Our country is living through a fragile time. The divisions we face cut deep. Seeping into families, neighborhoods and the spaces where we once found common ground. Every tragedy seems to be politicized. Every hardship is turned into fuel for outrage. And every cycle of mistrust leaves us more likely to fracture than before. We must remember that the strength of this nation is derived from our ability to care for one another. That we all have the individual choice to choose compassion to mend these wounds in order to rebuild the civic health of our nation.
My life has been shaped by two traditions that depend on that very truth: a career in the military and one I am embarking on in medicine. Both sectors have taught me that trust and community are not luxuries but key tenets of survival. When trust breaks down, the consequences are measured not in headlines or approval ratings but in human lives.
I grew up in Kansas where neighbors didn’t ask for a political affiliation before lending a hand. At West Point, and later as an infantry officer, I saw how this same spirit plays out in extreme situations. Soldiers will not follow a leader who ignores their concerns or dismisses their perspectives. Trust is earned not by authority alone but by the willingness to hear others out. Listening builds cohesion, and cohesion is what carries people through hardship. Leadership is not about domination. It is about creating the conditions where people feel heard, respected and united in purpose.
Medicine echoes the same lesson. As a medical student, I’ve learned that no amount of expertise matters if patients don’t feel heard. Healing begins with humility, not authority. It begins with listening rather than lecturing. A physician who fails to build trust cannot hope to guide a patient toward recovery. Medicine is at its best when it is deeply collaborative and rooted in respect and compassion. A physician doesn’t “win” an argument with a patient. A doctor, like an elected official, should listen more than they speak.
The common good is not an abstract phrase. It is the neighbor who checks in after a storm, a soldier who carries the extra weight so someone else can keep trudging forward, or the nurse who listens when a patient is scared and uncertain. It is the act of choosing community over chaos, and the recognition that no problem is solved alone. Service is about stewardship. It is about responsibility to others, particularly when it requires patience, sacrifice or humility. And that is precisely the kind of renewal our country needs now.
We are living in an age when outrage travels faster than compassion, and fear seems louder than hope. But outrage and fear never builds anything that lasts. Community builds. Trust builds. Service builds. The lessons of resilience and humility can point us to the kind of growth we need. Growth should be rooted in responsibility to one another.
This responsibility belongs to our elected officials, but it also belongs to all of us, as well. In every conversation, we should choose listening over shouting. We should strive for acts of kindness that bridge differences. We must refuse to let mistrust harden into permanence. These are the quiet but powerful acts that rebuild the civic health of a country. Our communities can mend through the steady work of empathy and service.
This moment in our history could easily become a breaking point. But it could also be a turning point. If soldiers can endure hardship by trusting one another, and patients and physicians can find healing through collaboration, then our communities can find a way forward by choosing community first. The path is not quick or easy. But it is the only one that leads to real growth.
Arran Rounds MD’28 can be reached at arran_rounds@brown.edu. Please send responses to this column to letters@browndailyherald.com and other opinions to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
