Inspiring: Healing Our Relationships News Stories
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The city of Andernach, Germany, planted 101 varieties of tomatoes in the town center and told everyone to pluck and take whatever they wanted. It was such a hit, the following year the city did the same with beans. The next year, it was onions. After that, the city planted fruit trees, lettuce, zucchini, berries and herbs. All were free to anyone who lived or happened to be in the town of 30,000 people. The town, which sits in the Rhine River Valley, has an unofficial motto: “Picking is encouraged — help yourself.” It’s one of a growing number of places across the globe known as edible cities. In the United States, there are public lands from Seattle to North Carolina where people are welcome to pick and take from fruiting trees and bushes. Since 2018, Andernach has been part of the Edible Cities Network, a group of about 150 cities around the world with fruit trees and vegetable gardens in public places for anyone to access free of charge. Several cities also receive funding for what Edible Cities calls “living labs” — green spaces where residents can hold community events and develop their own plans to help their urban gardens to thrive and produce bountiful harvests. Edible Cities is now supporting a community garden in Cuba, while cities in China, Tunisia, Togo and Uruguay are also developing plans for urban food forests. Edible Cities is trying to encourage people to get involved in their urban parks rather than only think of them as passive places.
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Beneath Andernach's medieval city walls, birds flit among apple, pear and peach trees. Strawberry plants and heads of lettuce sprout from the soil alongside patches of herbs and wildflowers. It's also home to the highest cold-water geyser in the world, a big tourist draw. But today, visitors have another reason to come to Andernach — its city gardens. "If you feel like picking something for dinner, feel free," said Anneli Karlsson, the project coordinator of the Edible Cities Network in Andernach. "That's our motto: Feel free to pick." Andernach, with a population of around 30,000 people, is known as an "edible city." Its public green spaces are used to grow food that anyone can harvest free of charge. The city's administration launched the project in 2010. The idea was to get locals more engaged in their community and raise awareness about how food is grown. No pesticides are used, so the produce is all organic. But Andernach's gardens aren't just about food. Karlsson said the project is unique because it hires unemployed people to maintain the plant beds, alongside a team of gardeners. "It has changed my life," said Jörn Schamari, a former truck driver. He suffered burnout and was out of work when he came across the edible city initiative several years ago. "This project helped me bounce back. And from next year, I've been promised a permanent position as a gardener here. The project has also changed my relationship to plants."
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and reimagining the economy.
“Kids don’t go on social media because they love social media per se,” the children’s author and National Year of Reading 2026 ambassador, Rob Biddulph says. “They go there looking for connection and for belonging – and for entertainment and inspiration.” The challenge, he says, is not to replace social media itself, it is to replace the things it provides. At the Scouts, Simon Carter says one of their biggest attractions is that they bring young people into contact with others outside their friendship circles. Film clubs, youth theatres and music projects offer similar opportunities: BFI film clubs bring young people together to make films in teams. Youth Music-supported projects include everything from DJing, podcasting and gaming to organising gigs. Libraries and bookshops can play a similar role: many now host gaming sessions, manga clubs, creative workshops, reading groups and book clubs. Youth organisations are not the only route to connection. Wilson recommends environmental activism for older children. John Glancy, of the National Trust, believes parents should start by asking their children why their favourite social media platform and video game appeals to them. “The answer might reveal they’re searching for a sense of identity, stimulation or a sense of achievement,” he says. “Once you know which it is, it becomes easier to find alternatives.” Joe Doherty, of Outward Bound ... recommends activities that offer rewards – be it novelty, progression or excitement.
Note: A 2025 study found that cutting social media use for just one week significantly reduced symptoms of depression, anxiety, and insomnia in young adults. Explore more positive stories like this on reimagining education and healing social division.
Salah Hussein was 11 years old when he was woken up in the middle of the night by Israeli soldiers. It left him traumatized and terrified for years. It was "triggering" to see any Israeli in uniform, he says. "For me, all of them were a threat." But decades later, Hussein, now a 33-year-old entrepreneur, has willingly and purposefully tied his fortune to his co-founder, who is an Israeli Jew. Hussein is one of about 35 entrepreneurs taking part in a start-up accelerator program called 50:50 Startups, where mixed teams of Palestinians, Israeli Arabs and Israeli Jews spend six months in a kind of business bootcamp. Program leaders take pains to say that 50:50 is not a political organization. That's what allows it to create an environment where each side can see the other as people, not enemies. In one stark example, a Palestinian man who grew up in a refugee camp near Hebron was sharing how he felt humiliated and harangued by IDF soldiers at checkpoints. Then he found out one of the Israelis he had come to know in the program was actually one of the soldiers stationed near his home. It was striking, he says, to hear that former Israeli soldier share how terrified he and others were of Palestinians. "They feel [the Palestinians] will attack them, or maybe shoot them, so they always stand by, [with] nerves tense," the Palestinian man said. "At the end of the day [the soldier is] a human being. He's someone like me who just wants to get back home safe and have dinner with [his] family."
Note: War destroys, yet these powerful real-life stories show that we can heal, reimagine better alternatives, and plant the seeds of a global shift in consciousness to transform our world. Explore more positive stories like this on healing the war machine.
The Mt. Airy Babysitting Co-op is a beloved local institution that has been running since 1974. The premise is simple: Families in the co-op provide each other with free childcare. A point system — once tracked in a pen-and-paper ledger, now in Google Sheets — ensures that everyone contributes their fair share. Every half an hour is worth one point, with extra points for things like looking after multiple children or sitting after midnight, explains [Stef] Arck-Baynes, who now serves as the co-op’s membership chair. “If you do a sleepover, points are raining down on you!” With rising living costs and a growing childcare crisis, communal arrangements like this can be a lifeline for parents living far from extended family or still looking to build their “village.” It goes beyond saving money, says Arck-Baynes. Knowing that the evening’s babysitter is a fellow parent can make for a more trusting relationship. There are currently 17 families in the co-op. The logistics can seem overwhelming at first — there’s a vetting and voting process for new families, 16 pages of bylaws and a rotating secretarial role for coordinating sits and recording points. But it becomes second nature once you get a handle on it, says Arck-Baynes. “We’re constantly talking about how to make the process easier.” Mama geht tanzen (Mom’s going dancing) events have spread across cities in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, France and the Netherlands. Their “After-Care Parties” start at 8 p.m. and wrap up by 11, so moms can go clubbing without sacrificing their sleep (or their nerves) the next day. DJ Nikki Beatnik launched Mums that Rave in the U.K. after the birth of her child in 2019.
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Members of Gen Z and Millennials are attending phone-free experiences 567% more often across the globe, signaling a major shift in how people want to gather. Eventbrite data shows that the generations having grown up with limited to no social media and smartphone use, and which then lead the charge to its ubiquitous adoption, is now leading the world back—away from constant connectivity. These events now span the full calendar year, signaling a shift from temporary reset to sustained behavior. The momentum is most pronounced in the US and UK, though each market reflects a distinct pattern of growth. The United Kingdom has emerged as the global leader for phone-free socializing, with events growing by 1,200% and attendance increasing by 1,441%. Of course the previous amount will have been very small, and ... the overall number of phone-free events will still be low in comparison to others. There is a strong focus in the UK on countering loneliness and social isolation. In the United States, the offline or analog movement is defined by expansive participation. While event volume grew by 388%, attendance jumped by 913%. The growth is already accelerating. In just the first three months of 2026, phone-free experiences have reached over a third of last year’s global event volume, signaling that this is no longer a fringe behavior, but a mainstream way of gathering.
Note: Learn more about the young adults joining "offline" social clubs across Europe. Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and technology for good.
Almost two decades after the first iPhone was released, a trend for lower tech devices appears to be taking shape, with a growing minority swapping their smartphones for “dumb phones”. With new models such as the Boring Phone, the trend is partly being fuelled by young people’s suspicion of the data- and attention-harvesting tech they have grown up with, as well as a bid to live more offline. And while smartphones are the obvious target for this trend, the “newtro” (a portmanteau of “new” and “retro”) movement is heralding a revival of analogue media, including cassettes and fanzines, against the backdrop of the enduring, and much-heralded, vinyl boom. While Jess Perriam, 39, had become exhausted by her Instagram feed, she knew she wanted to keep a window into the lives of others. So she turned to Postcrossing, a site that connects people who want to send and receive postcards from strangers around the world. “I still wanted to have that connection with people and learn more about different cultures, but not necessarily while being aggressively marketed at,” she said, adding that she receives “stacks of reading recommendations” through the post. The community has more than 800,000 members across 207 countries, with 77 million postcards received since it launched in 2005. As well as writing to people she has never met, she also corresponds with an old friend in the US. “It forces me to sit down and think, what do I want to communicate to my friend?”
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A small Wisconsin city has just notched a big win in its fight against a proposed data center, thanks to grassroots community organizing and support from a growing statewide coalition. And to help guide other communities facing similar challenges, organizers in Menomonie have helped develop a toolkit for taking on hyperscale data centers. As of last October, there were about 3,000 new data centers being built or planned nationwide. Soon, a wave of data center projects was washing over Wisconsin towns. Data centers bring few permanent jobs and can drain municipal water resources, drive up electric bills, rob cities of tax revenues, and cause damaging noise, light and air pollution. Residents in Port Washington have complained about the disruption caused by around-the-clock construction at the new data center. Families near the construction in Beaver Dam have reported that their wells have run dry. Menomonie residents took to social media and the streets to raise the alarm about the data center proposal and organize community members. They met to share information, staged demonstrations and began attending city council meetings in growing numbers. By September 2025, there were over 10,000 Menomonie residents and allies in a Stop the Menomonie Data Center Facebook group — more than half the town’s population. Pressure from local campaigners was so great that Mayor Randy Knaack announced at a September 22 city council meeting that he had notified Balloonist that the city would not be moving forward with a development agreement. More good news came in January when the Menomonie City Council voted unanimously to place additional regulations on data center projects. One of the statewide coalition’s greatest achievements is the Big Tech Unchecked Toolkit. Published in December 2025 by Healthy Climate Wisconsin and other coalition partners, the toolkit includes information on what data centers are, their impacts on communities and success stories from struggles across Wisconsin, including Menomonie’s.
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My journey into healing began 10 years later when an envelope containing a greeting card slid beneath my cell door at Florida State Prison. Inside was a card embossed with a dove carrying an olive branch—an image that would come to symbolize restorative justice in my life. “I’ve been thinking about you over the years,” it read. I stared at her handwriting, confused. When I wrote back, she revealed, “You killed my daughter and grandson.” That sat me down. The impact of what I’d done suddenly became tangible. I wept—for Pat, for Chris, for Agnes. We began exploring the shades and textures of the tragedy that connected us. Our relationship became a living example of restorative justice—pouring our spirits out like wine into each other’s hearts. On the morning of our meeting, I walked alone across the compound toward the visiting park. My heart raced as I prepared to meet the woman whose life I had shattered. Inside the visitation booth, I waited, unsure. When Agnes entered—small, strong, radiant—her presence filled the room. We had already done the hard work through years of letters and calls. This meeting was about connection, remembrance, and honoring the restorative justice we’d built. Agnes pressed her palm to mine through the glass. Her eyes met mine. I broke down. “I’m sorry,” I cried again and again. “I forgive you,” she said softly. “And I love you.” That moment—her smile through tears—was the purest expression of restorative justice I have ever witnessed.
Note: Explore more positive stories like this in our comprehensive human interest stories and repairing criminal justice.
In the misty hills of southern Haiti, the town of Beaumont sits on a fault line of tension. Yet in this uncertain landscape, a quiet movement has been unfolding, one led not by international nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) or government officials, but by local mediators who believe that peace must begin with conversation. Their work, modest in scale but profound in effect, is helping rebuild what years of unrest have eroded: people’s belief in one another. At the heart of this effort is Médiation Lakay (“community-based mediation”), a grassroots initiative reflecting the work of local community leaders in Haiti who mediate disputes over land and resources. Elders, local officials, and church figures convene to discuss disputes before they escalate. Rather than waiting for formal judicial intervention, these mediators facilitate dialogue between families, helping them reach agreements and restore communication. “It’s not about who wins,” says Wilfrid, a local Haitian pastor. “It’s about whether both sides can share a plate of rice after.” The process blends traditional dispute resolution with restorative justice principles, an exchange of listening, acknowledgment, and reparative action. Disputes that might have lasted years are often resolved in weeks. The team keeps no written records, to preserve confidentiality and community trust. By focusing on rebuilding relationships rather than assigning blame, Médiation Lakay is gradually reweaving the social fabric that conflict had torn apart. “People came to understand that fear had made them cruel,” [school teacher] Josette says. Beyond conflict resolution, the group’s meetings have become spaces for collective healing, where villagers discuss shared trauma from past hurricanes or lost livelihoods. By focusing on rebuilding relationships rather than assigning blame, Médiation Lakay is gradually reweaving the social fabric that conflict had torn apart.
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Known as the Night of Controversies, the Paris-based event featured about a dozen different sessions including debates ... as well as workshops on the art of the argument and non-violent communication. Run by the Institute of Desirable Futures, an organization working on corporate innovation and leadership, the project aims to “enrich us from our disagreements” and to “joyfully cast doubt on our certainties” in an era of growing polarization. The Night of Controversies was the institute’s first all-out, multi-session event dedicated to disagreement, with more than 600 Parisians attending. The initiative is part of a wider movement that sees finding common ground and learning to “disagree well” as a potent remedy to many of today’s societal and political woes. A study by researchers at the University of Cambridge in February 2026 found that divisions on social and political issues in the U.S. have increased by 64 percent since 1988, with most polarization after 2008. Julia Minson, a Harvard Kennedy School professor and behavioral scientist [said:] “When it comes to the U.S., people on the other side of the political spectrum are seen as unmoral, untrustworthy, not worthy of debate.” The French institute has run “controversy” events for over a decade, predominantly as part of its work with small and large companies and even politicians. More than 2,000 people have participated in the institute’s trainings on disagreement to date, spanning topics such as food production, climate change, AI, biomimetics and governance. The training might be intensively over a week or spread over several months of sessions. “I don’t think we are fundamentally in disagreement,” said one man. “Where we differ is our understanding of the political context.” As a society, we have three choices when confronted with different opinions. First, we can withdraw from interaction and keep to our inner circle. Second, we can try to dominate and impose our beliefs on others. Or thirdly, we can learn to live and grow with them. “Listening to opposing opinions can enrich us,” [Jean-Luc Verreaux, director-general of the institute] elaborates. “A diversity of perspectives can only improve how we build the world of tomorrow.”
Note: Our Substack, The Social Media Platform Transforming Division Into Common Ground, spotlights a game-changing social platform that's using technology for good and bringing people together across differences. Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division.
Marina Cantacuzino is the founder of The Forgiveness Project. The non-profit uses storytelling to explore individual journeys towards forgiveness, particularly by those who have faced some of life’s hardest trials –the murder of a loved one, the injustice of abuse, the degradation of torture. The project also hosts restorative justice programs in prisons, helping inmates to come to terms with their crimes. "I think of Andrew Rice, whose brother was killed in the Twin Towers," [said Cantacuzino]. "Rice says, you know, “those people calling loudest for retribution, are those people least affected.” And I think there’s something about having been there, gone there, to the darkest places that very often connect you to humanity. Accountability becomes really important, and you do find that this is where restorative justice comes in, that many victims will tell you that the most healing thing of all isn’t the ten-year prison sentence, but it is the acknowledgment from the offender, that they did wrong. That they want to create a better life and make sure that it’s never repeated. But I think it’s important to say that forgiveness doesn’t preclude or exclude justice." The [definition] I use is ‘Forgiveness is making peace with something or someone that you cannot change.’ I heard Fred Luskin, who’s a great expert on forgiveness, say recently that ... now he’s come down to freedom. Forgiveness is freedom, he says. First, you have to have compassion for yourself in order to have compassion for others, and you have to have ... emotional awareness. And that requires humility. I think it also requires courage. Because very often it’s an isolating position. It’s easy to judge and criticize and hold a grudge, and very often your friends and family and society want you to do that. And so it does require courage in facing your fears. It also requires a willingness to be vulnerable ... to feel the pain. There’s one of the stories Camilla Carr, where she put it rather beautifully: “First you have to deal with the anger, then with tears, and only once you reach the tears are you on the road to finding peace of mind.”
Note: Watch WantToKnow.info Director Amber Yang's powerful 38-minute interview with Marina Cantacuzino. In the face of the brutal war machine, these powerful real-life stories show that we can heal, reimagine better alternatives, and plant the seeds of a global shift in consciousness to transform our world. Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division.
Being hurt by others is common and can be deeply painful. Which raises the question of forgiveness. In the last few decades, researchers have helped us better understand how people experience forgiveness and how it influences our lives. The Global Flourishing Study seeks to enrich this knowledge from a more global perspective. Launched in 2021, the study follows people over time to understand what a good life looks like in different parts of the world – including health, happiness, meaning, relationships, character, and financial security. It’s the first study to measure forgiveness in national samples from many different cultures and contexts. In the first wave of data from more than 200,000 participants across 22 countries, my colleagues and I found that about 75% of individuals reported they had “often” or “always” forgiven those who had hurt them. Percentages varied across countries, ranging from 41% in Turkey to 92% in Nigeria. We looked at whether people who reported being more forgiving tended to report better well-being about a year later. We found that forgiveness predicted somewhat higher well-being on many of the 56 outcomes, including mental health, purpose in life, relationship satisfaction and hope. Decades of research have pointed to similar links. The hopeful news is that forgiveness isn’t a rare quality that some of us have and others lack. Studies have shown that forgiveness is like a muscle we can strengthen.
Note: For people who find forgiveness especially challenging, this project produced a forgiveness workbook that can be completed in about three hours. In the face of the brutal war machine, these powerful real-life stories show that we can heal, reimagine better alternatives, and plant the seeds of a global shift in consciousness to transform our world. Explore more powerful stories like this on healing social division.
“Agrihoods” [are] communities designed around a central farm. Like a garden in a big city, agrihoods promise to boost food security, reduce temperatures, capture rainwater and increase biodiversity. As climate change intensifies heat, flooding and pressure on food systems, agrihoods could be a way to make urban living more resilient — not just more picturesque. “Developers have a hard time offering open space, because they would like to build more housing,” said Vincent Mudd, a partner at the architectural firm Steinberg Hart, which designs agrihoods. “One of the few ways to kind of bridge that gap is to be able to use active open space that actually generates commerce.” On paper, an agrihood is a simple concept: A working farm surrounded by single- or multifamily housing. Steinberg Hart recently finished two of them in California — one in Santa Clara and another, called Fox Point Farms, in Encinitas. Scale that food production up across a city, and the impact could be huge: One study found that Los Angeles could meet a third of its need for vegetables by converting vacant lots into gardens. These green spaces help cool the neighborhood because their plants release water vapor, making summer more comfortable for the surrounding community. An agrihood can also support local biodiversity. Planting native flowering species, for instance, simultaneously beautifies the landscape and attracts pollinating insects, hummingbirds and bats.
Note: The rise of urban food forests across the US are ensuring that communities belong to affordable, equitable and resilient local food systems. Communities from Los Angeles, Florida, Illinois, to suburbs in the Netherlands are growing organic vegetables and food in their own yards, sharing their resources, and transforming neighborhoods. “I can’t think of a more generous gift to give to the community than to grow delicious, naturally organic food for the direct community,” [says Crop Swap LA subscriber] Katherine Wong. “This is one of the noblest things anyone is doing today.” Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and healing the Earth.
I moved to Fawkner, Melbourne with my partner and kids about five years ago, in search of affordable housing. The suburb was nice enough but I felt unmoored. Then I signed up to help with our school garden. On volunteer day, my partner pushed our kids to school in a wheelbarrow, and I was armed with a shovel and pitchfork. Around 50 people turned up to the school on a Sunday to help with the garden, and while the kids played, the adults chose jobs according to our levels of ability and enthusiasm. My partner opted to repair the garden beds and I went for the lower-stakes job of weeding. It was slow and careful work, pulling out dandelions and chickweed. Between gardening and tending to the kids, there were moments of socialising: a nod of thanks from a teacher, a chat with another parent about the out-of-control compost heap that lives behind the mud kitchen. These conversations were tentative, at least on my part; the pandemic and early motherhood had left me out of practice when it came to socialising. However, the school garden was the perfect place to learn how to be with other people again and I could see that I was surrounded by the sorts of people who I wanted to befriend. Working together in this way brings us close to what Aristotle called “the friendship of the good”. This, according to Aristotle, is the best kind of friendship: it happens when you see the good in another person, and they in you. It is very different to what he calls a “utilitarian friendship”, where we spend time with another person because of what they can do for us. A friendship of the good, conversely – like the school garden itself – is about creating something bigger than ourselves.
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and healing the Earth.
Iranian Samereh Alinejad wanted revenge after her teenage son was murdered in a street fight. But in a dramatic turn at the gallows, literally moments before the killer was to be executed, Alinejad made a last-minute decision to pardon the man. She explained later that her son had come to her in a dream and asked her not to take revenge. Domestic violence survivor Pascale Kavanagh said that she never thought she would reconnect with her mother—her abuser—during her adult life. However, in 2010, her mother suffered several strokes that left her unable to communicate or take care of herself. With no one else to help, Kavanagh began to sit by her mother’s bedside and read to her. By caring for her mother day by day, Kavanagh said the hate she had for her mother dissipated into forgiveness and love. Mary Hedges was at a mall with her son when two boys pushed a cart over a railing onto her, causing severe brain injury ... and the amputation of her right foot. Even though she suffered a coma and spent weeks fighting for her life, Hedges was forgiving of her young attackers and launched a foundation called Sweet Returns to help mentor teens. Steven McDonald was a young police officer in 1986 when he was shot by a teenager in New York’s Central Park, an incident that left him paralyzed. “I forgave [the shooter] because I believe the only thing worse than receiving a bullet in my spine would have been to nurture revenge in my heart,” McDonald wrote.
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For seven years, I was a white nationalist skinhead and the front man of a neo-Nazi metal band based in Milwaukee. The life I led was toxic to myself and everyone around me. I was drawn in when I was 16. I was an angry, lonely kid, searching for something: identity, purpose, belonging. I found it, or thought I did, in a fantasy: the idea that I was part of a master race under siege. We justified brutal attacks — what we called "boot parties" — on people we saw as enemies: people of color, LGBTQ folks, Jews, punks, anyone who wasn't us. I'd hear a quiet voice inside asking, "What are you doing? This guy didn't do anything to you. You don't even know him," but I didn't have the courage to listen. In early 1994, the mother of my daughter and I broke up, and I found myself a single parent to our 18-month-old. Two months later, a second friend of mine was shot and killed. I'd lost count of how many friends had been incarcerated. It finally hit me that if I didn't leave, prison or death would take me from my daughter. That was the push I needed. I realized something profound: what I had been searching for all along — belonging, joy, connection — wasn't found in hate, it was in community. Today, I work with Parents for Peace, an organization that helps people caught in extremism find a healthier, more connected life. We support individuals on their journey — whether they're questioning, struggling, or still deeply entrenched — and we guide families trying to reach a loved one.
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Angela King was 19 and deeply entrenched in a white supremacist organization when Timothy McVeigh bombed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people. The year was 1995, and King recalls watching the aftermath on TV. “That was the first time that I ever considered [that what I was doing wasn’t] just a game,” King says. “This was a whole other level of violence and destruction.” King could see something of herself in McVeigh, and the reflection scared her. They shared the same ideology. The anger that drove McVeigh to blow up a building came from the same ideas that shaped her belief system. Untwining herself from that world would not be easy. Leaving behind the people she called her friends would prove challenging, but not as challenging as moving past the ideology that had become a part of who she was. It would take more than four years, a prison sentence, some unexpected kindness from a Jamaican inmate, and nearly two decades of sharing her story — with all its shame and violence — to replace hatred with forgiveness. Today, nearly 25 years after the Oklahoma City bombing, King is a co-founder of and programs director for Life After Hate, a nonprofit that helps people leave extremist groups. King shares her story not because it’s easy. But she and other members of Life After Hate do it in the hope that others going through something similar will hear their stories, see someone they can reach out to for help, and envision a way ... forward.
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For 25 years, Jeff Schoep headed America's largest Neo-Nazi organisation, the National Socialist Movement. Now ... he says he is committed to helping deradicalise people who hold the extremist views he used to preach. "Hating people is exhausting. When you can't tolerate other people and other systems of belief ... there's something wrong with you and the way you're looking at things," Mr Schoep said. "Once you have the opportunity to see and understand somebody else's viewpoint, from their perspective of their story in life, that can be life-altering." Mr Schoep said his time at the helm of the National Socialist Movement was like being the leader of a cult. "I felt like I was going to save my race, and I was a patriot for my country ... that was what drove me," he said. A revelation for Mr Schoep occurred in 2016 when he agreed to an interview with Daryl Davis, a prolific African-American jazz musician who worked to deradicalise Neo-Nazi groups. Mr Davis spoke of the impact that racism had on his own life, which began when he was pelted with rocks as a child marching in a Boy Scout parade, asking Mr Schoep, "How could someone hate me when they don't even know me?" "I was told that racism was wrong in school, by my parents, my grandfather, everybody," Mr Schoep said. "But none of that resonated until I sat across from somebody that had experienced it firsthand and how it made them feel. "Daryl never told me how I was wrong; he showed me how I was wrong."
Note: Read more about the powerful anti-racist work of Daryl Davis. Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division.
What if a ticket to the opera could also be a prescription against loneliness? In Hamburg, the nonprofit KulturistenHochZwei — a play on the words culture (kultur) and tourists (touristen) — is turning concert and museum visits into powerful social medicine. Founded in 2015 by Christine Worch ... the initiative pairs teenagers with older adults to attend cultural events — everything from symphony performances to plays and art exhibitions. For the seniors, many of whom live on limited incomes and might otherwise stay home alone, these shared outings are a way back into public life. “With the young people, I feel young again,” one 85-year-old from Bramfeld in the northeastern part of the city said after a concert at Hamburg’s Elbphilharmonie. “They’re so kind and respectful. Everyone talks badly about youth these days, but these students are wonderful. We even exchanged phone numbers. I hope we can go again soon.” The idea is as elegant as it is effective. Seniors who fall below the income threshold — €1,350 ($1,575) per month for individuals or €1,750 ($2,040) for couples — receive free tickets to cultural events. But instead of attending alone, they’re matched with a “culture buddy” aged 16 or older, recruited through partnerships with local schools. For the young volunteers, the outings are a crash course in empathy and human connection. The teenagers commit to at least three cultural outings per school year and receive a certificate for their volunteer service.
Note: Explore more positive stories like this on healing social division and amazing seniors.
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