Just Be the Congressman

Some years ago, I was meeting with someone with a bold vision: to build a Chicago high school centered on arts and global leadership. She was passionate, well-connected, and determined to bring a novel approach to education. But prospective funders weren't biting. They said her plan — which included bringing in artists and peacebuilders from around the world — was too ambitious and seemed too risky.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"Let me tell you a story," I said. "It might seem a bit unrelated at first, but bear with me..."

"Years ago, a charismatic political candidate — well-educated, wealthy, and well-known — asked for my advice. He was running for Congress for a second time and had lost badly in his previous try. When I asked him about the incumbent he was running against, he described him as a good guy who was terrible at constituent services. He said the incumbent’s staff was unresponsive and constituents were complaining about being ignored.

So, I told him, 'Stop campaigning and start being the congressman. Open an office, hold town halls, and help people cut through red tape. Use your campaign funds to actually serve the community you want to represent. Become a known quantity, someone voters appreciate before you ask for their vote.' Did he take my advice? Nope. And he lost even worse the second time.”

I paused, letting the story sink in.

"So, just like the candidate needed to demonstrate his worth to voters," I said, "you need to show people what you’re talking about. Stop selling your dream to funders and start living it. Instead of waiting for millions of dollars to materialize, launch your remarkable programs now. Build a fan base. Let the community and prospective funders experience the magic."

This same principle applies to all of us — entrepreneurs trying to get a new venture off the ground or nonprofits seeking financial support. Don't just talk about what you'll do. Figure out how to be the congressman now.

The Irrational Truth About Your Audience (and Why Advertisers Are Way Ahead of You)

Let's face it: your clients, customers, and donors are irrational. They're just like you. And when was the last time you made a major life decision based solely on a pro and con list? Sure, we like to think we're logical. We weigh the options, we compare features, we analyze the data... But is that really why you bought your car, chose your neighborhood, or said "I do" to your partner?

Nope. We run on gut feelings, instincts, and the occasional nudge from our social circles. (The exception? When we genuinely don't care about the options. That's when we pull out the spreadsheets to compare health insurance plans.)

Here's the funny thing: we know we're irrational, yet we somehow assume our audience is different. We bombard them with product benefits and logical arguments, convinced that'll seal the deal. If that were true, grocery store shelves would look a whole lot different. Forget the bright colors and cartoon mascots – we'd be staring at a list of ingredients and nutritional data.

I learned this lesson years ago while running political campaigns. We had these brilliant policy wonks crafting detailed position papers on every issue imaginable. Healthcare, climate change, economic policy – you name it, they had a 10-page treatise on it. And guess what? Nobody read them. (Except maybe other policy wonks.) These papers were crucial for credibility, but they rarely swayed voters. Because, like it or not, elections – like most decisions – generally aren't decided on logic.

So, what's the takeaway for you? Two things. 1. Do your homework: Make the logical case. Compare your features, highlight your benefits, and demonstrate your value. But don't expect this alone to change behavior. 2. Get inside your audience's head: Figure out what really motivates them. Is it the desire to belong? The need for approval? The warm fuzzies of helping others?

Advertisers have known this for years. They tap into our emotions, our aspirations, and our deepest desires. They understand that we're not computers – we're complex, messy, wonderfully irrational human beings. It's time we strategists caught up. Embrace the irrationality.

The Metrics You're Using Are Probably Wrong

We tend to think of metrics as sacred, handed down from on high like laws of physics. But here's the truth: they're invented. Somebody, somewhere, chose those measures because they served their interests. And ultimately, their metrics got so much traction that now everyone treats them like gospel.

There's nothing magical about ROI or EBITDA. There's nothing inherently true about GPA or box office receipts on opening weekend. In sports, everyone agrees on the measurements — points or runs scored — so we can figure out who wins. But in the rest of our lives, we just inherit these performance indicators and somehow come to believe they're the "right" ones.

Consider the nation of Bhutan. Nestled in the Himalayas, this small country decided to buck the trend. Instead of chasing Gross Domestic Product like everyone else, they declared their measure of success would be Gross National Happiness. They literally made it up. And it was a brilliant move. Of course, Bhutan and its population of 700,000 can't compete with other countries — much less its neighbors China and India — on pure economic output. But it can absolutely try to compete on how happy its citizens are.

This brings us to a crucial point: the metrics you choose should matter to your audience, not just to you. I've seen organizations stumble by focusing on what they care about most. That's the wrong approach. Choose something the people out there will care about, even if they don't know it yet.

For example, universities that can't boast the highest-profile professors often promote their low student-teacher ratios — something nobody talked about when I was in school. Why the shift? Because the ratio appeals to students and parents who value individual attention and a more personalized learning experience. These universities are playing to their strengths and their audience’s interests.

Here’s how I’m doing this in my own work. Families facing pediatric cancer are often left adrift. Sure, they get support from doctors, nurses, and hospitals. But there's little help for managing the rest of their lives — their finances, jobs, marriages, friends, or the patients’ siblings. And our research shows that this is partly because most of us don’t think or talk about all that other stuff outside the clinic.

So, my colleagues and I are developing a new way to capture all of that: whole family impact. We're hoping that by measuring this — and not just medical progress — we can change how families, nonprofits, foundations, and even businesses think about all the challenges related to pediatric cancer. We're not accepting the standard metrics; we're creating a new one that better reflects what matters.

What metrics are you blindly accepting? What new measure could you create to truly capture what’s important to your audience? Don't be afraid to challenge conventional wisdom and invent your own measure of success.

Stop Building Better Mousetraps: Why Nobody Cares About Your Brilliant Solution

A few years ago, a colleague and I poured our hearts and souls into a project called "Chicago Wonk." We built a platform that cut through the noise of public policy debates, presenting both sides of the argument in a clear, concise way. Users could weigh in on critical issues, and we'd deliver their opinions straight to policymakers. It was smart, it was innovative, it was...a total flop.

Why? Because nobody asked for it. Nobody was clamoring for a simplified way to engage with policy debates. We built an elegant solution to a problem that didn't exist. And that is the heartbreaking reality of the "better mousetrap" fallacy.

We're told, "Build it and they will come." But the truth is, they usually won't. You can have the most ingenious product, the most groundbreaking service, but if it doesn't solve a problem people actually have, it's destined to gather dust in the attic of good intentions. This isn't just about product companies. It applies to nonprofits, government agencies, service providers – anyone with an audience. Don't waste your time, effort, and resources developing answers to questions nobody is asking.

So, what's the secret? Solve problems your audience desperately wants solved. The more urgent the need, the better. It's that simple. When you address a burning pain point, people will beat a path to your door.

But here's the catch: You can persuade people they have a problem they didn't know about. Remember "restless legs syndrome"? Before a massive pharma campaign in 2003, most people had never heard of it. Suddenly, it was keeping Americans awake at night. Or consider the 2024 election. Illegal immigration was the hot-button issue, despite the fact that the vast majority of Americans are totally unaffected by it. A candidate hammered on the issue, media outlets amplified it, and a problem was born.

But here's the reality check: Unless you have a big pharma or presidential campaign budget, creating a perceived need is a risky game. It's far more effective to tap into existing anxieties, the things that keep your audience up at night. Stop building better mousetraps and start solving real problems.

Get People to Yes

We’ve all seen the bumper stickers urging us to “Stop War” or "End Racism.” They’re powerful messages for raising awareness and signaling support. But they often fall short of inspiring real, lasting change. To understand why, we need to consider how our brains are wired. Try this thought experiment: Don't think about a pink elephant...

Yeah, once somebody asks you to try, the pink elephant is pretty much all you can think about. That's because our brains are wired for action, not inaction. We're drawn to the affirmative and the constructive. Psychologists have found that framing goals in terms of positive action leads to greater motivation and persistence. It's simply easier for us to imagine doing something than not doing it.

This has implications for how you lead and manage change. First, make sure you’re out to do something, rather than stop something. But even if you have an affirmative mission, there are likely things you're asking people to not do. Maybe you're trying to reduce waste, or eliminate harmful practices. These are important goals, but if you want to truly inspire action, you need to go one step further. Instead of just saying "don't do this," figure out what you want people to do instead. Give them a "yes" to rally around.

I learned about this firsthand in my work with the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Rwanda. Like other museums dedicated to remembering such tragedies, the memorial does a powerful job of showing the horrors of genocide. But museums like this struggle to translate that awareness into action. People leave better informed but not necessarily inspired to do anything about it.

So, my colleagues and I did some digging. We interviewed people who had lived through the genocide. And we discovered something fascinating: Rwandans talk to their kids about the genocide differently than they do to visitors. They tell their kids about the horror, yes, but they also tell them about the heroes – ordinary people who risked their lives to save others. By focusing on the heroes, they were giving their children a "yes" – a positive action to emulate, a way to be part of the solution. See the difference? It's not just about saying "no" to genocide. It's about saying "yes" to heroism, to courage, to stepping up to make a difference.

This applies to all kinds of things. Take climate change. We're bombarded with messages about what to stop doing: stop driving gas-guzzlers, stop using plastic straws, stop eating meat. But where's the excitement about building a sustainable future? Where are the inspiring calls to action? So, here's my challenge to you: the next time you're facing a challenge, don't just settle for what you want to stop. Do the extra work to figure out what you want to start. What's the affirmative action? What's the "yes"?

Stop Trying So Hard: The Key to Breakthroughs

You can’t reason your way to a breakthrough. You might think that you can systematically think your way there. Scan the market, identify gaps, and voilà! A big, disruptive idea. A to B to breakthrough. Except it almost never works that way.

Consider the stories you know about breakthroughs. Archimedes in the bathtub. Newton under an apple tree. Alexander Fleming and his moldy bread. Or even the Pfizer scientists and Viagra. Brilliant people who changed the world accidentally. Sure, they thought a lot about the problems they were trying to solve, but it took serendipity to help them get there.

I've learned this the hard way. I've been ultra-disciplined and tried to factor my way to big, disruptive ideas for weeks or even months — particularly when I'm working with fancy organizations or people with lots of credentials. But time and again, I can't get there until I stop trying so hard and instead go deep on something unrelated. For the future of Jewish life in America, it was punk rock. For the efficacy of the United Nations, it was family dynamics.

Artists get this. Writers, painters, and composers call it inspiration, and they’re not nearly as finicky about where their breakthroughs come from. The lesson is this: big ideas are unpredictable, so think accordingly. Dig into something unrelated. It really doesn't matter what. Trying to make sense of something new will help you make novel connections and see more possibilities.