<![CDATA[Global Citizens Circle

<![CDATA[Global Citizens Circle - Blog]]>Mon, 10 Aug 2026 00:15:46 -0300EditMySite<![CDATA[The Table We Inherited]]>Sun, 09 Aug 2026 23:00:00 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/the-table-we-inherited

Maura Dunfey Hwang in Cloghane (An Clochán), Ireland

By Maura Dunfey Hwang

Everyone has a story. We should all be so lucky to tell our own.

My Dunfey story is not the story of the hotels. It isn’t about being the most charismatic person in the room, and it certainly isn’t about being the funniest. My story is about being a steady observer, someone who has watched generations gather around tables to talk about things that matter.

Fifty-two years ago, New England Circle, now Global Citizens Circle (GCC), was founded around a simple but radical idea: that bringing people together across differences could change the course of history.

I grew up on the edges of those tables. I never worked at the store on Broadway in Lowell, MA or “#7,” the restaurant at Hampton Beach. But at times, it feels like I’ve been hanging out at the end of the counter for 75 years, looking up from the Editorial page of the Boston Globe, with a cup of coffee and a donut, to say good morning to my cousins.

GCC hosted its first Circle in 1974 at the Parker House in Boston, after more than a decade of civic unrest in the United States. In the ensuing decades, GCC convened conversations on Northern Ireland’s Troubles, apartheid in South Africa, nuclear proliferation, homelessness, AIDS, immigration, and women’s rights. Presidents and activists may have attended, but the power was never in proximity to fame. It was in proximity to one another.

While I likely absorbed some of the content and spirit of social justice, I also quietly observed the invisible architecture beneath those conversations.

For every public gathering, there was a person who extended the initial invitation — who opened homes, made introductions, nurtured relationships long before anyone stepped up to a podium. For every hour spent on diplomacy, there were many more spent laying the relational groundwork beneath it. The Circle did not stand on charisma alone. It stood on genuine care.

Last year, I bought a used, round wooden table for our kitchen sunroom. We could have bought something new, but I wasn’t sure we really needed another table. My husband and I grew up in homes where things were repaired, not replaced, and money was spent carefully. We borrowed a friend’s truck and hauled it home ourselves.

That table has held homework, card games, family dinners, birthday cakes, some arguments, and many cups of coffee.

It has also wobbled from the start. It’s not structurally unstable. But if you lean on it, you feel it shift. Actually, it spins.

My husband and I manage complexity for a living. But we don't know how to fix our wobbling table.

Some people can assess the wobble and trace it back to the loose joint. It’s not that we couldn’t learn. It’s just not in our skill set.

Fortunately, we know that the table is structurally sound. Solid. Worth keeping.

Global Citizens Circle feels a bit like that at times.

It was built with intention. It has held extraordinary conversations for over fifty years. And it has always required tending.

In the preface to her memoir, "Counter Culture," my great-aunt Eleanor wrote about the responsibility of telling our family’s story. The calling to steward something meaningful is a blessing.

And it can also be a burden. To inherit something is to decide whether to keep tending it.

In 1999, when accepting the Solas (Light) Award from the Irish International Immigration Center, Eleanor reflected on the immigrant generations who came before us:

“There’s a vast world outside your own door —
so be sure when you set your table — there’s always room for one more.”

During COVID, I became captivated by genealogy. Historical records require skepticism and belief in equal measure. Family stories matter, but so do census records, immigration documents, and newspaper clippings. You learn to look closely. To question and to discern.

Discernment runs quietly through my family history, alongside songbooks, shared tears and laughter.

The work of extending a personal invitation, welcoming others, and creating a sense of belonging was never ornamental. It was structural. In many ways, it was survival. It's how families, communities, organizations, and even democracy endure.

At the end of "Counter Culture," Eleanor writes that the world has changed so much in the hundred years since her parents, my great-grandparents (Kate and Roy), had their first child. “What has not changed, though, and what our parents knew instinctively, is that people will always need to belong – to be invited, welcomed, included, respected. Around tables of inclusive, diverse conversations locally and globally, we continue to honor their lived lessons.”

And so here we are, 50 years later, asking: Who will help set the table?

Maura Dunfey Hwang, D.O., is a child and adolescent psychiatrist in the Philadelphia area and Clinical Assistant Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Pennsylvania. She serves in leadership roles with the Regional Council of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry of Eastern Pennsylvania & Southern New Jersey and the Delaware County Medical Society. Her work bridges children's mental health, education, public health, and advocacy, with a focus on systems, belonging, and community. She has served as a Global Advisor to Global Citizens Circle since 2025.

Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle.

Fifty-two years ago, New England Circle, now Global Citizens Circle (GCC), was founded around a simple but radical idea: that bringing people together across differences could change the course of history." - Maura Dunfey Hwang

]]><![CDATA[Summer Reading With Meaning: Counter Culture: Clams, Convents, and Circle of Global Citizens]]>Mon, 03 Aug 2026 00:35:45 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/summer-reading-with-meaning-counter-culture-clams-convents-and-circle-of-global-citizens

By Theresa de Langis, PhD

It’s been a wild summer in New England—days of hellish heat and yellowed smokey skies followed by winds carrying sweatshirt temperatures. The weather is apt metaphor for the state of the world. Exhausted by ceaseless vigilance for what comes next and the constant refrain of “this isn’t normal”, it’s easy to lose one’s bearings. I’ve been especially gratified to find a book that proved shelter from the storm, Eleanor Dunfey-Freiburger’s Counter Culture: Clams, Convents, and a Circle of Global Citizens.

The Dunfey clan is a cornerstone in New Hampshire history. The well-known Irish Catholic family of twelve children began their enterprises with a luncheonette in Lowell, Massachusetts, before opening a sliver of a clam shack in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, eventually evolving into Omni International Hotels.

That fantastical trajectory is laid out with careful detail by youngest sibling, Eleanor, over 300 pages drawn as much from scholarly research as from her mother’s own memoir, the poetry of elder sister Kay, and conversations with siblings. By the book’s end, I felt I had become an intimate member of a family built on optimism, gumption and a deep commitment to social justice.

Eleanor Dunfey-Frieburger with her award-winning memoir, "Counter Culture: Clams, Convents, and Circle of Global Citizens."

If you’re from the area, you’ll be interested in the book’s local New England history from the 1950s onward. To provide historical reference, the family’s first Hampton Beach venture in New Hampshire charged $1.20 for a plate of “Dunfey’s Famous Fried Clams,” and it was the first establishment to break a ban on selling pizza on the strip due to anti-Italian discrimination.

The memoir likewise brings to life seismic historical moments and iconic personalities that span the globe, invited to New England through the hospitality of the Dunfey family—Monica Williams, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Harry Belafonte, to name a few; the Northern Ireland Peace Talks, the Anti-Apartheid movement in South Africa, and the rise of the Democratic Committee in New Hampshire and nationally were all influenced by one or more Dunfey family member.

As the book unfolds, so does the family’s philosophy of “hospitality” as an expression of social justice—the “counter culture” of the book’s title. Rather than structured around events, the memoir is centered on relationships. At the heart of each relationship is the invitation—an unrestricted welcome to “come as you are” (indeed, the Dunfey’s slogan when they owned the historic Lamie’s Inn and Tavern). The book has many such invitations, but one example will suffice.

Days after her husband, Martin Luther King, Jr., had been assassinated, Coretta Scott King needed refuge from national attention and ongoing security threats. An invitation was extended to her and  her four young children to spend the summer at the Dunfey family cottage on Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire.

William Loeb had already editorialized in the Union Leader (the state’s largest, and most conservative, newspaper) that brother Jack Dunfey was holding Communist cell meetings at his home in Durham and “harboring” a black student from Keene who was attending the University of New Hampshire. While the Union Leader knew the King family was somewhere in New Hampshire, the “hiding” place was never divulged until years later, giving time for the family to heal in the embrace of friendship, and Coretta Scott King the time to begin writing her own memoir, "My Life with Martin Luther King, Jr."

The Dunfey creed of hospitality is attributed to the author’s parents. All twelve children were expected by father, LeRoy (“Roy”), to work the counters of the family’s several establishments (at times, waking in the middle of the night to make their shifts). According to mother, Catherine (“Kate”), the counter culture their father created is where “all twelve children learned about the world and people’s needs.” Her own personal slogan: “Treat each person as though they are a guest in your own home.”

Evocative of a secular radical hospitality, the Dunfey’s counter culture extended unconditional welcome, especially to strangers, centering those marginalized on the fringes of society.  The memoir, from its first to last page, shows how such an ethos—whether at a luncheonette or during international peace negotiations—opens space where people, from all walks of life, can be seen, heard and valued.

As the Dunfey enterprise moved from “success to significance”, it established the Global Citizens Circle. The non-profit still exists, gathering people from diverse backgrounds, generations and opinions “around the table” to hash out difficult conversations in authentic dialogue. The aim: to build trust, and from trust, change. Circles have been convened around the world and in the United States, bridging differences through relationships (think Protestant and Catholic participants at many Circles in Northern Ireland from the early 1970s on).

In a world that runs as hot and cold as today’s, the Dunfey legacy of counter culture, carried forward by Global Citizens Circle, is needed more than ever.  The memoir reminds us that we’ve been through divisive times before and have weathered the storm. Global Citizen Circle invites people to find common ground for a shared future as members of an extended family.

“Counter Culture” will leave you smiling with reminisces of mid-century New England and the New Hampshire seashore. More so, you may be inspired, as I was, to a revived optimism, to strike up conversation with a stranger, perhaps even invite them to your home for dinner—for after all, to quote Eleanor, “Life stories evolve from such invitations.” And, the book suggests, so does the world we want to call home.

Theresa de Langis, PhD, is an academic, researcher, and policy analyst at the intersection of women’s rights, sexual violence, and post-conflict justice. She’s recently repatriated to the U.S. after living in Cambodia for more than a decade. Dr. de Langis is currently adjunct faculty of the School of Arts, Sciences, and Education at Southern New Hampshire University. She is an Advisory Board Member of Global Citizens Circle since 2025.

The Dunfey legacy of the Global Citizens Circle is needed now more than ever, where we’ve seemed to have lost the capacity to engage in civil discourse across seemingly intrenched differences." - Theresa de Langis, PhD

]]><![CDATA[GCC Summer Reading With Meaning: Lighting the Fires of Freedom]]>Mon, 20 Jul 2026 01:12:56 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/gcc-summer-reading-with-meaning-lighting-the-fires-of-freedom

By Pamme Boutselis

Continuing on with our Summer Reading With Meaning series, Global Citizens Circle recommends “Lighting the Fires of Freedom” by Janet Dewart Bell as your next read. You may remember Bell as one of our discussion leaders in October 2021 for our Circle on Critical Race Theory. The widow of the iconic Derrick Bell, recognized for his work in developing critical race theory, she is also widely known for her work as a social justice advocate, activist, executive coach, motivational speaker, communications strategist and management consultant.

This book, “Lighting the Fires of Freedom,” has received vast acclaim, as the winner of the Studs and Ida Terkel Prize, recommended by The New York Times, The Washington Post, Book Riot and Autostraddle, and was nominated for a 2019 NAACP Image Award, noted as a groundbreaking collection of profiles of African American women leaders in the 20th-century fight for civil rights.

Pamme Boutselis is an award-winning writer and content producer, currently serving as a senior director of content marketing and a communication adjunct at Southern New Hampshire University. She loves hearing and sharing stories. As a writer spanning a 25-plus-year career, her work has been featured in print and online via news media, career and education-focused blogs, regional magazines, technology publications and more.

A serial volunteer, Boutselis has been a TEDx organizer since 2013 and a speaker coach. She’s been fortunate to work with dozens of nonprofits throughout the years and serves as a communication advisor for Global Citizens Circle. Connect with her on LinkedIn.

Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle.

]]><![CDATA[Introducing GCC Summer Reading With Meaning: Call Me American]]>Mon, 06 Jul 2026 01:31:36 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/introducing-gcc-summer-reading-with-meaning-call-me-american

By Pamme Boutselis

This summer, Global Citizens Circle will be sharing books by incredible writers whose stories deserve to be read, reflected on, and talked about. Some are voices we’ve had the privilege of knowing, some are writers we deeply admire, and some are stories we simply believe need to be shared.

I remember the day so well. I was driving down the highway, engaged in a series of errands that afternoon, and selected an episode of the “This American Life” podcast to keep me company. It was a rebroadcast of Episode 560: "Abdi and the Golden Ticket.” I had never listened to the original episode, which aired in 2015, and quickly became engrossed in the story.

I was fascinated to learn that the U.S. held what essentially was a lottery in other countries, with hopeful applicants vying for the chance to win a visa to America. One of those lottery winners was Somalian Abdi Nor Iftin. Yet, that win wasn’t a guarantee to easily get to the U.S. According to the podcast, “more than half of the people who win each year never make it.”

In Abdi’s case, he was living in Nairobi, Kenya, at the time, a dangerously volatile place for Somalians who were being rounded up and taken away by Kenyan police. He went into hiding, but managed to communicate regularly with former reporter Leo Hornak as events unfolded, much of which became the basis of this riveting podcast episode.

Not surprisingly, I sat in my car completely rapt by this narrative. I took a longer route than necessary simply to keep listening to Abdi’s story. As I waited in line at a McDonald’s drivearound (the only true place to get a Diet Coke with ice on a hot summer day), I learned the reason for this rebroadcast; Abdi had written a book, which would be released shortly. I pulled over in the parking lot to see if I could pre-order it.

The book, “Call Me American: A Memoir,” delved deeper into Abdi’s experiences, from his youth in war-torn Somalia to his delight in what he learned of American culture through movies, his time as a refugee in Kenya and ultimately, his move to the U.S. It is a story fraught with peril, determination and courage, and as you can imagine, when that book arrived, I read it nonstop from beginning to end.

And I didn’t just read it; I told people about it and bought it as gifts. Abdi’s story revealed a part of the world I had known little to nothing about and his resilience inspired me. I wanted others to know Abdi, too. I still do.

At this point, I had been involved for some time as an organizer for TEDxAmoskeagMillyard, a local variation of the greater known TED, which allows communities to apply for licensing to host their own events worldwide. You can bet that I nominated Abdi as a speaker—and he was selected for our 2019 event, delivering this talk, “The story behind every refugee.”

I continue to tout Abdi’s book, which is now available in a young reader’s edition as well. I followed his journey to becoming a U.S. citizen in 2020, applauding the perseverance that got him there but saddened at the state the U.S. was currently in at that time. I still carry the hope that one day we can become the America he yearned so desperately to be a part of.

I shared Abdi’s story with Eleanor Dunfey-Frieburger and Theo Spanos Dunfey, and later, one of GCC’s emerging leaders, Stanley Asango, who immediately wanted to read his book. Abdi is now a global advisor to GCC and was part of an Emerging Leaders session on resilience led by Stanley in 2025.

As we kick off GCC’s Summer Reading with Meaning series, I encourage you to also pick up Abdi’s book. I guarantee you’ll learn a lot and be tremendously moved by all that he experienced.

]]><![CDATA[The Forest Is Not Separate From the World: AI, Leadership, and the Lesson of Treebeard]]>Mon, 15 Jun 2026 13:02:48 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/the-forest-is-not-separate-from-the-world-ai-leadership-and-the-lesson-of-treebeard

Funny how certain stories hit differently depending on the moment in history.

Recently, while revisiting J.R.R. Tolkien’s "The Lord of the Rings," particularly "The Two Towers," I found myself thinking less about the battles and heroes, and more about Treebeard and the Ents.

For much of the story, Treebeard and the Ents see the growing conflicts across Middle-earth as distant problems. The wars of men, wizards, and kingdoms are unfortunate, certainly, but not truly their concern. Their focus is the forest. Preservation. Stability. Their own corner of the world.

Then Merry and Pippin guide Treebeard toward Isengard.

And suddenly, the illusion of separation disappears.

The trees have been cut down. The land has been industrialized. Smoke pours into the sky. The destruction is no longer abstract or theoretical. It is personal. The conflict had already reached the forest long before Treebeard was willing to acknowledge it.

Honestly, I think about that scene often when I think about artificial intelligence.

Right now, many people still view AI as something happening “out there” in Silicon Valley, boardrooms, research labs, or tech companies. Something for software engineers, executives, policymakers, or futurists to figure out. Something that affects other industries, other jobs, or other people.

But AI is not a distant issue anymore.

It is already reshaping education, healthcare, finance, media, government, labor markets, communication, and even human relationships. It is influencing how information is distributed, how decisions are made, how students learn, how workers are evaluated, and increasingly, how power itself is concentrated.

Whether we want to engage with these questions or not, they are already shaping the world around us.

And that is precisely why more people need to be part of the conversation now, before decisions become irreversible and systems become entrenched.

To be clear, I am not anti-AI.

Far from it.

I believe AI has the potential to help solve extraordinary human problems. It can expand access to knowledge, accelerate scientific discovery, improve healthcare outcomes, support accessibility, reduce repetitive administrative work, and help organizations operate more effectively. In many cases, AI can augment human capability in genuinely meaningful ways.

Used responsibly, AI can absolutely be a force for good.

But history also teaches us that technological progress without thoughtful human stewardship can create enormous instability. The printing press transformed civilization, but it also fueled upheaval. Industrialization created prosperity, but often at tremendous human cost before labor protections and societal norms evolved alongside it.

Technology itself is not inherently moral. Its impact depends on the systems, incentives, and people guiding its adoption.

That is why I become concerned when conversations around AI focus exclusively on efficiency, disruption, or shareholder value while treating human consequences as secondary considerations.

There is a growing tendency in some corners of the tech world to speak about human labor as though it is merely friction in a system waiting to be optimized away. Entire professions are discussed as cost centers rather than communities of people whose work provides meaning, stability, dignity, and identity.

And while I understand the argument that “new jobs will emerge,” I also think many leaders underestimate how destabilizing rapid transition can become if societies are not prepared for it economically, culturally, or psychologically.

Human beings are not simply economic inputs.

Work is tied deeply to purpose, self-worth, community, and social structure. When people begin to feel discarded, unheard, or economically irrelevant, history shows us that instability follows. Distrust grows. Polarization deepens. Institutions weaken.

We are already seeing signs of this tension emerging.

At the same time, there is another issue we should discuss more openly: concentration of power.

AI development increasingly requires immense computational infrastructure, capital investment, proprietary data, and energy resources. That reality naturally consolidates influence into the hands of a relatively small number of corporations and institutions. Whether intentional or not, that concentration raises important questions about accountability, transparency, equity, and democratic participation.

We can already see this in the physical footprint of AI: the rapid expansion of data centers, the strain on electrical grids, the demand for water, and the concerns from communities worried about costs, land use, and environmental impact. These are not abstract technical issues. They are local, human, and civic issues.

Who shapes these systems?
Who benefits most from them?
Who bears the risks?
Who gets left behind?

Those are not merely technical questions. They are human questions. Societal questions. Leadership questions.

And that is why I keep returning to Treebeard.

His mistake was not ignorance. It was disengagement. It was assuming the larger forces reshaping the world would somehow stop at the edge of his forest.

I think many organizations, leaders, and even everyday citizens risk making the same mistake with AI today.

This conversation cannot belong solely to technologists. It cannot belong solely to governments or corporations. Teachers, workers, students, artists, healthcare professionals, business leaders, parents, and communities all deserve a voice in shaping what comes next.

Because AI is not just a technology story.

It is a human story.

The good news is that I remain fundamentally optimistic about people.

One of the things AI cannot replicate is human wisdom rooted in lived experience, empathy, ethics, culture, and shared responsibility. Human beings still determine the values embedded into institutions and systems. We still choose what we prioritize. We still decide whether technology serves humanity, or humanity bends entirely around technology.

That choice remains ours, at least for now.

But meaningful choices require engagement.

So perhaps the real leadership challenge of this moment is not whether we can build increasingly powerful AI systems. Clearly, we can.

The deeper question is whether we are willing to engage thoughtfully, collectively, and courageously enough to ensure those systems ultimately strengthen human dignity rather than diminish it.

Because unlike Treebeard, we do not get to say we were never warned that the world outside the forest would eventually reach us.

Shawn Carey, PMP, is Director, Project Management Office at Measurement Incorporated, where he leads project and portfolio management efforts supporting large-scale educational assessment programs. His work focuses on operational leadership, organizational strategy, and the intersection of human-centered systems and emerging technologies, including artificial intelligence.

In addition to his professional work, Shawn serves as a global advisor for Global Citizens Circle, where he contributes perspectives on the societal, ethical, and leadership implications of AI and technological change. He is particularly interested in how organizations can adopt innovation responsibly while preserving human dignity, trust, and meaningful engagement in an increasingly automated world.

AI is not just a technology story. It is a human story." - Shawn Carey

]]><![CDATA[Betting on the Future of New Hampshire]]>Mon, 01 Jun 2026 14:38:22 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/betting-on-the-future-of-new-hampshire

By Theo Spanos Dunfey

Global Citizens Circle is proud to announce an exciting partnership with Revo Casino and Social House in Manchester, New Hampshire, running from May 31st through June 9th.

If charitable gaming is new to you, here's something worth knowing: New Hampshire operates the only model of its kind in the United States. Unlike anywhere else in the country, the state legally requires casino-style gaming establishments to direct a significant share of their revenues toward local non-profits, making every hand dealt and every spin placed a small act of community investment.

The roots of this system go back to 1977, when New Hampshire first legalized "games of chance,” think bingo and Las Vegas nights, allowing non-profits to host limited fundraising events. Nearly three decades later, the legislature took it further, permitting registered charities to partner with commercial operators, with a mandate that 35% of gross gaming revenues flow directly to state-approved causes.

For Global Citizens Circle, this partnership is more than a fundraising opportunity — it's a natural extension of who we are. The funds raised during our May 31st–June 9th window will deepen our work with emerging leaders across New Hampshire. Our approach is intentional: we go deeper, not wider.

We invest in long-term relationships with young people because we know that real impact ripples outward. When a young person's life is genuinely changed, they carry that forward into their families, schools, and communities. The thread connecting global awareness to local action is at the heart of everything we do.

As the nation prepares to celebrate its 250th anniversary, the timing of this partnership feels especially meaningful. Revo Casino President Aaron Gomes put it well: "At Revo, our name represents 'revolution' -- a nod to both innovation and New Hampshire's proud legacy in the American Revolution." That spirit of bold ideas rooted in a sense of place and purpose resonates deeply with our own mission.

Together, Global Citizens Circle and Revo Casino share a commitment to the people of New Hampshire, across generations, and to making a difference that can actually be felt at the local level. We hope you'll join us.

This partnership creates a significant opportunity to raise much-needed funds for GCC's programming each year.

Theo Spanos Dunfey is president and executive director of Global Citizens Circle. She has over 30 years of global experience in non-profits, higher education, and international affairs. Dunfey is a graduate of the Fletcher School of Law & Diplomacy at Tufts University, where she earned a Master of Arts in Law and Diplomacy, concentrating on American diplomatic history, international communication, and international development. It was during her studies at the Fletcher School that she first began volunteering with Global Citizens Circle’s Boston programs. She also earned a bachelor’s in international relations and French at Brown University. With a primary focus on global issues, Dunfey taught international development at the University of New England, led student groups on global citizenship service-learning trips abroad, directed the World Affairs Council of Maine, and produced numerous global editorial conferences for The WorldPaper before taking the helm at Global Citizens Circle.

Together, Global Citizens Circle and Revo Casino share a commitment to the people of New Hampshire, across generations, and to making a difference that can actually be felt at the local level." - Theo Spanos Dunfey

]]><![CDATA[Fiduciary In All Things (FIAT): Its Origins]]>Mon, 04 May 2026 14:18:40 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/fiduciary-in-all-things-fiat-its-origins

By George Kinder

We have it in our power to begin the world over again.
— Thomas Paine
I have been concerned for some time about the state of humanity. The feeling has increased over the last 10 years. I am concerned about the things that I care about most, like how we treat each other, the vast inequalities amongst human beings, the state of Mother Earth, democracy, and perhaps most important of all I am concerned about misrepresentations of the truth by those in power, those whom we should most trust in the community we call civilization.

Coming out of the banking crisis of 2008, I suspected that although humanity seemed to be polarized, perhaps, in truth, everyone was concerned about the same things. And that we mostly wanted the same solutions. This idea launched my book, “A Golden Civilization & The Map of Mindfulness,” and a book tour to far corners of the globe. As I traveled, I was searching for how to create a vision strong enough that the whole world would act on it. To test my intuition, wherever I went I invited audiences through a structured exercise, to design their own vision of a Golden Civilization.

Sure enough, whether I went to a rich country or to a poor country, and whether I went to a democratic country or a dictatorship or somewhere in between, everywhere people wanted similar things. Everybody wanted less inequality. They wanted adequate healthcare, food, and shelter. They wanted an end to corruption. They wanted an end to racism and to bigotry. They wanted kindness and good humor. They wanted a richness of culture. They wanted to be able to trust their scientists. They wanted trustworthiness everywhere. They wanted all media to tell the truth and to be trustworthy. This discovery was quite wonderful.

I captured the vision words, weighted by frequency of use, from the first 20 conversations into a word-cloud shaped like the Earth.

Golden Civilization Conversations Word Cloud: Vision words weighted by the frequency that they came up n conversation during the first 20 Golden Civilization Conversations led by George Kinder around the globe.

How self-centered we have been playing one country versus another, one team versus another, one person versus another. For generations, we’ve lived with the notion that evolution is about competition, but it’s much more clearly about Gaia and the creation of expanding environments of freedom. As the world becomes smaller and more accessible to us, it becomes our responsibility to create environments where all creatures thrive. We are being called as a species to deliver a structure of kindness, freedom, innovation, compassion, resilience, and sustainability for the whole Earth, for our descendants, and for all generations to come.

What does that look like?
How do we begin?
What is the vision?

As I reflected on these experiences, I began a search for the simplest of pathways to create a Golden Civilization across the world. Having minored in economics at Harvard, I made a point of taking time each year to study the theories of the latest Nobel Prize winners. I revisited some of the economic thinking I had learned.

Two hundred and fifty years ago, at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, there was an explosion of innovation, of creativity, and of the production of material things that would lead humanity to create the world we are now in, enabling many of us to live longer, healthier, and richer lives and be connected to each other all over the world.

Clearly, the combination of capitalism, democracy, and the rule of law produced something remarkable, bringing to much of humanity greater longevity, greater leisure, and greater freedoms. But if our system was really the best that there could be, why is it that at the top of every hierarchy of power after these 250 years of innovation, we don’t find the very best of humanity, our wisdom and our compassion? Wouldn’t the best system automatically deliver the very best of humanity into every aspect of our lives?

Something at the very base of the system is awry in the design of every organizational structure, something that keeps each institution from acting automatically with wisdom and kindness, so much so that no institution anywhere models it. We are back to the model of competition, where self-interest comes first. Our institutional structures are designed for self-interest to flourish. Rather than virtuous action, it’s self-interest that’s baked in.

Think about it. When we give the right to incorporate or the right to govern to a person or an organization, we give the potential for enormous power. And they can leverage that power through hierarchy, minimize the threat of lawsuits with limited liability protection, and get special tax rates. They can further leverage their power to astronomical levels with capital and debt and through their ability to communicate. With all this power at their fingertips, is it any wonder that the production and delivery of humanity’s innovations, although they touch every aspect of our lives, is more tainted by the self-interest of hierarchies than touched by human virtue?

For all the power we have granted their self-interest, why don’t we require something of them in return? What if we simply required each of them as a consequence of incorporation, whether they are corporations, nonprofits, or governments, to act in a humane way? Simply require them to be humane.

But rather than require something of them, we keep giving more to them. After thousands of years of developing what it is to have secured rights as human beings in relation to the powerful institutions that govern our lives, we’ve granted a lot of those rights back to institutions as if they were human. We have granted them the power to dominate how we think through their ownership or influence of media, including through non-profits and their own advertising. And we’ve granted them the enormous power to influence elections in ways that takes away our democratic freedom.

Only now do we realize that in using those rights, some of the most powerful have come to threaten our deepest values, our lives, our democracies, the lives of Earth’s creatures, and the stability of the planet we live on. We feel diminished, as if civilization is not ours but our institutions’. But civilization is ours. It is meant to be a domain of freedom, not for them but for us.

It’s time we asked new and existing institutions (corporate, non-profit, governmental) to place humanity first, to place the truth first, to place democracy first, and to place the Earth first ahead of their own self-interest, as a requirement of their existence. This is the essence of the FIAT movement.

Here is the simple, one-sentence legislative proposal that requires just that.

“A Fiduciary standard of obligation is required for all institutions (corporate, non-profit, and governmental) to place the interests of all stakeholders, of truth, of humanity, democracy, and the living planet that sustains us, first above their own self-interest.”

We fought a revolution in America for democracy, to establish human rights, and to free ourselves of the hierarchy of mad King George. But now, as a consequence of our system, we have created many hierarchies as powerful and more. It is time for us as a species to free the world as well as ourselves of the hierarchies that have power over us and that can diminish our freedom and guarantee instead that each of them always works in the best interests of humanity.

This simple piece of legislation will make sure this happens. The idea and the language are simple enough to spread across the globe. Through speaking engagements, I’ve shared these ideas, reaching many parts of the world. It’s easy to think of obstacles to the accomplishing of such a human right, but at this stage, it’s the vision that’s most important to establish. A strong enough vision will conquer all obstacles, particularly when it’s the movement of a people, a species, inspired by the same torch.

With the richest and most powerful billionaires, companies, and media moguls likely to oppose placing the interests of truth, democracy, Mother Earth, and humanity above their own self-interest, it is imperative we create a huge grass-roots movement toward Fiduciary In All Things becoming the law of the land.

Many who first hear the idea don’t understand what the word “fiduciary” means, and to some it can seem controversial. I chose the term “fiduciary” because of its linguistic roots and its legislative usage. Fiduciary is an obligation for trustworthy service to others.

At present all corporations have a single fiduciary responsibility. It is to their shareholders. All the power of their hierarchy and leverage is required to maximize profit for their shareholders alone. That is the nub of our problem. For a civilization to be a domain of freedom for all, hierarchies of power must have a fiduciary responsibility to all of us, and to truth and to Gaia and democracy, as well.

I’ve been sharing simple statements to help bridge the gap between the term fiduciary and its meaning.

We need a standard for humanity.
We need a standard for humanity that is trustworthy in all things.
Every institution we create must be trustworthy in all things, no exceptions.
Fiduciary means trustworthy.
Fiduciary is the legal term for trustworthy service to others, placing their interest always above one’s own.
A one-sentence legislative proposal could change the world.
A fiduciary standard of obligation is required for all institutions, corporate, nonprofit, governmental, to place the interests of all stakeholders, of truth, of humanity, democracy, and the living planet that sustains us first above their own self-interest.
Trustworthy institutions as fiduciaries to us all tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth in all communications.
Trustworthy institutions as fiduciaries to us all put the health of democracy and Mother Earth above their own self-interest.
Let’s make fiduciary and the trustworthiness of our institutions the law of the land.

Even more accessible than words for a movement to go viral are images.

In the United States, consumers can find a Certified Organic symbol on any organically processed food that is certified by the USDA. This simple symbol indicates to a consumer that the product has fulfilled conditions on how they are produced, processed, transported, and stored.

For the Fiduciary In All Things movement, I’ve created easily recognizable symbols that can go on an organization’s website to symbolize that they care about the humane treatment of their employees, of democracy, and of the living planet that sustains them.

Fiduciary In All Things Legislative Proposal: A one-sentence legislative proposal crafted by George Kinder that advocates for all institutions to place the interests of all stakeholders above their own self-interest.

Fiduciary In All Things Globe Logo: A logo that can help spread awareness of the FIAT movement by adding it to your social media posts, websites, headers, and email signatures.

Fiduciary In All Things Square Logo: A logo that can help spread awareness of the FIAT movement by adding it to your social media posts, websites, headers, and email signatures.

You can popularize these symbols by sharing them on social media and placing them on your website and in your communications to demonstrate your support of the vision of a fiduciary world.
We have a strong vision. Let’s spread it widely. I’m optimistic that we can do this, despite those of enormous wealth and power that would prefer institutions to work solely for them. Already there are significant existing structures that can support the implementation of legislation. They come from the ESG movement, Business Roundtable, B Corps, and many organizations and corporations looking to put humanity’s interests ahead of their own self-interest. Extraordinarily helpful as each of these may be, at this point, establishing the vision is even more important than solving obstacles. It’s time to make Fiduciary In All Things the law of the land, by making its vision ubiquitous and for all people.

Imagine all people of the Earth empowered, supported, and inspired, not diminished by the systems that surround them. Just a single sentence legislative proposal can start this and can change the world. Let’s establish the vision. We need all hands on deck. Please join us. Share what #FiduciaryInAllThings means to you. Place the symbols on your social media headers and banners, and on your website. Let’s make it happen.

Consider these questions:

What is it that you can do to popularize Fiduciary In All Things across your networks, including through political and service organizations?
What are some possible challenges that this movement could face? How might we overcome them?
What are some speaking engagements, small or large, that you could arrange to help spread FIAT?

International thought leader and author George Kinder has been at the forefront of the financial services industry for decades, spearheading the financial life planning movement that identifies clients’ dreams of freedom and then delivers them with entrepreneurial energy. Through books, workshops, and speaking engagements, George has trained thousands of professionals globally in financial life planning. After 30 years as a financial planner and tax adviser, he founded the Kinder Institute of Life Planning in 2003. In "The Three Domains of Freedom," his latest of 12 books, George advocates a universal fiduciary standard across all institutions. In 2025, he was awarded the Innovator Founder visa by the UK Home Office to bring FIAT directly into businesses globally through transformative workshops and talks.

“A Fiduciary standard of obligation is required for all institutions (corporate, non-profit, and governmental) to place the interests of all stakeholders, of truth, of humanity, democracy, and the living planet that sustains us, first above their own self-interest.” - George Kinder

]]><![CDATA[The Right to Travel, The Right to Live: Tourism’s Responsibility to Locals]]>Mon, 04 May 2026 00:03:02 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/the-right-to-travel-the-right-to-live-tourisms-responsibility-to-locals

By Eryn Gordon

When someone gets the opportunity to travel, they’re agreeing to a life-changing experience, where cultural immersion, language barriers, and the ability to meet diverse people create an opportunity for a broader perspective. Travel changes us, and most would agree that change is for the better, but are the places we visit experiencing positive change as well?

In some cases, the answer is no. A few of the world’s most beloved destinations are suffering from their own popularity, in what is called overtourism, the phenomenon of when too many visitors congregate into a specific destination. Overtourism results in uncomfortable crowding, but can also lead to environmental problems, housing inequality, price surges, and loss of cultural identity. One such example is Venice, Italy.

As travelers exploring Venice, we get a pretty clear idea of what overtourism looks like on a typical day. Mid-morning at Saint Mark’s Square. Add in some warm weather and blue skies, and you have a recipe for shoulder-to-shoulder crowds that takes ages to maneuver through. Naturally, this is a nuisance for visitors, as we might be hustling through the crowd to keep in line with a tour guide on foot, or might be running to a lunch reservation. We might get exhausted from having to rub elbows and backs with strangers and ultimately end the day by collapsing with relief into our fluffy Airbnb beds.

The experience of a local is another story.

The city receives over 30 million annual visitors, contrasting the mere 50,000 residents. 6 out of 10 homes are designated as “tourist only rentals,” leaving about 40% of places to live available to locals. For some who have lived their entire lives in Venice, the city is rapidly changing. Beloved shops replaced by globally recognizable chains; shops selling mass-produced souvenirs take over the boutiques. If the number of people living in Venice continues to decline, it’s estimated that there will no longer be any true local residents of the city come 2030.

However, when you ask a local Venetian what the true root of the problem is, they often do not say its overtourism, but the lack of local regulations and available education. There is truly no other place like Venice. Paul Rosenberg, a resident of Venice and owner of Campaign for a Living Venice, once told me that when he walks down the street, he sees at least one person experiencing their dream in real life.

Venetians know the magic of their city and are happy to share it with others. But it needs to be done so responsibly, otherwise Venice as we know it may cease to exist.

This all ties back to the right to travel, and perhaps even the need to travel, but also, the right locals have to their city.

When I began the research for my TEDx talk, What it means to be a good traveler, it was important to hear from travel professionals, but it was essential to learn from the locals who actually have to deal with the negative impacts of tourism every day, night, and even during the slow season.

I began seeking out locals, not only from Venice, but in Barcelona, Paris, Bangkok, Lake Tahoe, and a few other notable world destinations suffering from their own success. So many of the people I spoke to share a similar sentiment. They didn’t blame tourists for wanting to come to their city or country but wanted better systems to ensure that the place remained habitable.

As I mentioned with Venice, it comes down to a lack of education and regulations. The regulations are, unfortunately, out of our hands for the most part. The average traveler (me included) likely cannot lobby with a law maker for better tourism guardrails on the opposite hemisphere. But here is the thing we can do—we can learn about how that specific destination is being impacted by tourism and do our best to mitigate our contribution.

Because overtourism affects different places in different ways, the answer to this question will vary, but a quick internet search should help give you an idea of how that destination is experiencing tourism.

For example, the overwhelming majority of the coastline in The Bahamas has been bought up by resorts, which means that a small percentage of beach access is actually available to people who live there. As it happens, many of these resorts are all-inclusive, which means that the majority of visitors do not carry cash. Instead, you could carry a waterproof bag with small bills and be sure you tip every person waiting on you. If you feel comfortable doing so, you may skip the resort altogether and try a locally-owned bed and breakfast, further ensuring your tourist dollars help the local economy.

Lastly, many of the locals felt that in the fight for ethical and regulated tourism, they were engaged in a losing battle. There is big money in the tourism industry and from the perspective of lawmakers, it doesn’t make economic sense to stifle tourism. In a lot of ways, we as travelers have quite a lot of power when we visit a destination—some would say it’s an imbalance of power.

I think we have a great opportunity to change the course of tourism, and it starts with the choices we make abroad. Our power as travelers is to leave the places we visit a little better than how we found them. Whether that means uplifting residents, flushing the local economy with tourist dollars, supporting small businesses, or a combination of all three. Overtourism may be hurting some places, but we have the power and the responsibility to shift this.

Eryn Gordon is a published travel writer and the founder of Earth To Editorial, a community for authentic and sustainable travel. She's also a journalist and TEDx speaker. Every month, she helps 10,000 travelers unlock a sense of adventure, learn how to explore ethically, and become stewards of their favorite destinations.

Our power as travelers is to leave the places we visit a little better than how we found them." - Eryn Gordon

]]><![CDATA[The Thawing Out of an Idealist]]>Mon, 06 Apr 2026 14:10:11 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/the-thawing-out-of-an-idealist

By Andrew Boutselis

One morning about a year ago, I was drinking coffee in my Brooklyn apartment when there was a knock on the door. My wife had left for the day and we were not expecting any deliveries, so I was naturally perturbed by the disturbance to such a sacred morning ritual. Like most New Yorkers, I contain that paradox of being openly friendly to strangers, while holding any waste of my time in utter contempt. It’s the same trait that leads us to yield to a pedestrian with a pleasant wave yet lean on our horn when they don’t cross the street quickly enough.

Closing my robe tightly around my neck, I looked through the peephole to assess the uninvited visitor. Waiting patiently on the other side of the door, stood a bearded, Caucasian man roughly my age, with a Mets hat and stack of pamphlets. He’s either delivering lost mail or the good word of Christ, I assumed, and took my chance as I turned over the deadbolt and swung open the door.

He was neither a neighbor nor a missionary but rather a political advocate, specifically for the Democratic Socialist mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani. I knew little of Mamdani beyond his striking name, made all the more memorable by the retro font used by his campaign that would look more at home on the front of a tiki bar than a political banner.

As a disillusioned Democrat who was quickly devolving into a full-blown curmudgeon since moving to Brooklyn many moons ago, the universal championing of Mamdani by hipster progressives primed me to write him off with little more than an eye roll without having done much investigation.

Prescribing to neighborly etiquette more than any political philosophy, I gave the man the floor to sell me whatever rehearsed talking point he had. After a brief introduction, he asked me as a New Yorker what issues concerned me the most. Hoping to pass whatever moral purity test I anticipated coming my way and return to my coffee, I rattled off an uninspired sentiment about the homeless crisis and the need for the city to do more to protect its most vulnerable population.

The man in the door nodded politely and agreed, as if I had said something of substance, before telling me his concerns: “I’m a dad,” he began, “and the things that keep me up at night at are the cost of rent and childcare.” Huh. That’s rather pragmatic for a socialist, I thought, embarrassed by my own grandstanding. He went on to tell me about candidate Mamdani, the energetic, 33-year-old assembly member from Queens, who was running an outright affordability campaign, promising to make life in New York easier by taking the financial burden off of residents struggling to meet ends meet, much like my wife and me. I listened to his case, confirmed that I was registered to vote, that I knew where my polling place was, and was left with some literature before he departed to continue his journey.

As the door shut behind him I felt a familiar sensation creeping in that I wasn’t able to identify, like a song that comes on the radio that you haven’t heard since you were a kid but cannot put a name to. For a moment I allowed myself to daydream that should this Mamdani character be able to win and accomplish some of this wish list of ideas, how my dramatically that would improve life for my wife and I, who have been actively contemplating if we can still afford the city, let alone have children.

I began to recognize the feeling as something from my 20s—hopeful. The feeling had just shown up, uninvited, even more intrusive than the man at my door, but extinguished almost as soon as it had arrived by a reflexive cynicism. Picking up my lukewarm coffee, for the first time in a long time, I considered the option of being hopeful.

I hadn’t always been this much of a grouch. Like Mamdani himself, I’m a 33-year-old millennial, a mix of people who I feel have had a particularly tough political journey in their third of a century on the planet. While I know that every generation has its own tragic historical landmarks to define them, the chasm between where our country was when we became of age to participate in politics, and America of 2026, feels like an indescribable decent into chaos.

As with most people my age, one of the earliest national events burned into my memory was September 11th. For many of us, it was a coming online point, a complete loss of innocence, the first steps towards recognizing the world as a bigger, scarier and far more complicated place than our backyards. Tragedy birthed further tragedy and we saw our country dive headfirst into a war that we did not understand led by people, who even as a 10-year-old overhearing the nightly news was able to recognize as morally dubious characters.

By the time I neared voting age, the country had been at war for more than half of my life and was in the depths of The Great Recession. Up until that point, it seemed in fashion among most people I knew to assume that the government was run by war criminals, the president to be a buffoon, my best friend’s father famously enjoying his coffee from a mug with a devil-horned George W. Bush on it. The biggest album of my graduating class was Green Day’s “American Idiot.”

Something else had happened, however, by the time I turned 18. Barack Obama was elected president, a historical event that had such an impact on this young white kid from New Hampshire that I cannot fathom the effect it had on more disadvantaged people around the country, let alone the world. The significance was not lost on me, and for everything terrible I had known to be true about America in the present and it’s not-too-distant past, the 2008 election signified to me that change is possible, that things can actually get better. While a child may not understand the minutia of foreign affairs or puzzle of the American economy, I cannot stress enough the impact the character of a leader can have on a child.

Photo credit: Courtesy Barack Obama Presidential Library.

This optimistic outlook for the country mirrored a pivotal time in my own life as a I prepared for college and looked to my own future. Through graduation, college and the tumultuous post-grad years, there would be ups and in downs, but one constant in my life was my admiration for the president, the pillars of the Democratic Party aligning with my own values. The youngest of four children in a barely middle-class home, I was essentially raised by a single mother because of my father’s chronic, debilitating illness.

Through this upbringing, I saw firsthand the importance of a strong social safety net, the value of the arts in public education, and the nightmare that is our healthcare system. In short, life was hard for my family, but we had leaders to look to and keep us inspired. Believing in my elected leaders and supporting their fight for a better future was an inherent part of my character, as essential to my identity as the books I read or the music I loved. This sentiment seems laughable now, as this romanticized idealism of politics in 2026 sounds as dated and quaint as stump speech given out of the caboose of a steam locomotive.

As the Obama years wound down, I found both myself and the country preparing for an uncertain, new future. I had made up my mind to move to New York City to pursue a career in the film industry, and my final few months in New Hampshire were spent basking in the political frenzy that is this key state during an election year.

Saddened by the end of a presidency that had defined my formative years, I saw an exciting, more progressive future in the senator from Vermont, Bernie Sanders. Much to my dismay, as well as virtually every other Democrat I knew, he was not our candidate. Dismissed by many establishment Democrats as “extreme” or “unable to win an election,” this seemingly blatant rejection of the will of the party’s base was the first crack in the foundation of my faith in the Democrats.

Photo credit: Facebook

Nonetheless, my friends and I threw our support behind the Clinton-Kaine ticket enthusiastically, even having an opportunity to see the former first lady speak, introduced by then first lady Michelle Obama. Unstirred by the trollist rhetoric coming from the other candidate on the right, a friend and I had dinner on election night and even cheered to the presumptive first woman president.

It was cold and grey when I moved to Brooklyn in January the following year. I found myself, as well as the country, in a new, unknown place. While exploring a new city was a welcome distraction, I couldn’t escape the existential dread of the direction our country was headed, like waiting for a diagnosis after the discovery of a potentially malignant lump.

We looked to leaders but they were still licking their wounds. It felt quite powerless at times. The party was having an identity crisis and seemed to be trying to try to cleanse itself in any way it can. Progressive movements spiked up like #MeToo, leading to long overdue justice for so many women, but adding to further disillusionment of men in power. It was a confusing time and I did my best to listen and learn. I went to protests, met plenty of liberals in my community, but more often than not it appeared to me we were finding more reason to divide amongst ourselves at a time when we should be building a strong coalition more than ever.

Photo credit: Pamme Boutselis

Things were reaching a boiling point when the pandemic hit, and a red-hot populace stayed home and had nothing but time on its hands—hands that were constantly holding their phones. Misinformation, toxic algorithms, and age-old police violence, now impossible to ignore, filled everybody’s screens. The American culture had become a dumpster fire and the first year of what should have been an exciting new decade did nothing but pour gasoline onto it. The beaten down idealist in me, still clinging to hope, believed that a new leader could emerge from this 24-hour a day shit show. We got Joe Biden.

The next four years were a bit of a respite, but it felt like a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound, a minute to catch our breath in the corner of the ring before hearing the bell and going another eight to ten rounds. There were whispers of something called Project 2025—and in seeing the growing lack of faith in Biden, it became increasingly apparent to me that in 2024 there would need to be new energetic leadership to seize this moment and protect the country from the monster waiting in the wings. By July of 2024, as I watched the addled, feeble president fumble his way through the most important debate of his life, I felt a long way from the young man who had watched Barack Obama’s inauguration speech 15 years ago.

It was a fittingly frigid day when the orange man was sworn in for his second term. Record-low temperatures moved the ceremonies indoors, although the chill was felt far beyond the borders of the capital. As I watched him take his oath, surrounded by many of the people responsible for eroding the decency of our culture, I felt any hope left in me expire. I wasn’t sad. I was angry, bewildered, and felt that my own party had failed me, the country, and future generations.

All these things were on my mind as I drank my cold coffee and looked at the big, yellow letters on the pamphlet in my hands. ZOHRAN. I cast it to the purgatory of unread mail in my office and assumed I’d forget about the wonder kid from Queens. History proved to make this impossible over the next several weeks. I could not escape the name Zohran Mamdani. Posters in bodega windows, stickers on the Q train, wheelbarrows of mail, and above all, a relentless social media presence speaking directly to voters.

Photo credit: Kara McCurdy

My knee-jerk reaction was to dismiss the digital blitzkrieg as a shameless attempt to seem relevant to younger voters, until remembering Mamdani was my age and, in fact, a young voter himself. This was not a typical candidate awkwardly appearing on podcasts and desperately speaking to influencers in a calculated ploy to assimilate to the next generation’s language. Mamdani spoke that language.

Additionally, he was an immigrant from a working-class neighborhood in Queens, understood the hustle culture of New York City, and even more importantly, had a sense of humor. Most impressive was the clear communication and frank goals of his campaign that you could rattle off the top of your head: freeze rent, universal childcare, free buses. No grandiose statements about equity or demonizing folks who had a different perspective. Direct messaging, instead, to voters about how he will improve our lives.

Inevitably, Mamdani’s candidacy became the main talking point over drinks or dinner with friends, whether it be their fiery support or outright dismissal based on the scope off his ambitions. Always more comfortable seated at the skeptic table, I largely agreed with the latter and found the Mamdani agenda a bit fantastical. The rest of the democratic establishment seemed to agree, everyone from the governor to mainstream podcasters labeling him as “radical.” Despite following this logic, emotionally it didn’t sit well with me, perhaps bringing back memories of that old senator from Vermont and his ill-fated nomination back in 2016.

As time went on, my flirtation with the omnipresent Mamdani developed into full-fledged support when it became clear the alternative was none other than disgraced former Governor Andrew Cuomo. Having resigned over sexual misconduct, Cuomo’s brand of politics reeked of a bygone era, like the stench of cigar smoke in the woodwork of an Albany steakhouse. Positioning himself as a political heavyweight who had the strength to go toe-to-toe with the President, he seemed to think the title of Mayor was nothing more than a consolation prize that he was entitled to.

Contrasted with Mamdani’s direct to the people approach, Cuomo barely did interviews or made his case for himself. He didn’t seem to be seeking people’s vote but rather demanding it. His statements regarding his past lewd behavior can be summed up as “boys will be boys,” a total parade of arrogance not too dissimilar to the president he claimed that only he could stand up to. For anyone on the fence about Mamdani, the choice seemed crystal clear in my mind, as this was a decision between returning to the past or stepping into the future.

Photo credit: Kara McCurdy

Faced with the choice between fresh idealism and business as usual, I was frustrated to find many of the people in my life, who I was ideologically aligned with, still weren’t convinced. “He just won’t be able to get anything done,” they’d proclaim with tired eyes and defeated certainty. No rational person could argue against the mountain of improbability facing the young candidate, but is dreaming big not the purpose of seeking higher office in this country?

Obama spoke of the audacity of hope. For eight years in this country, we said yes we can, even when we were defeated and the odds stacked against us. Did John F. Kennedy tell us we would go to the moon because it would easy? Hell, the current president has spent the last decade making promises that he cannot deliver. That is not to equate his incessant lies to Mamdani’s lofty agenda—no, but it is to say that the goals of a candidate don’t inform you of what they for certain will accomplish, but to inform you of who for certain they will be fighting for.

The word that came up over and over in this dialogue was “radical.” Every time I would hear this word, I felt an anger growing inside of me. When I looked around, there were plenty things that seemed radical to me beyond Zohran Mamdani. What seems “radical” to me was accepting the status quo, that so many New Yorkers worked more than 50 hours a week and struggle to pay their rent.

What was “radical” was expecting people who had been living under an authoritarian to elect a sexual predator as the mayor of their city. It is “radical” to accept that we cannot choose a leader who will fight for us because we need to accept that large-scale change in this country is no longer possible. Surrounded by such rank pessimism, I found myself for the first time in a decade feeling like an idealist. And it felt good. Even if Zohran can only accomplish a fraction of what he has promised, he will have mobilized a new generation.

Photo credit: Kara McCurdy

It was a bright, brisk day on January 1, 2026. As the world celebrated a New Year and nursed their hangovers, my city celebrated a new chapter. The sun beamed hard as the young mayor was sworn in by none other than the senator from Vermont himself. It was the beginning of what would be a historic, brutal winter, but I felt some of that cynicism in me melt away.

“Beginning today, we will govern expansively and audaciously. We may not always succeed. But we will never be accused of lacking the courage to try.” In those remarks, Zohran Mamdani articulated a core tenet of American idealism. Falling short in the pursuit of a better world is not a failure, but a noble effort, one that is essential to the American story.

A lot has been said about the state of our democracy because of the current administration. While it is true that the president is morally bankrupt, culturally poisonous, and globally harmful, he was brought to power by the will of the American people.

Rather than let that understandably horrify me and shatter my hope for a better world, I choose to focus on the fact the American people can still choose their leaders, no matter how “radical” they may be perceived. We can educate, inspire, and mobilize an electorate that can make a tidal, historical change in this country.

Andrew Boutselis is a writer and filmmaker, currently working in location management in the film and television industry. He studied film production at Fitchburg State University and earned a bachelor’s in communication at Southern New Hampshire University. After two-plus decades of New Hampshire life, he now resides in Brooklyn, New York. Connect with him on LinkedIn.

I choose to focus on the fact the American people can still choose their leaders, no matter how “radical” they may be perceived. We can educate, inspire, and mobilize an electorate that can make a tidal, historical change in this country." - Andrew Boutselis

]]><![CDATA[Remembrances of Reverend Jesse Jackson]]>Sun, 15 Mar 2026 21:06:12 GMThttps://www.globalcitizenscircle.org/blog/remembrances-of-reverend-jesse-jacksonBy Jerry Dunfey and Nadine Hack

Jerry Dunfey is the 1974 founding president of Global Citizens Circle. Nadine Hack has been actively involved with GCC for 42 of its 52-year history. They have been citizen activists for decades. We asked them to share their reflections about their friend Reverend Jesse Jackson, an international icon, who died at 84 on February 17, 2026.

Reverend Jesse Jackson was a larger-than-life force of nature who deeply inspired people from all sorts of backgrounds, especially but not only African Americans. His ability to build coalitions resonates deeply with Global Citizens Circle mission. We were among those who were privileged to know and work with him for many decades.

The first time Rev Jesse climbed aboard Jerry’s motor home that he drove around the country to support important political campaigns was in Atlanta when Ambassador Andrew Young was running for the US Congress. Andy is the honorary co-chair with President Mary Robinson of Global Citizens Circle international advisors. He was the first African American elected to Congress from Georgia since Reconstruction.

Local volunteers and others who’d come to Georgia and joined the bandwagon on Jerry’s RV for Andy’s historic races between 1972 and 1976, along with Rev. Jackson, included US Congress woman Maxine Waters then in the California State Assembly, and Harris County Commissioner Rodney Ellis, a Global Citizens Circle board member for many years, then a legislative assistant to US Congressman Mickey Leland.

In 1984, Jerry’s son Peter Dunfey, brought Rev Jesse to the campus of the University of New Hampshire to register student voters. In 1988, aboard the RV plastered with Keep Hope Alive posters, we traversed through Manhattan, Brooklyn and the Bronx, carrying, as always, campaigners famous and unknown. We have fond memories of dancing in the streets as Jesse got the crowds ‘fired up and ready to go’ long before that chant was used by presidential candidate Barack Obama.

The moment the camera focused on Rev. Jesse weeping as 2008 Democratic presidential nominee Obama stepped on the stage in Chicago, was as profound as the Red Sea splitting open. We too wept knowing the pivotal role Rev. Jesse had played in getting our nation to that bittersweet yet joyous hour.

Our interactions with Rev. Jesse were not just political. We hosted him and his family at the Parker House Hotel in Boston in the 1980s when his youngest daughter attended boarding school in the region. She most recently visited us in Lutry, Switzerland in 2019 and we remain connected with the other members of his family.

From 1974 until the present, Global Citizens Circle has highlighted the voices of social justice activists throughout the world. Coretta Scott King and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’.s granddaughter Yolanda Renee King co-led a 2019 Circle "In the Footsteps of Giants: Grounding and Growing the Dream."

Rev. Jesse was with Dr. King when he was assassinated, as was our Global Citizens Circle co-chair, Ambassador Andrew Young. From 1960 as a student in Greensboro, North Carolina, when Rev. Jesse became active in the civil rights movement, joining the local Congress of Racial Equality chapter participating in sit-ins, through 1966 when he began to lead Operation Breadbasket, a Southern Christian Leadership Conference program in Chicago, until his death, Rev. Jesse “fought the good fight, finished the race, kept the faith.”

May his example continue to inspire all of us to create a more just world.

May Reverend Jesse Jackson's example continue to inspire all of us to create a more just world." - Jerry Dunfey and Nadine Hack

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