A workshop on civic engagement and technology that I attended today was unusual in one important respect. We played @Stake, a card game developed by The Engagement Game Lab, which was one of the conveners of the event. A handsomely produced and cleverly designed game, @Stake randomly distributes roles and secret objectives to the players, who then discuss strategies for a hypothetical nonprofit and win small rewards for seeing their objectives included in the final plan.

The cards made me a CEO concerned about my organization’s financial condition, a statistician eager to make more use of data, and an artist volunteer. With my fellow players, I had to develop and choose strategies for addressing various challenges, like how to get more community members involved in our nonprofit or how to make better use of technology.

I came in fourth out of the four players in my group, but I learned a lot about the topic and had fun. Role-playing and trying to win helped my learning, I believe. The fictional roles made me think seriously from perspectives other than my real-life position. The competitive aspect made me really concentrate on these agendas. And the structure of the game rewarded both competition and cooperation. (Basically, you scored higher if you could get other people to include some of your agenda in their proposals. No horse-trading was allowed, so it was all about persuasion.)

I see lots of potential for using this kind of game in serious strategic planning.

The post using a role-playing strategy game to explore a public problem appeared first on Peter Levine.

I’ve previously reflected on the need for spaces where people can speak freely. Where they can share thoughts that are generally considered taboo or inappropriate to say.

These spaces can come in many forms and cover a range of topics.

A therapist’s office, for example, can be a personal safe space. Where you can admit that you have a problem. Where you can speak the unspeakable and process intense experiences. It’s a deeply personal space, where you (mostly) won’t be judged for your thoughts, behaviors, or actions.

But what about collective spaces?

There are many efforts to develop such spaces – where communities can come together to discuss – and hopefully address – their collective challenges. But such spaces are fraught with challenges of their own.

First – what ideas or opinions are off-limits? Should someone who genuinely believes that homosexuality is abhorrent to their religious beliefs be able to express such an opinion? Or should such discrimination not be tolerated?

What about those (seemingly) well intended people compelled to make comments starting, “I mean, some of my best friends are black, BUT – ” You know that sentence will never end well.

Personally, I’m inclined towards being inclusive – even of offensive points a few. Assuming we all restrain ourselves from degenerating into a shouting match – if someone believes something discriminatory, I’d rather hear them say it.

I’d want to understand where that belief came from – and help them understand where that belief came from. And most of all, proselytizing though it may be, I’d want them to understand where I’m coming from.

I am rarely accused of being optimistic, but perhaps I am in this regard – I understand hate so little that I have to imagine a sustained, open dialogue would set people straight, so to speak. After all, there really are former white supremacists.

When the Massachusetts legislature decided not to pursue a constitutional amendment which would stop gay marriage, those legislators who dropped their opposition to same sex marriage overwhelmingly shared that it was the stories of people, just people, that changed their minds.

And here’s the next challenge. Perhaps these spaces are important. Perhaps these conversations are important. But it shouldn’t always be on the LGBT community to speak out against homophobia. It shouldn’t always be on people of color to speak out against racism. It shouldn’t always be on women to speak out against sexism. It shouldn’t always be on religious minorities to speak out about religious discrimination. It shouldn’t be.

It’s not their job to go around educating every yahoo with a loud mouth and a chip on their shoulder. It’s really not.

These conversations need to happen, this education needs to happen, but it’s on all of us. It’s on all of us to create safe spaces, civil dialogue, and collectively learning. To push back on discrimination and microagressions and all the stupid little things that people don’t even know are wrong.

None of us can speak to another’s experience, but we can speak from our own experience, and we can speak to the betterment of the collective whole. We can speak up for what we know is right, and speak up in favor of acceptance, openness and understanding.

We can stand together, and talk together, and work together.

And yes, slowly but surely, we can improve together.

Modesty and humility are generally taken to be virtues – as, I think, they should be. Few things in life are more vexing than a bombastic fool.

But I wonder how these traits interact with the so-called “confidence gap” – defined by research which shows that “women are less self-assured than men.”

As Katty Kay and Claire Shipman write in the Atlantic, “For years, we women have kept our heads down and played by the rules. We’ve been certain that with enough hard work, our natural talents would be recognized and rewarded.”

On the whole, women, perhaps, are too modest, too willing to cede the spotlight, too quick to share credit for their work and ideas.

Of course, once I get past the fact that “Men” and “Women” are treated as monolithic entities, what drives me crazy about the “confidence gap” conversation is that the solution seems to be for women to be more like men.

Just be more confident is the prescription, along with window dressing comments about social norms and equity.

Just be more confident, as if half the population missed that day in school.

But there is nothing wrong with a healthy lack of self-confidence. A man who runs into battle sans armor is a fool. It’s good to have self-doubt, it’s good to hold yourself to impossibly high standards, it’s good to think before you act.

Or at the very least, its okay if that’s your style. You don’t have to change.

The challenge with a lack of self confidence, isn’t, perhaps, the confidence itself, but the paralyzing fear that comes with not knowing the right course of action.

It’s good to think before you act, but one doesn’t always have that luxury.

Confidence and modesty are, of course, not quite antonyms: one may have confidence in one’s abilities, but modestly choose not to announce this to the world at every opportunity. But, still, the words seem inextricably linked.

Modesty is a luxury. It’s something you can have when nobody doubts your ability. When you have nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.

For those women – and men – victim to the confidence gap, its not just their nagging self-doubt that’s holding them back.

It’s the subtle hints and the blatant actions, it’s the inescapable innuendo and discrimination, it’s the unavoidable fact that not everyone around you has confidence in your abilities.

Being confident in the face of all that is the challenge.

Modesty and humility are generally taken to be virtues – as, I think, they should be. Few things in life are more vexing than a bombastic fool.

But I wonder how these traits interact with the so-called “confidence gap” – defined by research which shows that “women are less self-assured than men.”

As Katty Kay and Claire Shipman write in the Atlantic, “For years, we women have kept our heads down and played by the rules. We’ve been certain that with enough hard work, our natural talents would be recognized and rewarded.”

On the whole, women, perhaps, are too modest, too willing to cede the spotlight, too quick to share credit for their work and ideas.

Of course, once I get past the fact that “Men” and “Women” are treated as monolithic entities, what drives me crazy about the “confidence gap” conversation is that the solution seems to be for women to be more like men.

Just be more confident is the prescription, along with window dressing comments about social norms and equity.

Just be more confident, as if half the population missed that day in school.

But there is nothing wrong with a healthy lack of self-confidence. A man who runs into battle sans armor is a fool. It’s good to have self-doubt, it’s good to hold yourself to impossibly high standards, it’s good to think before you act.

Or at the very least, its okay if that’s your style. You don’t have to change.

The challenge with a lack of self confidence, isn’t, perhaps, the confidence itself, but the paralyzing fear that comes with not knowing the right course of action.

It’s good to think before you act, but one doesn’t always have that luxury.

Confidence and modesty are, of course, not quite antonyms: one may have confidence in one’s abilities, but modestly choose not to announce this to the world at every opportunity. But, still, the words seem inextricably linked.

Modesty is a luxury. It’s something you can have when nobody doubts your ability. When you have nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.

For those women – and men – victim to the confidence gap, its not just their nagging self-doubt that’s holding them back.

It’s the subtle hints and the blatant actions, it’s the inescapable innuendo and discrimination, it’s the unavoidable fact that not everyone around you has confidence in your abilities.

Being confident in the face of all that is the challenge.

Is it better to quit while you’re ahead or to charge bravely forward?

The socially appropriate answer to that is conflicted. Our stories and expressions celebrate those who took bold stands -

The Greeks, at Thermopylae, fought to the last man. Flanked and facing an insurmountable foe, 300 Spartans, 700 Thespians, and 400 Thebans defended the pass, allowing the main host to escape entrapment. These men were slaughtered. But we remember them proudly. Over 2000 years later, we remember them proudly.

Fortune favors the bold.

Tacking into the wind.

Tenacity. Grit. Perseverance.

These words capture the awe inspired by those who fight when all is lost – or at least for those who win.

Even the Spartans, dead though they may be, succeeded in their goal – they gave their lives to protect the main body of the Greek army. The Trojans, who unwittingly welcomed their conquerors, are remembered less fondly.

Even the story of the honorable Don Quixote De La Mancha, tells us that while we may be inclined to treat such men as fools, there is indeed something noble about tilting at windmills.

But why are we inclined to treat such men as fools, surrounded as we are by stories of glory and honor?

Stubborn. Proud. Immutable.

Those are just a few of the words we may use to describe those who fight when all is lost – or at least those who lose. For those who stand their ground when a wiser man might flee.

So which is it? Is history to be our only judge? If you overcome you are a hero, if you lose you are a fool? How then are we to know whether to quit and go home or to persevere?

Or is there, perhaps, something noble about fighting the good fight no matter what the outcome?

Should we bear badges of stubborn and fool proudly? Tough in our resolve to stand firm no matter the cost?

Or, perhaps, should we chose instead to live to fight another day?