I first met Marshall Ganz 50 years ago, when he came to oversee the Toronto grape boycott for the California farmworkers led by Cesar Chavez. I was a member of the Scarborough boycott committee and full of youthful enthusiasm. I had no idea that, years later, he would become one of the most respected and influential adult educators in our world.

Marshall went on to work on key movement building efforts in the United States, including training leaders in each of the 50 states for Obama’s 2008 election campaign. His unique methodology is called the “power of narrative”—training people to draw from their own personal journey to tell a compelling story that invites others into the struggle for social justice.

It’s what he has learned from working in the civil rights movement, with the farm workers, and with political campaigns that defeated powerful and well-funded opponents. The approach is rooted in the collective power of ordinary people, and today extends to a network of training in nearly 80 countries across the world. He has finally published the book on his model of organizing—it should be read by every social justice activist.

Marshall introduces the three questions of Hebrew theologian Rabbi Hillel. If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am for myself alone, what am I? If not now, when? He unpacks the meaning of those questions through richly told stories of numerous campaigns over six decades. And he provides a unique but powerful definition: “Leadership is the ability to allow others to act in common purpose in a time of uncertainty.”

It’s worth letting those words sink in. I come from the construction side of the trade union movement, marked by strong personalities and strong opinions. Our culture is about leading members in a fight, sometimes against seemingly impossible odds. But Marshall asks us to adapt that culture so that it builds up many others to be essential actors on their own, not just following a strong leader.

This is vital for people who don’t have powerful institutions or lots of money to mount campaigns. For Marshall, the key is how people can use the resources they do have. He points to a different way of determining that dynamic: start with asking “who are my people” rather than “what is the issue”. As people can come together, they will determine what is most important to fight for, and what resources they can utilize. An example from the Montgomery bus boycott: the Black working class in that city used their feet to walk to work for 13 months rather than ride the bus, and eventually forced a change.

Every successful movement finds ways to keep encouraging solidarity and hope. Ganz suggests you start by painting a picture of hope (to reach the heart), then finding the way to strategize (using the head), and finally determining how to move into action (the hands). It is one of the clearest reminders of what is needed for organizing a union in a workplace, starting a campaign for social justice, or defending community well-being.

There are lots of guides to building campaigns, but I have seen few rely on drawing on the lived experience of the people being asked to engage. The essential foundation of the Power of Narrative program asks us to examine their own life, and the events or relationships that shaped the person we are today. Sometimes that involves overcoming personal hardships or reacting to injustice done to others, but often it is the values you learn from family or community. Together they inform your determination to speak out. Your story helps show others who you really are, and why they should invest their time in common cause with you. The story of self leads to the story of us—who are we in this room and what we have in common. And then the story of now identifies the challenge or opportunity that is in front of you.

That is particularly true when people are being asked to take risks. From signing a union card, to going on strike, challenging racist behaviour or coming out to your family and co-workers. When you ask people to act, there is always a risk that it might not work out, or that they may pay a price for that decision. Knowing who you are—much more than your title or station in life—helps create a sense of trust and community.

We all know that power and politics is about relationships. The billionaires have their networks, the elites have their “old boys clubs” and the rest of us have family, co-workers, neighbours and friends. In a world that is growing more uncertain every day, the very basis of democracy—where working people are able to shape the decisions that affect their lives—is now under severe threat.

Ganz asserts that we need to embrace the craft of organizing to empower people to make a difference. He modestly suggests that the book is not an organizing model but is rooted in his own learning journey—and then invites you to embark on your own learning journey. In a forum 50 years after meeting Marshall, I asked him how seasoned leaders like me can pass on the knowledge we have learned through past struggles. The answer was in one way annoying, but probably the best advice I have ever received. It was one line: “do more listening”.

It’s true that listening may not have been the foremost skill of some of us, but I can share one thing. Reading People Power Change is the best form of communication I can imagine for 2025 and beyond.