Leadership Against the Tide: How Community-Rooted Development Can Defend Democracy

The rising tide of fascism in the United States isn’t just a theoretical threat. It’s visible in everyday headlines: school boards banning books that center Black, queer, or immigrant voices; states dismantling DEI programs; individuals being taken from their home with no due process, and a growing normalization of white Christian nationalism in political discourse. We are living through a time when the erosion of democracy is not a distant fear—it’s an immediate, local, and systemic reality.

As someone who has spent my career supporting community-rooted youth leadership development, particularly among communities historically excluded from decision-making power, I believe this moment calls for more than alarm. It calls for action—and not just at the ballot box. We need to fundamentally rethink how we develop leaders, build communities, and plan for the future.

If our leadership models remain passive, professionalized, and apolitical, we risk preparing the next generation to lead in ways that accommodate injustice rather than challenge it.

The Threat Is Local, Not Just National

Fascism doesn’t arrive with grand speeches or uniforms; it creeps in through local policies, institutional decisions, and a gradual desensitization to hate. In 2023 alone, PEN America reported over 3,300 book bans in public schools—an all-time high—and many of them targeted stories by and about people of color, LGBTQ+ youth, and immigrants. Simultaneously, we’ve watched a coordinated campaign to roll back civil rights gains through “parental rights” rhetoric that silences inclusive education and undermines public trust in democracy.

These aren't isolated incidents. They're part of a larger pattern: a coordinated movement to consolidate power by attacking public institutions, reshaping curricula, and restricting who counts as a legitimate voice in civic life.

And the most dangerous part? Much of it is happening at the local level—on school boards, in state legislatures, at city planning meetings. That means the work of resisting fascism also has to be local. And deeply relational.

What’s Happening at Harvard—and What It Means for All of Us

In early 2024, the U.S. House Committee on Education and the Workforce launched aggressive inquiries into Harvard University and other elite institutions, demanding they investigate and discipline students and faculty over speech related to the Israel-Palestine conflict. Some students were even named in federal hearings and media campaigns, sparking harassment, doxxing, and threats to their safety. Today, the government is withdrawing its funding because this historic institution refused to allow the current administration to determine what is taught (and how it's taught). This was never about resolving hate or promoting justice—it was about intimidating dissent and controlling academic freedom.

The message is clear: young people and scholars who challenge dominant narratives—especially about race, global justice, or U.S. foreign policy—should expect surveillance, silencing, and retaliation.

As someone who teaches in higher education, I see the consequences of this firsthand. Students in my classroom now pause before sharing their views. They ask, quietly, “Will I be safe if I say this out loud?” They worry about losing scholarships, being placed on government watchlists, or becoming the target of smear campaigns. Some have simply stopped speaking altogether.

This is not democratic education. This is the chilling effect of authoritarianism creeping into spaces that should be incubators for free thought, critical dialogue, and courageous leadership.

We have to be honest about this: when our universities become tools of political policing rather than platforms for debate, we’re no longer in a democratic society—we’re in the early stages of something much darker.

Why Leadership Programs Can’t Be Neutral Anymore

I’ve spent years studying and supporting youth leadership development across the U.S.—from Philadelphia-based nonprofits to national teen initiatives. What I’ve seen over and over again is this: too many leadership programs are designed to teach young people how to “fit in” rather than how to transform systems.

Leadership is often framed as something apolitical: a set of soft skills, personality traits, or business-minded approaches to collaboration. But this kind of framing ignores power. It ignores history. And it absolutely ignores what our youth already know: that systems aren’t broken—they’re working exactly as they were designed to. And that those systems actively harm their communities.

A leadership program that teaches young people how to speak confidently but doesn’t help them analyze how racism, classism, ableism, and other forms of systemic oppression operate? That’s not leadership. That’s assimilation.

True leadership development must be rooted in critical consciousness, real-world application, and community accountability.

The Ecosystem Approach: Leadership That Starts With Community

In my book Ecosystems of Youth Leadership Development: Pathways to New Programs, I introduce an ecosystem model for building youth leadership programs that are culturally grounded, justice-oriented, and community-driven. This approach centers five interconnected elements:

1. Values and Goals – Are we developing leaders for liberation or for assimilation?

2. Transparency and Relationships – Are youth and community members part of decision-making processes?

3. Community Stakeholders – Are local voices involved in shaping the program?

4. Support and Resources – Are we building sustainable infrastructure, not just one-time events?

5. Staff – Are adult allies equipped to work alongside youth, not over them?

Programs like Tree House Books in Philadelphia and Honeycomb’s Jewish youth philanthropy initiatives are proof that youth can lead transformative work when the right ecosystem is in place.

These organizations don’t just prepare youth to lead in the future—they support them in leading now.

And right now, we need leadership that is prepared to respond to fascism with clarity, courage, and connection.

Strategic Planning as Resistance

Strategic planning may not sound radical—but it can be. When done well, it’s a tool to align your organization's mission with the current reality and a future vision for justice. Unfortunately, many strategic plans default to vague goals, corporate buzzwords, and risk-averse timelines that do little to address the urgency of our time.

Here are a few questions every organization should be asking as they plan their next 1–5 years:

• Whose safety are we centering in our programs and policies?

• How are we preparing our communities to respond to shifts in legislation or political violence?

• Are we building partnerships with grassroots organizations that reflect our stated values?

• What structural changes are needed in our leadership pipeline to reflect the people most impacted by injustice?

In my work supporting strategic planning for Jewish and secular nonprofits alike, I’ve seen how centering equity and justice in planning processes can shift not only goals, but entire cultures. That is what we need right now.

What You Can Do—Right Now

Whether you’re an educator, nonprofit leader, parent, or concerned community member, you don’t have to wait for a political campaign to fight back. Here are some immediate steps you can take:

1. Audit your leadership development programs.

   Ask: Are we teaching young people how to comply, or how to critique and create?

2. Start from the grassroots.

   Support local youth programs that are embedded in the community, especially those led by BIPOC, queer, disabled, or immigrant youth.

3. Defend academic freedom.

   Push your institution, school board, or local leaders to stand firm against political pressure to silence dissent. Create learning spaces where it is safe to think critically.

4. Map the power relationships in your community.

   Identify decision-makers, funders, disruptors, and gatekeepers—and organize around them strategically.

5. Talk to young people—and listen.

   Ask them what they’re seeing, what they need, and what they’re already doing. Young people are not waiting for permission to lead; they’re waiting for us to get out of the way or show up alongside them.

Conclusion: The Slow, Courageous Work of Democracy

There is no single protest, election, or lesson plan that will defeat fascism. But there is a network of brave people doing the slow, intentional work of building justice where they are—with students, with communities, with integrity.

The future of democracy won’t be saved by CEOs, senators, or presidents alone. It will be saved in classrooms, in youth programs, in community centers, and in conversations where people learn to ask better questions and demand better systems.

Let’s not train young people to lead the systems that are harming us. Let’s build ecosystems where they can lead us toward something better.