The Hour of the Shire-folk
Thoughts for Election Day. Or, when they big, we go local.
"So it all comes down to this."
Except it doesn't. Not even close.
Because no matter what happens tonight, the work goes on tomorrow of making our local communities safer, more livable, more inviting, more prosperous, and more resilient.
I resent how dehumanizing and all-consuming these presidential elections are. They turn neighbor against neighbor in an ugly national politics of cynicism and despair. They make it harder for us to work together across differences at the local level.
They also suck all the air out of the room. After the 2020 election, my boss Chuck Marohn wrote an article for Strong Towns in which he said, "Everything you are passionate about at the national level has a local analog that needs your attention." That's as true today as it was four years ago.
In fact, I want to propose that we view Election Day 2024 not as the end of something but the start.
From here on out, let's give the politicos as much of our time as they deserve...but no more. Then we'll turn our precious attention toward working for the common good on common ground (by which I mean our neighborhoods, the literal physical ground we share).
Talking with a friend about all this yesterday, I was reminded of two passages from The Fellowship of the Ring. Both are from the Council of Elrond, where the Fellowship is being formed and a plan made to destroy the One Ring of Power.
Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, acknowledges that the path to Mordor will be so difficult as to seem like folly. Then he says, "The road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far upon it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere."
And then this passage, after dear, brave Frodo volunteers to take the Ring, "though I do not know the way":
Elrond raised his eyes and looked at him, and Frodo felt his heart pierced by the sudden keenness of the glance. “If I understand aright all that I have heard,” [Elrond] said, “I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck?"
November 5th, 2024 is drawing to a close. Let's make November 6th "the hour of the Shire-folk."
This isn’t about hunkering down or hiding from whatever comes next. It is “shaking the towers and counsels of the Great” through brave acts of neighborliness and good work and civic engagement and charity and even enemy-love. We know better than anyone what our communities need and we have far more capacity to address them than we give ourselves credit for.
The journey won’t be to Mordor but across the street to the neighbor’s house—even the one with the political flag you hate—to lend a hand, loan a tool, share food, or to deliver an invitation to a block party.
This will make our communities stronger. It will also loosen the grip of corruptive power on our country, our towns, and our souls.