Truth Over Tribe
There was a time when I thought the biggest challenge facing society was deciding which side was right.
The older I get, the more I believe the real challenge is something else entirely.
The real challenge is whether we are willing to tell the truth when it becomes inconvenient.
I have spent years involved in workers' rights advocacy, disability issues, Indigenous community work, housing, homelessness, recovery, and systems accountability. Those experiences have taken me into government offices, regulatory systems, health systems, employers, advocacy organizations, nonprofits, and political spaces.
What I have learned is that no institution is immune from failure.
Not governments.
Not corporations.
Not unions.
Not nonprofits.
Not advocacy groups.
Not political movements.
Every institution begins with a purpose. Over time, many become focused on protecting themselves rather than serving the people they were created to help.
That realization brought me back to the writings of George Orwell.
Most people know Orwell as the author of 1984 and Animal Farm. What interests me most is not his criticism of authoritarianism. It is the path he took to get there.
Orwell opposed British imperialism because he witnessed its reality firsthand.
He opposed fascism because he understood the dangers of power, domination, and obedience.
But what made Orwell remarkable was his willingness to challenge people who claimed to be on his own side.
During the Spanish Civil War, Orwell fought against fascism. Yet he also witnessed censorship, propaganda, and political persecution within the very movement that claimed to oppose tyranny.
When he spoke about it, many accused him of helping the enemy.
He chose truth anyway.
That lesson has stayed with me.
Throughout my own work, I have watched institutions speak the language of accountability while resisting accountability themselves.
I have seen organizations promote inclusion while excluding those who challenge them.
I have seen systems designed to help vulnerable people become more focused on procedure than people.
I have seen public narratives that sound compassionate while individuals continue to fall through the cracks.
These experiences have not made me cynical.
They have made me cautious.
I still believe in workers' rights.
I still believe in Indigenous rights.
I still believe in disability rights.
I still believe in housing, recovery, community safety, and human dignity.
I still believe that public institutions can and should serve the public.
What I no longer believe is that any person, organization, movement, or institution should be exempt from scrutiny simply because it claims good intentions.
Principles are only meaningful if they apply equally.
If accountability matters, it must matter when it is uncomfortable.
If transparency matters, it must matter when it affects our own allies.
If justice matters, it must matter even when it challenges institutions we generally support.
Otherwise, those principles become slogans rather than commitments.
As I continue my work in community leadership, systems accountability, housing initiatives, workers' rights, and public service, I find myself less interested in political labels and more interested in outcomes.
Less interested in defending institutions and more interested in defending people.
Less interested in ideology and more interested in whether a system actually works for those who depend on it.
The question is not whether an institution calls itself progressive, conservative, public, private, charitable, or community-based.
The question is whether it is serving the people it exists to serve.
For me, leadership begins there.
Not with loyalty.
Not with ideology.
Not with belonging.
With the willingness to tell the truth, even when doing so is unpopular.
Truth over tribe.
Always.
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