Raise your voice

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to participate in an all-day training by Maine Equal Justice Partners on how to be a better advocate. I attended with a group from HopeGateWay (my church) and Hope Acts (a nonprofit whose board I chair) that included several asylum seekers from central Africa who are, among other things, concerned about the impact of the Governor's proposed cuts to General Assistance in the state budget.

General Assistance provides a lifeline to asylum seekers who, despite what Gov. LePage would have you believe, are here legally under the current U.S. law. They come to the U.S. to escape unimaginable violence, persecution and, too often, almost certain death or incarceration in their home countries. Given the way the asylum process works, it takes a minimum of 150 days for an asylum seeker to get a work permit--something most of them desperately want--and the clock doesn't start until they have filed their asylum application (a process that itself can take months because of its complexity). In the meantime, staying in the already overcrowded Portland shelters can retraumatize people who have experienced significant trauma, so GA provides the basics--food and shelter--until people are legally permitted to work.

There were about 50 people in attendance at the training, from all walks of life. What was heartening to me was that most of the attendees were not just allies of the disenfranchised, which I guess is what I would consider myself, but people who will be deeply, directly impacted by the proposed budget and the Governor's incessant attacks on welfare and those who rely on it. Hearing their stories was, in itself, worth the trip to Augusta on a blustery Friday. The fact that they were there indicated, to me, that they had hope--that they felt like their stories mattered and could make a difference.

Several state legislators and senators spoke to our group. The message they all shared: your voices matter. We want to hear from you--we want to know how you and your family will be affected. Your stories give us energy and purpose. They urged all participants to connect with their legislators and talk about the issues that matter. Some general advice they gave:

• Speak from the heart. 
• Tell your representative why you care about the issue and how it will impact you (or people you care about).
• Give examples--numbers, stories about what you have experienced or what you fear if a bill passes (or doesn't pass). These are the stories legislators will share with their colleagues in committee meetings and work sessions, or on the House floor.
• Don't give up. The legislature is, well, political...things won't always go the way you hope. Compromises happen that you may not like. Keep fighting.

It was an energetic session filled with great tools and lessons (I have handouts I'm happy to share if anyone is interested). But what was most special, for me, was riding home with a man from Burundi who had attended the training with our group. He fled his home country because speaking out put him in danger. He told me he felt excited and empowered to know that, here in Maine, the leaders of our state (well, maybe not the Governor) want to hear what he has to say. That it is his right, even as a non-citizen, to speak up and tell his story---that his voice makes a difference. It reminded me how important it is for us all to find our voices--and to help our clients find theirs and advocate for themselves, with our support.

If you are not familiar with Maine Equal Justice Partners, they are an incredible resource. I definitely recommend reaching out to them if you need help, whether it's for a client, organization or a cause that's personally important to you. And I strongly urge everyone to learn about the specifics of the Governor's proposed budget and speak to your representatives in Augusta about areas that concern you.

"Pay for Success"

One element of the social labs approach that excited me was the attempt to shift from the idea of funding "proven" programs and instead supporting innovative risk-taking. The current paradigm--prove it, then we'll give you money--is challenging to organizations that are on the ground, working with people in communities ripe for change, with some exciting new ideas on what might work but simply lacking the resources to give them a shot. As someone who has done a fair amount of grant writing for a small grassroots nonprofit, the whole exercise of securing grants (or any other sort of funding, really) does not seem built to reward true innovation. It's more akin to trying to get your first "real" job out of college--in order to get a job, you need a proven track record of experience on your resume...but in order to get that experience, you need to get a job. A very high-stakes game of chicken and egg!

A quick Google search for "social labs success" pointed me to the Corporation for National and Community Service, the organization that oversees, among other things, the Americorps program. The page I landed on was called the "Social Innovation Fund." Here's the opening paragraph about the SIF model:

The Social Innovation Fund (SIF) is a key White House initiative and program of the Corporation for National and Community Service that awards grants to identify, validate, and grow promising approaches to challenges facing local communities.

It sounds promising--a government initiative that claims to want to support new ways of solving old as well as emerging challenges. There's a lot of language about finding "solutions that work", bringing private and public partners together to help people at the community level. But you'll forgive my skepticism about whether these are the words of leaders who are truly committed to this approach or just a bunch of marketing fluff to cover up the same old, same old approach.

One of the other programs tied to SIF is called Pay for Success. I get the idea--pour money into the initiatives that have proven effective. Certainly we don't want the government throwing money at things that don't work (Congress has already mastered that art). I wondered, though, who is defining "success"? What indicators are being evaluated to determine whether an effort is worth paying for? Is risk-taking and boldness being rewarded? I hope so--but as Hassan (2014) notes in the introduction to his book, when it comes to social change, "we fund tightly controlled five-year plans." (p.8) What will it take to shake us out of that mindset and understand that "failure" breeds innovation. Why is it that this concept is not hard to grasp when we're talking about how Post-It Notes were accidentally invented by 3-M, but not when we are talking about programs that affect entire communities?

As a somewhat related aside, I wanted to share the article below from  yesterday's Bangor Daily News. While I'm hardly objective on this issue (I feel strongly that cities should not be penalized for using GA to provide help to those in greatest need, no matter where they were born), I think it's clear that the governor is trying to convince the public that Portland has been unsuccessful in managing GA funds based on a singular measure--cost per person in poverty--without considering the full context. It's also clear to me that we are not going to solve this problem through the same approaches that have been used in the past.

Mayor calls DHHS claim that Portland mismanaging General Assistance a scheme to pit small Maine towns against cities

References:

Corporation for National and Community Service. Social innovation fund. Retrieved on February 10, 2015 from http://www.nationalservice.gov/programs/social-innovation-fund

Hassan, Z. (2014). The social labs revolution. San Francisco, CA: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc.

Thistle, S. (2015, February 9). Mayor blasts DHHS claim that Portland mismanages General Assistance. Sun Journal. Retrieved on February 10, 2015 from http://bangordailynews.com/2015/02/09/politics/mayor-calls-dhhs-claim-that-portland-mismanages-general-assistance-a-scheme-to-pit-small-maine-towns-against-cities/