There's a difference between doing something and doing it right. You can check a box, sign your name, make the announcement, and hold the press conference. But that's not the same as solving a problem. And too often these days, we're watching leaders choose the performance of action over the practice of responsibility.

Doing it right doesn't always mean getting your way. It doesn't mean proving you're the smartest one in the room or holding power simply to show you can. It means asking: Who benefits? Who is harmed? Does this move us closer to serving the most people, especially the most vulnerable, or does it harden the divides and leave more people behind in the long run?

We don't have to look far to see the cost of not doing it right. The government shutdown is a prime example. It is not the result of a lack of ideas. It is not because we don't know how to fund a government. It is the result of ego. Of refusing to compromise, of preferring the theater of brinkmanship to the quiet, unglamorous work of governing.

Shutdowns are not abstractions. They don't punish the politicians holding the microphones; they punish the workers without paychecks, the families waiting on food assistance, the veterans counting on appointments, and the small businesses that can't get loans processed. Doing it right would mean keeping the government functioning, full stop. But the incentives in our politics reward the opposite; they reward the posture, the sound bite, and the stubbornness. There are brownie points from your base when you stick it to the other side, regardless of the long-term costs to people.

This is true in more places than Washington. In cities and states, in school boards and councils, we are watching decisions shaped less by what would be effective and more by what would be loud. Sometimes I think the question isn't whether we know how to do it right, but whether anyone can set aside their ego long enough to make the better choice.

Of course, "doing it right" is not always simple. Reasonable people can disagree about how to solve homelessness, about what public safety looks like, and about how to grow an economy. But disagreement is different from sabotage. Disagreement still leaves space for compromise. Sabotage leaves only wreckage, and the wreckage usually falls on people with the least protection.

The irony is that real problem-solving rarely makes headlines. The city staffer who untangles a mess of bureaucracy for a resident doesn't get a camera crew. The committee that works late to hammer out a compromise budget doesn't trend on social media. The work of doing it right looks like patience, collaboration, and care, and those are exactly the qualities that the ego-driven version of politics discards.

Every time our leaders refuse to do the work of cooperation, they hollow out democracy itself. They reduce it to a spectacle of self.

So what does it mean to "do it right" in this moment? It means remembering who the government is for. It's not for the grandstanding politician or for the party that wants a win at all costs, but for the people who can least afford to lose. It means asking whether your decisions add stability or strip it away. It means keeping the lights on, literally and figuratively.

Ego is easy. Doing it right can be hard. But if we're serious about being a functioning society, the choice shouldn't be.

Cassie McClure is a writer, millennial, and unapologetic fan of the Oxford comma. She can be contacted at [email protected]. To learn more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Imran Abdul Jabar at Unsplash