Chicago Salt Trucks

Social media lit up several weeks ago in response to the now-infamous “Chicapolypse” post on the official White House platform. Among the many photographs of Chicago that emerged were long lines of salt trucks parked front-to-back on city streets.

At first, the meme world assumed the trucks were deployed to protect the city from what some saw as an imminent federal invasion, but the trucks weren’t lined up to protect the city. They were there to protect nonviolent protesters, positioned between the road and the sidewalk to keep vehicles from driving into crowds. 

A lot comes to mind from all that: a reminder that memes are not facts, the sad reality that counter-protests come in the form of vehicle attacks on pedestrians. And also, wishing I had a salt truck.

Not an actual salt truck, of course – I’ll leave the operation of those complex machines to professionals. But something that solid, that certain to stop harm. 

It’s easy to feel helpless – to want something like those salt trucks – in the face of any system that seems bent on harm, dehumanization, degradation, and cynical hypocrisies. I’m not only referring here to the state of the nation and world, though – to be sure, dehumanization, degradation, and cynical hypocrisy are certainly on full display. And all that happens also in workplaces, in schools, in faith communities, on school and town councils.

Where are the salt trucks then?

Me – I’m the truck lined up on the sidewalk, just not – at least hardly ever – on my own. 

Anthropologist Margaret Mead is credited with originating the much-quoted phrase, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” There’s no evidence Mead said or wrote that, and serious questions exist about the credibility of some of her work.

But I didn’t know all that for a long time, and I kept a poster of that quote on my wall for years. Until one day I looked at the line, “indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has” and thought, well, that’s just not true.

Certainly, small and committed groups of people are necessary drivers of change. So are organizers and leaders who risk losing position or power by standing against dehumanization of all stripes. But not everyone can join a group, organize, or lead. And still, change happens – how?

I can change my own behavior.

I get called on this a lot when I say it. People think I’m advocating for ignoring larger social problems, focusing only on oneself. One woman said in a workshop I recently led, “This all seems convenient and self-serving to me. It lets people off the hook.”

It doesn’t, though. Changing my behavior is a commitment, and it’s deeply strategic. As systems scholars Katherine Milligan, Juanita Zerda, and John Kania write, “Everything we know about systems tells us relationships are the core.” 

Relationships are the core, but I can’t force others to change, not sustainably at least, and not without causing more harm. But relationships are systems, and systems always change when their parts change.

Milligan, Zerda, and Kania go on to write that to drive change for larger systems, it is “critical to support relationship development in ways that build true empathy and compassion so that authentic connections happen, particularly between diverse participants. These deeper connections can form new avenues for innovation to address the social problem at hand.”

Collective action is, of course, an essential driver of change in systems both small and large. That’s the basis of unions. It’s the foundation of organizing at all levels. But it’s not the only tool.

I’ve written about this before, but it bears repeating. Collective action is essential – showing up at non-violent protests and rallies is critical, especially to political resistance. Meanwhile, though, I’m in my day-to-day. I want to be doing something.

I don’t care as much as I used to about what others think and believe; I want the experience of systems to change. I want anyone to be able to fully participate in schools and organizations, and to benefit from their purpose. I want that experience to ripple out and change the systems around it.

That’s one of the ways social systems change happens, and I am impatient for that change. If I keep waiting for people to change their minds, change won’t happen fast enough. But one relationship at a time, I can help bring it about. I can bring my steadiness, earnest curiosity, compassion, restorative curiosity, and grace to every interaction.

Sometimes, that’s as close as I get to a big salt truck. Often, it’s enough.

Lucinda Garthwaite, ILI Founder and Executive Director