, or speaking at a public forum before the local city council, or writing a letter to the editor of the local newspaper. Civic engagement might be even less formal than these—learning how an issue affects you and your peers and engaging them in a discussion of the possible consequences would also make a community stronger and more vibrant.

This is why we should be excited by a new effort at the Kansas Department of Education. Last year, Dr. Randy Watson, the still-new Commissioner of Education, convened nearly 300 focus groups across the state to explore the question I posed at the outset: “What is the purpose of education and how would we characterize success?” And wouldn’t you know it, Kansans identified “citizenship, ethics, and duty to others” as the single most important category of interpersonal social skills required for student success. It’s now up to a task force at KSDE to figure out what this means for the future and how we take steps to help educators foster civic engagement for students at all levels. I’m honored to be a member of this task force.

In that work, I’m hopeful that we embrace the view that civic engagement is not something that yields itself to another standardized test. Civic engagement does not equal the old “civics.” I believe everyone should know when the Declaration of Independence was signed (1776), how many amendments were in the original Bill of Rights (10), how many U.S. Supreme Court Justices there are (9), and which branch of government has the power to regulate interstate commerce (the Legislative branch). But the ability to recite these facts does not make one civically engaged. The ability to see how these facts and others may affect issues facing your community, and how these facts may provide avenues for taking action on those issues—​that is civic engagement.

At the same time, as a child of educators, I believe that we cannot make civic engagement just another item on a list of items that teachers must check off during the school year. This effort cannot, it must not, be treated as just one more thing to shoehorn into the curriculum. Civic engagement is not just “another subject area” to be taught. It needs to be woven into the fabric of everything taught in our schools, from kindergarten to high school. Civic engagement can be a part of every subject. We should be able to teach writing by writing letters to the editor to newspapers or to Member of Congress. Math classes could include explorations of the use of geometry in creating community gardens. Art classes can involve speaking about the history and value of public works of art with others. The list is endless and exciting, and many students are drawn to learning by doing, which is the only way to truly foster civic engagement.

In the end, Kansas needs to embrace the importance of civic engagement as connective tissue for the entirety of the educational journey, and in so doing, we will equip future generations with the most valuable knowledge they can receive.

Matt Lindsey is the president of the Kansas Independent College Association & Fund, where he coordinates a range of programs designed to strengthen Kansas' private, non-profit, colleges through collaboration, governmental advocacy, and public engagement and to support the ability of college students to choose and afford an effective, high-quality college education that fits their individual goals. Lindsey previously worked as the Executive Director for Kansas Campus Compact and as an adjunct faculty member with Kansas State University's Staley School of Leadership Studies. He also worked in Washington, DC as the Senior Associate for Freedman Consulting, where he advised non-profits, philanthropies, and civic groups on public advocacy strategies.

I began in my current job on August 1, 2012, working on behalf of Kansas’ private colleges. In the three years since, there have been forty-five incidents of gun violence on college campuses, thirteen of which led to loss of life for individuals other than the perpetrator.

After two more of these horrific events this fall – one at Delta State University in Mississippi, and then again last week at Umpqua Community College in Oregon – I have found myself pondering what should be done and what can be done beyond wringing our hands and shallowly hoping that not saying the shooter’s name or reporting it publicly will somehow lead to fewer of these tragedies. This bit of magical thinking – that by not speaking Chris Harper-Mercer’s name will somehow convince other potential mass shooters that they won’t become famous through their assault – assumes that there is some sort of logic and rational thinking underlying these actions. But I can’t see logic or reason in these. Instead, avoiding his name strikes me as blindly casting about for something, anything, to do regardless its absurdity because we have hit such an impasse on actually taking any responsible steps to address the issue.

The easy, nearly painless activism of avoiding his name stands in stark contrast to the extremely difficult debate over an important issue that has individuals on both sides with deeply felt values and beliefs. Truly solving something like creating a society where these mass school shootings no longer take place will require hard choices that all come with some or all of us giving up some part of those values and beliefs. But instead of taking that road, we do something simple and symbolic and then we will move on. This makes me exceedingly sad and worried about the future of colleges in Kansas and the safety and security of our students. Because every policy so far seems to follow a level of wishful thinking rather than clear-eyed realism.

In Kansas, we’re just over one year away from the deadline for all our Regents universities to begin allowing concealed weapons in campus buildings. Last spring, the legislature removed essentially all restrictions on the carrying of concealed weapons anyway – there’s no longer any training required, and there’s no licensure. In fact, while concealed weapons no longer require a license, here are a few things that Kansas requires me to have a license for:

• Casting a vote in a Kansas election
• Becoming an accountant
• Becoming a hair stylist
• Becoming a massage therapist
• Opening a car dealership
• Going fishing​

As far as I know, none of these activities comes as fraught with danger if in the wrong hands as a firearm. But only concealed weapons are license-free.

Back in 2012, I was optimistic that our political leaders would look at the carnage at Sandy Hook Elementary School and elsewhere and see reason. Everyone one of us knows the emotional and psychological turmoil that exists on college campuses. Even for the most well-adjusted college students struggle with balancing academic work, living away from home for the first time, and social anxieties from interacting with a far more energetic and far more diverse community than they may have ever encountered before with far more freedom from “adult” supervision than ever before. Insert the influence of alcohol into the mix and the dangers grow even higher. As much as we might wish it, college is already not necessarily a place where “rational thoughts and behavior” always comes first. Allowing handguns in our dorms, classrooms, dining halls, libraries, and student centers will come with more risk than reward.

I know the argument made in opposition: if there were more guns on campus, than everyone would be safer because those who wished to commit mass shootings like at Umpqua would choose to pursue their crime elsewhere. Just as the hope that erasing the name Chris Harper-Mercer from the newspapers and our lexicon strikes me as foolhardily asking for reason to triumph over passion in the cases of gun violence on campus, arming everyone on campus – or at least presenting the possibility that anyone might be armed – has a similar ring of expecting these individuals to act rationally and predictably.

I long for a reasonable discussion, at least in Kansas, on how to proscribe gun possession in and around college campuses with the least amount of infringement on students’ rights. I know this will require me to sacrifice some of my deeply held convictions. I hope those who fall on the other side of this debate are willing to listen so the avoidable tragedy at Umpqua Community College (and Delta State, and Santa Monica College, and others) doesn’t become the avoidable tragedy here in Kansas.

About the Author: Matt Lindsey is the president of the Kansas Independent College Association & Fund, where he coordinates a range of programs designed to strengthen Kansas' private, non-profit, colleges through collaboration, governmental advocacy, and public engagement and to support the ability of college students to choose and afford an effective, high-quality college education that fits their individual goals. Lindsey previously worked as the Executive Director for Kansas Campus Compact and as an adjunct faculty member with Kansas State University's Staley School of Leadership Studies. He also worked in Washington, DC as the Senior Associate for Freedman Consulting, where he advised non-profits, philanthropies, and civic groups on public advocacy strategies.

There’s a familiar saying, usually attributed to director Woody Allen, that “80 percent of success is just showing up.”  There are two simple lessons here that are relevant for those of us who hope to exercise leadership in the public sphere.  You have to be in the room to have an impact.  And being present is not just a one-time activity.

Even in this age of social media campaigns, carefully choreographed events with coordinated shirts and banners, and a broader, firmer commitment to keeping the message short and consistent, there is nothing more helpful to advancing one’s cause than being present each and every day that there is public debate and decision-making.

In my current capacity as president of an association of small non-profit colleges, I spend plenty of my working hours wandering the halls of the State Capitol in Topeka.  On most days, I’m not there giving testimony on behalf of the colleges.  And I’m certainly not taking legislators to fancy dinners.  In fact, on most days, I don’t even have scheduled meetings with any legislators at all.  I sit through committee hearings on issues that might have some effect on education, small communities, or non-profits and I find a place to sit or stand in the hallways where I might have the chance to observe what’s really going on in the legislature that day.  I talk to others who I’ve come to know who work on issues unrelated to my own.  I have opportunities to get to know legislators, their hard-working staff assistants, their interns, and even sometimes their spouses.

And, most of all, I’m present.  And because I’ve been present, I’m seen by those who I wish to influence (i.e. legislators).  And because I’m seen each day, the legislators remember my name, remember the issues on which I’m particularly passionate, and seek me out for dialogue and debate and insight.  That makes it much easier to make my case on issues I care about. Simply put, because I “show up” every day, I have more opportunities to achieve my goals and those who I wish to influence are more amenable to my message.

“Showing up” in this way is not glamorous and it is rarely exciting.  There are no dramatic backroom plots like you might expect if you think “House of Cards” is a good depiction of the halls of politics.  Despite its lack of glamour or excitement though, just being present can be physically and emotionally exhausting.  And it sometimes can take weeks, months, or even multiple years of “showing up” before you have the relationships and respect to influence real action on your issues.  I’ve only been in this role for three years.  Other hard working folks have been working in the Capitol for 30 and 40 years.  Imagine what that sort of “showing up” has permitted them to achieve!

The Catch:

Unfortunately, the power of “showing up” has a direct connection to American cynicism about the political process.  That’s because not everyone can be consistently present, day-in and day-out.  Most Americans have jobs, and families and commitments that have nothing at all to do with politics or the issues on which they feel most passionate.

Last year, for instance, during the debate on public teacher tenure, there was a rush of teachers wearing red t-shirts, singing, and chanting, and showing their strength in numbers.  This went on for several days.  Eventually, however, those teachers had to go back to doing what they cared most about – teaching!  And in so doing, the potency of their individual stories faded.  Meanwhile, others who might not share those teachers’ views on the issues were able to maintain a day-in and day-out presence in the statehouse.

One solution is to hire lobbyists to be your delegate and to “show up” on your behalf.  Successful lobbyists are quite competent at the act of being consistently present.  But not everyone has the resources to pay for such services.

And this is where cynicism often emerges.  For most, you cannot spend all your time attending legislative meetings and hearings so as to influence action on issues you care about because you have a life.  Neither can you afford to hire someone to do this for you.  So the cynic can easily and understandably start to feel frustrated by the iniquity of such a system.  If showing up matters so much, and if it looks and feels like the political process is dominated by those who can afford the time or money to show up – and thus their issues and views are embraced – then why engage at all?

The Path Forward:

Sadly, there is no simple solution to this dilemma.  Public challenges and issues grow ever more complex, making it even more important to be present, and ever more difficult to do so for the average citizen.

Technology can provide a few useful tools.  Video of legislative committees could be streamed on the internet, for instance.  A bi-partisan group of Kansas legislators has been trying to make this possible, so far unsuccessfully.  Some state legislators are personally active on Twitter and often will engage in healthy debate with followers who inquire respectfully.  But these are nibbling around the edges of the trickier issue.

If I could see one big change, it would be to see more individual Kansans make it an annual commitment to go to Topeka and “show up.”  Meet with your legislators and others who share your interests and values.  Talk about why you care about the things you care about.  See how the political process truly works and contribute beyond a staged and well-publicized event.  Be present, be seen, and do it more than once in your lifetime.  Change may come slowly, over many years.  But if Woody Allen’s thinking was correct, if enough Kansans “show up” over many years, more Kansans would start to feel optimism rather than cynicism about the workings of politics and policy.

Matt Lindsey is the president of the Kansas Independent College Association & Fund, where he coordinates a range of programs designed to strengthen Kansas' private, non-profit, colleges through collaboration, governmental advocacy, and public engagement and to support the ability of college students to choose and afford an effective, high-quality college education that fits their individual goals. Lindsey previously worked as the Executive Director for Kansas Campus Compact and as an adjunct faculty member with Kansas State University's Staley School of Leadership Studies.  He also worked in Washington, DC as the Senior Associate for Freedman Consulting, where he advised non-profits, philanthropies, and civic groups on public advocacy strategies.