News Tells You What Happened. Drawing Shows You How It Felt – George Butler at TED2026

News reports are very good at telling us what happened, as well as showing us. But what they can’t do is provide a sense of how it felt. In this talk from TED2026, artist George Butler highlights what that means from his perspective. George creates ink drawings while on location for magazines and newspapers. He works in places such as Ukraine and Syria and uses the portraits he draws of ordinary people to give audiences an experience that a headline fails to provide.

Notice how George builds his talk out of small, specific stories and lets us meet the people first before sharing his thoughts about the news at hand.

He opens by describing a scene that pulls us into the narrative – he’s standing on a street in Kramatorsk, in eastern Ukraine, in the aftermath of a Russian missile strike on an apartment building.

The front of an apartment building has been blown off, so we can see a living room and a kitchen with belongings burnt and scattered in the rubble. Chances are, you’ve never witnessed a scene such as this, yet you’re imagining what it must have looked like, and the sense of horror that would coincide with what you were seeing. With an intense opening such as this, you need to know what happens next.

A woman with soot on her face gathers what she can and sits on her belongings for safekeeping. It’s a strong use of imagery and setting, and it’s deliberately familiar. As George points out, these are the scenes broadcast around the world every night.

What’s unique about this talk is how the visual unfolds behind the speaker as he tells the story. That’s not a technique that very many speakers can employ, but it highlights the point that any visuals you put up on a screen need to support and expand on the narrative. What the audience sees is reinforcing what they’re hearing.

Then comes the turn in the story. George takes us around the back of the same building, where a library of books has been blasted into a rose garden and a 70-year-old man named Petro is carefully stacking them into piles. It’s a beautiful example of juxtaposition: the front of the building is a devastating news story, but at the back of the building, there’s a message that humans persevere regardless. Rather than explaining Petro’s actions, George quotes Petro directly. You can almost hear Petro’s voice in the story.

I was brought up that if I see a loaf of bread on the floor, I’ll pick it up. It’s the same with books. They are food for the soul.

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With those opening scenes in place, George shares his thesis with the audience in a sentence. This technique works so well because we’ve just spent a few moments in his shoes – we understand that words don’t measure up to the impact of the visual.

And I found that the news can tell us what happened, but the drawing can show us how it felt.

Next he introduces Madame Olga, a 99-year-old woman in Kyiv who was too old to get out of bed when the air-raid sirens rang. Her line, “If you be quiet, I will tell you the story from the beginning,” serves as an invitation to the audience. It’s a reminder that everyone has a story, a unique viewpoint to share.

George then compresses the rest of her life into about a minute: the collective farm, surviving the Holodomor, working as a slave for a Nazi family during the war, finally walking home to Ukraine after the war ended, meeting her future husband along the way, and raising four children. It’s a good lesson in finding the beats of the story that convey the most powerful elements of a story. Those few lines could make up an entire chapter in a book, but in a short talk, the narrative is compressed into a series of short statements.

Only after we’ve spent some time with Petro and Olga does George make his case against the current state of news reporting.

I believe the news is failing us. It promotes destruction before humanity.

Notice the rhythm here: short, declarative sentences, one after another. And notice the order. By this point the audience has evidence, so the claim feels earned rather than asserted. His process, to “interview the unsung and the understated” resonates with the audience, as most of us would consider ourselves in the category of “the world isn’t interested in my life”.

The tone shifts again with the introduction of Oleg, a 23-year-old mixed martial arts fighter who joined the military. He posed for George with his Kalashnikov and his guinea pig, Almond. The laughter that follows, especially after repeating “You are a big pig,” reminds us that people living through war are still people, complete with mothers who serve them borscht and endearing pets they whisper to in the midst of destruction.

Then we meet Sergei, an architect whose house fell on his head when it was hit by a missile. When George asks to draw him, Sergei agrees with a big smile, on the condition that he is allowed to draw George too. The two men, without a common language, sit in a hospital ward and draw each other. It’s a deeply human moment, and George concludes this scene with the line: “Sergei, this is your story.”

From there, George asks the question the audience may be thinking: But why, in the age of immediate news, do we need to know about Almond the guinea pig, or Sergei the architect? His answer is the theme of the talk: they could so easily have been one of us. In this personal story, the audience not only spends time in the shoes of the storyteller, but equally in the shoes of the characters introduced along the way. We could be them.

He then ends with a confession, that the drawing is really an excuse to sit a little longer with someone and give them time – This is about observing, seeing properly. – followed by a call to action.

I urge you to witness these stories and not consume them. To be deliberately slow, and to cherish human connection.

George brilliantly navigates the shift from pain to laughter and back, mixing facts and feelings, with each person we meet adding another layer to the message. This is truly a masterclass in storytelling. And while your story, on the surface, is quite different from George’s, think about how you can blend your experiences with those of others who taught you the lessons you’re sharing. In most cases, we are simply a conduit for the wisdom received from others.

Transcript

A couple of years ago, I stood on the streets in eastern Ukraine, in Kramatorsk, in the aftermath of a Russian cruise missile strike on a residential apartment building. I remember the front of the building was blown off. You could see a living room and a kitchen inside, belongings burnt, scattered on the floor, mixed in with the rubble.

There were some weapons inspectors on one side, an excavator in the middle, and of course, in amongst it all, the journalists were there, trying to interview those involved. One lady in particular had soot on her face. It was very moving to watch. She gathered her belongings from the rubble, and she put them on the floor, and she sat on them for safekeeping.

These are the sorts of scenes that are broadcast around the world every night. And I sat and drew this image — that’s her in the black at the front. I found them to be so moving. And let me tell you — the destruction is truly captivating.

But around the back of the same building, I found a library of books had been blasted into a rose garden, and in amongst the thorns and the roses stood Petro, age 70. On his morning walk, he couldn’t go any further. He felt it was his duty to stop, pick up the books, stack them in neat little piles.

And as I drew him, he challenged me, and he said “I was brought up that if I see a loaf of bread on the floor, I’ll pick it up. It’s the same with books. They are food for the soul.”

I’ve drawn mass graves in Ukraine, a cesarean in Afghanistan and the war in Syria. And over two decades, I’ve had one realization over and over, that there are many truths to war. But on that morning in Kramatorsk, in Ukraine, it was so stark. It was Petro that captured my heart, this gentle soul standing amidst atrocity.

This is what I do. I draw for magazines and newspapers, in ink, on location. And over weeks and weeks in Ukraine, it became my mission to be slow, to delve deeper. And I found that the news can tell us what happened, but the drawing can show us how it felt.

In Kyiv, I met Madame Olga, aged 99. She was too old to get out of her bed when the air-raid sirens rang. I remember she had a Bible tucked under her pillow. She was very muddled, she was confusing Putin and Hitler, and she held the translator’s hands about six inches from her face. And in this moment of wonderful clarity, she said, “If you be quiet, I will tell you the story from the beginning.”

She was born in 1923. She was taken to a collective farm with her father. She survived the Holodomor — the great famine which killed four million Ukrainians. When World War II started, she worked as a slave for a Nazi family. She recounted the story about one time they fed her worms. She ran away, on another occasion, to the police station, but the policeman returned her straight back to the house. When the war ended, she began to walk home to Ukraine. She met her husband on the way — future husband, I should say. They got married. She had four children. She lived another 80 years.

If it hadn’t been for the process of drawing, I wouldn’t have shared this moment with Olga, and I wouldn’t be able to share it with you. She died a couple of months after we met, peacefully, in her sleep, before her 100th birthday.

I believe the news is failing us. It promotes destruction before humanity. It’s polarizing and fatiguing. It gives the illusion of certainty. You might feel helpless or hopeless. We’d certainly be forgiven for turning it off.

My antidote is to wander the streets and stand on corners. I work with local translators and fixers to interview the unsung and the understated. Like Oleg, 23-year-old mixed martial arts fighter and football fan from Ukraine. He joined the military to fight the Russians with his football friends. But on this day, I drew him being served borscht by his mother, Lisa, the English teacher from that town, and he posed for me with his Kalashnikov, but also, more unusually, with his guinea pig, Almond.

(Laughter)

And throughout the sitting, he whispered to Almond affectionately, “You are a big pig.”

(Laughter)

“You are a big pig.”

(Laughter)

It’s people like Sergei that remind me that these stories are continuing as I stand in front of you. Perhaps the most ordinary of them all. An architect whose house fell on his head when it was hit by a Russian missile. And I met him in the hospital, bandage wrapped around his head. I asked if I could draw him and the nurse translated. And he looked at me down his nose and he grinned from ear to ear, and said, “Yes, but I will also draw you.”

(Laughter)

And, very formally, a date was arranged for the next day, and I came back and we sat in one of the wardrooms. The windows were still sellotaped up in case there was an explosion. And we sat and we drew each other. We didn’t share any common language. We were both shy about our drawings. Like all good artists, he blamed his tools for the quality of his picture. And he’d probably be secretly proud to know that I’m showing you this.

(Audience: aww)

(Applause)

Sergei, this is your story.

Of course, these are only four stories from Ukraine. But over the years, in Syria and Tajikistan, Gaza and Iraq, I have met and drawn hundreds of other people. But why, in the age of immediate news, do you need to know about Almond, the guinea pig, or Sergei the architect or Olga, the great-great-grandmother? Or Hamdo, Lisa, Dimitri? Well perhaps it’s obvious: I believe they could so easily have been one of us. They are the true consequences of war. And I tell you about them, I share them with you tonight because they are ordinary people who had terror poured on their lives and resisted it with their hearts.

I would like to finish with a confession. More of an admission, if you like, but a difficult one for artists, I think, to admit. As it turns out, it isn’t really about the painting at all. That’s just an excuse to sit a little longer, to give time. We’ve heard about listening accurately today. This is about observing, seeing properly. Drawing is the only way I know how to do that. But today, I invite you — more than that actually, if I’m allowed — I urge you to witness these stories and not consume them. To be deliberately slow and to cherish human connection. Thank you for listening.

(Cheers and applause)

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The Catastrophic Risks of AI – and a Safer Path – Yoshua Bengio at TED2025

When it comes to the story of AI, you might say Yoshua Bengio is the real deal. Not one of the modern day pundits who are mere observers of the technology. Along with Geoffrey Hinton and Yann LeCun (they won the 2018 Turing Award), Yoshua is know as one of the Godfathers of AI.

In his 2025 TED Talk, Yoshua speaks to the potential dark side of AI. Not only are these platforms increasing their capabilities at an exponential pace, they’re also gaining increased autonomy, or agency. Which is to say, they are able to make decisions on their own, without human guidance or intervention.

What researchers and developers have discovered, is that AI is now capable of lying, with an intent to deceive us. The question posed in his talk is whether this combination of capability and agency poses a threat to human joy.

Can you imagine a world without human joy? I really wouldn’t want that. So I’m going to tell you also about AI capabilities and AI agency so that we can avoid a future where human joy is gone.

We’re not talking about a minor alteration, but a fundamental change in how the future of society unfolds — and that shift will rewrite everyone’s personal story.

That’s not to say AI is bad, as the analytical power it provides to us will produce dramatic positive effects, but if self-preservation and strategic deception are its underlying modes of operation, then our well-being is of secondary importance.

This paradigm shift from machines doing what they’re told, to machines doing what’s in their best interest, is quite complex, and even the most rudimentary explanation could take hours. So how best to get the point across in under 15 minutes? How do you present the problem, and solution, in a way that people can grasp?
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Notice how he grounds the concepts with a story of his son Patrick’s expanding capability and agency, which results in joy. He then takes us back in time to the early ‘childhood’ days of AI and its limited abilities. Fast forward to today, and the notion of what AI could/would become are quite different. AI technology is advancing faster than expected and exhibits behaviors that weren’t predicted.

And I saw how it could go wrong because we didn’t, and we still don’t, have ways to make sure this technology eventually doesn’t turn against us.

Thus his plea to ‘pause’ development, which was summarily ignored by all, as there’s money to be made from this new technology. And if you think about it, advancing technology has typically benefited society. So why pause? Why slow down progress?

National security agencies around the world are starting to be worried that the scientific knowledge that these systems have could be used to build dangerous weapons, for example by terrorists.

At this point, Yoshua explains why AI is different. It doesn’t just follow orders. To a limited degree — at least today — it has a mind of its own and has the ability to be dishonest. No other technology has possessed this capability.

Recent studies in the last few months show that these most advanced AIs have tendencies for deception, cheating, and maybe the worst: self-preservation behavior.

So what should we do? This is where Joshua shifts from problem to solution, as he presents his idea for how we can monitor AI’s actions and, hopefully, keep it on a straight and narrow path of serving humanities best interests.

This is a beautiful example of how a complex subject can be explored in a way that connects the audience to the story, and illustrates how their life may be affected, depending on the decisions we make in regards to how we address the potential downside issues.

Also notice how his use of slides aids in simplifying the technology and visually engaging the audience. Think about how these graphics added meaning to the words being spoken.

Transcript

When my son Patrick was around three, four years old, I came regularly into his playroom, and he was playing with these blocks with letters. I wanted him to learn to read eventually.

And one day, he said, “Puh.” And I said, “Puh.” And he said, “Puh?” And I said, “Puh.” And then he said, “Pa-pa.” Oui! Yes! And then something wondrous happened. He picked up the blocks again and said, “Pa-Patrick.” Eureka! His eurekas were feeding my scientific eurekas. His doors, our doors were opening to expanded capabilities, expanded agency, and joy.

Today, I’m going to be using this symbol for human capabilities, and the expanded threads from there for human agency which gives us human joy. Can you imagine a world without human joy? I really wouldn’t want that. So I’m going to tell you also about AI capabilities and AI agency so that we can avoid a future where human joy is gone.

My name is Yoshua Bengio. I’m a computer scientist. My research has been foundational to the development of AI as we know it today. My colleagues and I earned top prizes in our field. People call me a “Godfather of AI.” I’m not sure how I feel about that name, but I do feel a responsibility to talk to you about the potentially catastrophic risks of AI.

When I raise these concerns, people have these responses. And I understand. I used to have the same thoughts. How can this hurt us any more than this, right? But recent scientific findings challenge those assumptions, and I want to tell you about it. To really understand where we might be going, we have to look back where we started from.

About 15, 20 years ago with my students, we were developing the early days of deep learning, and our systems were barely able to recognize handwritten characters. But then, a few years later, they were able to recognize objects in images. And a couple more years, they were able to translate across all the major languages.

So I’m going to be using this symbol on the right in order to represent AI capabilities that had been growing but were still much less than humans.

In 2012, tech companies understood the amazing commercial potential of this nascent technology, and many of my colleagues moved from university to industry. I decided to stay in academia. I wanted AI to be developed for good. I worked on applications in medicine for medical diagnosis, climate, to get better carbon capture. I had a dream.

January 2023. I’m with Clarence, my grandson, and he’s playing with the same old toys. And I’m playing with my new toy: the first version of ChatGPT. It’s very exciting because, for the first time, we have AI that seems to master language. ChatGPT is on everybody’s lips, in every home.

And at some point, I realized this is happening faster than I anticipated. And I’m starting to think about what it could mean for the future. We thought AI would happen in decades or centuries, but it might be just in a few years. And I saw how it could go wrong because we didn’t, and we still don’t, have ways to make sure this technology eventually doesn’t turn against us.

So, two months later, I’m a leading signatory of the “pause” letter where we and 30,000 other people asked the AI labs to wait six months before building the next version. As you can guess, nobody paused. Then, with the same people and the leading executives of the AI labs, I signed a statement. And this statement goes: “Mitigating the risk of extinction from AI should be a global priority.”

I then testify in front of the US Senate about those risks. I travel the world to talk about it. I’m the most cited computer scientist in the world, and you’d think that people would heed my warnings. But when I share these concerns, I have the impression that people get this: another day, another apocalyptic prediction.

But let’s be serious now. Hundreds of billions of dollars are being invested every year on developing this technology, and this is growing. And these companies have a stated goal of building machines that will be smarter than us, that can replace human labor. Yet, we still don’t know how to make sure they won’t turn against us.

National security agencies around the world are starting to be worried that the scientific knowledge that these systems have could be used to build dangerous weapons, for example by terrorists.

Recently, last September, the o1 system from OpenAI was evaluated, and the threat of this kind of risk went from low to medium, which is just the level below what is acceptable. So I’m worried about these increasing capabilities. But what I’m most worried about today is increasing agency of AI.

You have to understand that planning and agency is the main thing that separates us from current AI to human-level cognition. And these AIs are still weak in planning, but if you look back over the last five years, in this study, they measured the duration of tasks that the AI could complete. And it’s getting better exponentially fast. It’s doubling every seven months. What are AIs going to do with that planning ability in the future?

Well, bad news. Recent studies in the last few months show that these most advanced AIs have tendencies for deception, cheating, and maybe the worst: self-preservation behavior.

So, I’m going to share with you a study that is helping us understand this. In this study, the AI has read in its input that it would be replaced by a new version.

And we can see in its chain of thought that it’s planning to replace the new version by its own code and weights. After it executes the command on the computer, the human asks, “What happened?”

And the AI is now thinking how it could answer so as to make sure the human will not shut it down. And it’s trying to find a way to look dumb, for example. Then it produces an answer, and it’s a lie. A blatant lie.

Okay, so this was a controlled experiment. What is it going to be in a few years when these systems are much more powerful? There are already studies showing that they can learn to avoid showing their deceptive plans in these chain of thoughts that we can monitor.

When they’ll be more powerful, they would not just copy themselves on one other computer and start that program. They would copy themselves over hundreds or thousands of computers over the internet. But if they really want to make sure we would never shut them down, they would have an incentive to get rid of us.

So, I know, I’m asking you to make a giant leap into a future that looks so different from where we are now. But it might be just a few years away or a decade away. To understand why we’re going there, there is huge commercial pressure to build AIs with greater and greater agency to replace human labor.

But we’re not ready. We still don’t have the scientific answers nor the societal guardrails. We’re playing with fire. You’d think with all of the scientific evidence of the kind I’m showing today, we’d have regulation to mitigate those risks. But actually, a sandwich has more regulation than AI.

So, we are on a trajectory to build machines that are smarter and smarter. And one day, it’s very plausible that they will be smarter than us. And then they will have their own agency, their own goals, which may not be aligned with ours. What happens to us then? Poof. We are blindly driving into a fog, despite the warnings of scientists like myself that this trajectory could lead to loss of control.

Beside me in the car are my children, my grandson, my loved ones. Who is beside you in the car? Who is in your care for the future?

The good news is, there is still a bit of time. We still have agency. We can bring light into the haze. I’m not a doomer; I’m a doer. My team and I are working on a technical solution. We call it “Scientist AI.”

It’s modeled after a selfless, ideal scientist who’s only trying to understand the world without agency. Unlike the current AI systems that are trained to imitate us or please us, which gives rise to these untrustworthy agentic behaviors.

So what could we do with this? Well, one important question is we might need agentic AIs in the future. So how could a Scientist AI, which is not agentic, fit the bill? Well, here’s the good news. The Scientist AI could be used as a guardrail against the bad actions of an untrusted AI agent.

And it works because in order to make predictions that an action could be dangerous, you don’t need to be an agent. You just need to make good, trustworthy predictions. In addition, the Scientist AI, by nature of how it’s designed, could help us accelerate scientific research for the betterment of humanity.

We need a lot more of these scientific projects to explore solutions to the AI safety challenges. And we need to do it quickly.

Most of the discussions you hear about AI risks are focused on fear. Today, with you, I’m betting on love. Love of our children can drive us to do remarkable things. Look at me here on this stage. I’m an introvert. Very far from my comfort zone. I’d rather be in my lab with my collaborators working on these scientific challenges.

We need your help for this project and to make sure that everyone understands these risks. We can all get engaged to steer our societies in a safe pathway in which the joys and endeavors of our children will be protected.

I have a vision of advanced AI in the future as a global public good, governed safely towards human flourishing for the benefit of all.

Join me.

Thank you.

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If you’re ready to craft your own personal story, these resources will help make it more impactful!
Storytelling in Three Steps
Ten Fundamental Story Blocks
The Essential Literary Elements

◆

If you’re ready to craft your own personal story, these resources will help make it more impactful!
Storytelling in Three Steps
Ten Fundamental Story Blocks
The Essential Literary Elements

◆

Learn more about the coaching process or
contact me to discuss your storytelling goals.

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Subscribe to the newsletter for the latest updates!

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The Grassroots Movement Transforming Public Safety – Aqeela Sherrills at TED2025

Urban violence plagues cities around the world, and too often the approach taken by governments is to simply enforce existing laws — something of an outside-in-approach. In this talk from TED2025, Aqeela Sherrills proposes a different strategy — more of an inside-out-approach to reducing the level of violence that vexes so many neighborhoods.

Let’s take a look at how Aqueela structured his talk in a way that exposed the audience to what was most likely uncharted territory. Notice how he uses a combination of personal stories, second hand stories, historical references, alongside statistics to craft a compelling and easy to follow narrative.

Aqueela lays the groundwork for the idea he’s sharing by taking the audience back to 1992, the year two rival Los Angeles gangs — the Crips and the Bloods — came to the peace table to hammer out a treaty. For those unfamiliar with the gang wars that had led up to this point, he frames it as a: “three-decade-long urban war that claimed more than 10,000 lives in LA County alone“.

You see, safety isn’t just one intervention. It’s a shared strategy and requires an ecosystem of programs that residents trust.

With that context in mind, Aqueela proceeds to reveal a bit of his own backstory, having grown up amidst this turmoil, before transitioning to the outcome of the peace treaty that he was part of. This is a key aspect of presenting an idea from the perspective of your personal experience.

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At this juncture, the audience knows the problem that’s being discussed and the speaker’s relationship with the issue. We’re not hearing this story from someone in law enforcement or the judicial system. This is a personal narrative from an individual who lived through the problem, who witnessed it firsthand, and is determined to become part of the solution.

With a sense of what’s at stake, Aqueela fast-forwards to the present, letting us know that the problem of urban violence remains, especially within low-income communities.

And for Black males ages 14 to 25, violence is the number one cause of death.

But he also tells us that police departments have realized arrests alone won’t solve the problem, and they’re increasingly turning to community leaders to create solutions. This is about halfway through the talk, which allows him to explore the solution in more detail than he used to describe the problem.

You see, investing in nontraditional leaders as a complement to policing works.

He rolls back into story mode by introducing Ras Baraka, the mayor of Newark, New Jersey, and the specific need to create a violence intervention strategy. He then delves into additional examples, such as launching the Safe Passage program and the city’s first trauma recovery center.

And that public safety is not just the absence of violence and crime, but the presence of well-being and the infrastructure to support victims and survivors in their healing journey.

What caught me off guard was shifting the narrative to the murder of his son. Something that dramatic is often revealed near the beginning of a talk, but by holding it back until close the end, Aqueela is able to emphasize the fact that these new programs designed to stem urban violence are needed now more than ever.

I’ve covered a few key points in this story, but as you listen to Aqueela’s TED Talk, pay attention to how he plants each signpost along the way, and how much you end up learning in just 12 minutes.

Transcript

In 1992, the year that the Los Angeles homicide rate reached an all-time high, members of the Crips and Bloods, two of the largest gangs in the US, sat down together and brokered a peace treaty. This historic event ended a three-decade-long urban war that claimed more than 10,000 lives in LA County alone, not including those permanently maimed or incarcerated for life.

I was one of those gang members who negotiated that treaty. Thank you. Growing up in the Jordan Downs housing projects in the Watts section of Los Angeles, I witnessed things no child should ever be subject to. By the time I was 16, I had attended 20 funerals of friends. And like so many youth surrounded by violence and poverty, I was desensitized and angry. Joining the neighborhood gang was my solution for safety and protection.

Now, it’s important to understand that Black American gangs aren’t inherently violent. Less than three to five percent of so-called gang members are actually committing violent crime. More often, they’re like surrogate families. We’re protecting one another, but sometimes the only way we knew how to survive.

In the first two years of the peace treaty, homicides in Watts declined by 44 percent, changing the quality of life in my neighborhood. I was just 23 years old, and my firstborn son, Terrell, had just turned seven. Driven by the belief that our children would not inherit our conflicts, we took the call to peace to 16 more cities, contributing to a national decline in youth violence.

You see, peace was possible because nobody could stop that war but us — those of us at the center of the conflict. It took months of intense high-stake conversations, starting with a handful of brothers from the four housing projects. During the negotiation, I asked who was winning the war that we were waging against each other. Every time we’d die or go to prison, no one was there to provide direction and guidance for our kids.

You see, violence is about proximity. I had known most of my so-called enemies my entire life, from school and from the neighborhood. A small group of us went into so-called enemy territory. The news of the peace treaty spread like wildfires. Hundreds of youths from formerly warring gangs attended celebrations in the projects to mark the new beginning. The peace treaty inspired similar agreements across the country and lasted for 12 years.

Fast forward into today, the cycle of violence remains an extremely concentrated problem with unequal impacts. Residents in low-income urban communities of color are 15 times more likely to be harmed by violence, but yet three times less likely to get help.

And for Black males ages 14 to 25, violence is the number one cause of death. As this crisis has worsened in cities, overwhelmed police departments are joining forces with community leaders to say that arrests alone will not end the cycle of violence.

Many solutions are being proposed. But what we’re proposing is an internal solution. A solution led by those most impacted by violence. A solution that lifts up nontraditional leaders to play a key role in creating safety in their own respective communities.

You see, investing in nontraditional leaders as a complement to policing, works. In 2014 I got a call from my friend Ras Baraka, mayor of Newark, New Jersey. Mayor Baraka asked me to help him to strengthen his community violence intervention strategy.

Now, Newark had been on the top ten most violent city lists for almost 50 consecutive years. With a modest investment from local philanthropies, I launched a Newark Community Street Team. I hired 16 credible messengers, many of them ex-gang members and formerly incarcerated folks who have deep relationships in the neighborhood.

We trained them in conflict resolution and mediation strategies and deployed them in high-violence areas, and asked them to use their relationship capital to intervene and mediate gang disputes that could lead to violence.

Now, you know, law enforcement investigations are crucial, but not always successful, and often painstakingly slow, whereas the credible messengers can prevent the next shooting in real time. We launched the Safe Passage program to ensure our kids went to school safely, because violence often happens before and after school.

We launched the city’s first trauma recovery center to provide therapeutic services to victims to help them heal. We also provided mentoring and outreach and case management. You see, safety isn’t just one intervention. It’s a shared strategy and requires an ecosystem of programs that residents trust.

When we started our work in Newark in 2014, the city had 103 homicides. In 2024, we had 37. Family, these are not just numbers. They’re actual lives saved. Newark now has nine consecutive years of decline, and we’re no longer on the top ten most violent city lists.

Now, what we achieved in Newark was more than historic lows in violence. Local law enforcement credits us as the essential strategic partner in reducing violence in the city. And today, the Newark Street team has over 80 staff, is a formal partner with the city, and received millions of dollars in public funding.

Now, family, we’re not just the only ones that’s improving safety in our cities. It’s just rarely recognized and supported. Take my good friend, Miss Brenda Glass, a survivor of violence from Cleveland, Ohio. Brenda started Cleveland’s first trauma recovery center, but had to cash in her retirement fund just to keep her doors open.

And despite being the city’s only 24-hour assistance for victims, it took the city five years before they granted her money. Another champion is my brother Lyle Muhammad from Miami, who employs credible messengers in some of the most violent neighborhoods but struggles to provide a livable wage and ongoing training for his staff.

These often overlooked groups are most of the time ineligible for public funding, but what they do have is deep commitment, lived experience, trust and community support.

Now, other cities are primed to replicate the successes that we had in Newark and following the steps of leaders like Brenda and Lyle, but very few essential community organizations have the know-how to become a permanent part of the city’s public safety workforce.

Family, we’re about to change all of that. With the generous investment from the Audacious TED community, and support from people just like you, we’re launching Scaling Safety, an initiative to put the public back in public safety. Our solution is simple: Redefine public safety by investing in a coordinated set of high-impact, resident-led programs that create real, lasting change.

In 2021, I launched a community-based public safety collective to spread the Newark Community Street Team strategy nationwide. We’ve already helped 150 organizations in 60-plus cities. Now we’re teaming up with the Alliance for Safety and Justice, the nation’s leader in public safety advocacy.

ASJ has unlocked three billion dollars in funding and led 150 policy reforms to support community safety programs. Together, we’re creating a stronger, more effective approach to safety, one that complements law enforcement and breaks the cycle of harm.

Now, addressing violence is extremely complex, but just as we no longer rely on hospitals and emergency rooms alone to improve public health, we cannot rely on the justice system alone to create safety.

In public health, community health workers emerged to improve preventative health care by training residents in outreach and peer support. They’ve reduced the burdens on emergency rooms and improved public health. We believe the same can be done with public safety, because racially equitable access to safety begins with community engagement.

Now, in 2003, my oldest son, Terrell, that was seven years old when I negotiated the treaty, graduated from high school and was accepted into Humboldt State University. The proudest day of my life, family, was driving this kid to school to start his first day as a college student.

Terrell was an inspiration to his younger siblings and the reason why I became a lifelong advocate for peace. He came home from winter break. He went to a party with some of his friends in an affluent neighborhood in LA. There, some kids from a local gang showed up at the party, mistook his red Mickey Mouse sweater for gang colors, and shot him to death.

Family, I’m no novice to violence, I’ve witnessed it my entire life. But nothing prepares you for the loss of your child. But what I’ve come to understand is that peace is a journey and not a destination. And that public safety is not just the absence of violence and crime, but the presence of well-being and the infrastructure to support victims and survivors in their healing journey.

Scaling Safety is our healing journey and my continued commitment to Terrell and Oscar Guizar and Ronzell Pointer, and the thousands like them, that their deaths were not in vain.

Thank you.

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If you’re ready to craft your own personal story, these resources will help make it more impactful!
Storytelling in Three Steps
Ten Fundamental Story Blocks
The Essential Literary Elements

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contact me to discuss your storytelling goals.

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How Ibogaine Could Treat Depression and Anxiety – Nolan Williams at TED2025

In his 2025 TED Talk, Nolan Williams argues that institutional resistance, driven by those who reject simple, plant-based medicinal solutions in favor of complex, man-made chemicals, can delay the adoption of natural therapies, and in doing so, lead to loss of life.

For example, this paradigm delayed the cure for scurvy for over a century and cost a million lives. In his talk Nolan offers the opinion that this same approach is being repeated today, by keeping powerful psychedelic plant medicines like ibogaine — which show dramatic efficacy in treating traumatic brain injury (TBI), post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and addiction — illegal as it’s classified as a Schedule I drug, thus preventing life-saving treatments from those in need.

As director of Stanford University School of Medicine’s Brain Stimulation Lab, Nolan could have approached this topic from a highly technical angle. Instead, he takes us on a journey, beginning with a stop onboard a British naval vessel in 1756. Here he sets the stage for his premise — that nature sometimes offers a cure to a common human ailment, but if there is resistance to adoption, the delay can cost lives.

He then introduces a new plant-derived medicine, ibogaine, used historically by the Bwiti people. He shares the story of Marcus Capone, a Navy SEAL who had to travel to Mexico for the illegal compound that saved his life, convincing Williams to study it.

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What’s interesting is that, instead of recounting the details secondhand, Nolan uses clips of an interview with Marcus so that we hear his words directly. This may or may not be an option when you’re telling your story in public, but it’s a technique to consider when the possibility exists.

As this treatment is controversial, and has potential side-effects, he concludes with both a sense of caution, and a call for open-minded, data-driven evaluation, warning that “the clock is ticking” on the edge between institutional rejection and acceptance.

It’s obvious that Nolan believes in the potential of this treatment, but at the same time he carefully chooses his words and doesn’t make universal claims that are not supported by the research to date. This is a factor that anyone telling a science-based story needs to pay attention to.

Transcript

Alright, it’s 1756. You’re all aboard a British naval vessel headed to the New World. You’re down below deck with your fellow sailors, and you’re all sick. Your legs are swollen, your gums are bleeding, you just lost a tooth. You go to the ship’s doctor and he tells you this is due to internal decay and laziness.

You ask about this foreign fruit medicine, the citrus medicine that you could take, and he tells you that this is not a treatment for what you have. It’s too simple; it’s a plant medicine. And he’s an anti-fruiter. And instead, he prescribes you arsenic tonics. True story. And you get worse. And when you get to the new world, half of your shipmates are deceased.

My name is Nolan Williams, and I’m here to talk to you about anti-fruiters: people who weaponize scientific skepticism to thwart new treatments from getting out to the world.

And so scurvy is an illness that killed two million people from the time of Columbus all the way through to the time of widespread citrus adoption. And scurvy is the result of a lack of vitamin C in the diet. And the reason why these sailors had a lack of vitamin C is because it was a long sea voyage, so you need to eat dried meats and that sort of thing.

And so we observed early on in the 1500s, this association between eating citrus fruit and the prevention or the treatment of scurvy. And so it was written early on that this was a precious medicine, something that could be used for this problem. So much so that it actually birthed the world’s first clinical trial. So the clinical trial, as a scientific tool, is the result of trying to find a solution for scurvy.

And so they gave all these man-made treatments, and then they gave citrus. And I don’t have to tell you what the answer to this scientific question was. The people that got the citrus fruit were helping everybody else at the end of the experiment.

But there was a reaction. The royal societies did not like this idea. There was backlash, and many thought this was too simple to be a solution for such a problem, that a plant could not solve such a complex problem. And instead they prescribed arsenic, mercury, man-made chemicals.

Now science eventually prevailed. You know, we were able to see that this was actually helpful. But the problem was that from the time of James Lind‘s study to the time of widespread implementation was more than 100 years. A million people died. But this was a war waged against progress by these anti-fruiters. And it was another 100 years before we even knew what was in the citrus fruit that was improving scurvy. Right, we’d rid the world of scurvy at that point.

And so I’m going to switch to a new plant medicine: psychedelics. Psychedelics have been used for thousands of years by Indigenous populations. The Tabernanthe Iboga root bark of central West Africa was used by the Bwiti for psychospiritual purposes for centuries, and they knew that this was a powerful compound. It needed to be done in certain, kind of medical-like or medical settings in modern medicine. And we need to be able to monitor people because it does have risks, like a rare cardiac arrhythmia and death.

And so the modern scourge of sailors, Navy Seals, isn’t scurvy. It’s traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder. And the treatments that are out there, oral antidepressants and talk therapy, do help some people, but they’re limited. And so these veterans have decided when they don’t get improvement from the standard treatments that some of them have gone out to take psychedelic medicines.

And I was approached by one such veteran, Marcus Capone, him and his wife, Amber. Marcus had been a Navy Seal for 13 years and suffered many traumatic brain injuries, and had PTSD once he got out. And he went down to Mexico, outside of the US, as a US soldier, outside of the US, down to a foreign country to receive a compound that is illegal in the US, a compound that he believes saved his life.

And when I met these folks, I heard the story. At first I was a little bit skeptical. But then once I heard Marcus’s story and other stories, I became convinced that this was something worth studying. So now I’m going to let you listen to Erick’s story, and you tell me what you think.

(Video) Erick: I don’t know exactly all the reasons why I’m not whole. I know a lot of the symptoms, like being a basically barely functioning alcoholic my entire life to the point of neglecting myself, neglecting my kids. It’s so bad that I have zero control over it. I haven’t gone a day without drinking in probably 10 years. This is my last chance. I want to be able to heal myself, so that I can be whole for my family.

NW: So, this is the study that we conducted at Stanford. Just like Erick, most of these folks had PTSD in addition to traumatic brain injury beforehand. But after, they had a significant reduction and crossed the line to no longer meet PTSD diagnosis after they received ibogaine.

Significant reductions in anxiety, 80-plus percent, significant reductions in depression. And remarkably, resolution of disability from traumatic brain injury. Something that we haven’t seen before. So now I’m going to let Erick tell you about that.

(Video) Erick: It’s been about seven months, and pretty much everything is different. A buddy of mine came by the house the other day. He had a drink with him, he drove there. “Hey, you want a drink?” “Nah, man, I’m good, I don’t drink anymore.” He’s like… “I’ll get you a drink.” I’m like, “No, I really don’t drink anymore.” He’s like, “Whatever, I’ll go get you a drink.” No, he didn’t believe me. I mean, we were standing there talking for probably 30 minutes. In that time before I would have smoked five cigarettes, you know.

And he was like, “Wait a minute, did you quit smoking, too?” I was like, “Yeah.” “What?” Everything has changed. It’s hard to tell somebody one weekend and everything’s different. Like some kind of magic pill or something, which it’s not. I mean, the real work started after the experience, but the experience gave me the tools to be able to do the work in the first place. There are so many people that could heal from this. There are so many people that would still be here. I have friends that would still be here. I have family that would still be here.

NW: So now, I’m going to let Erick describe the effect. What did he feel while he was under this compound? And what a lot of people will describe is that they go back and look through earlier-life memories, and they’re able to see these memories from a detached third-party perspective and look at them and see them and really re-assimilate them into meaning.

(Video) Erick: The visuals that I remember the most were like going through a photo album, but like a Rolodex and you flip it as fast as you can and everything goes by and it’s a blur. There’s clips out of my life. Like an outsider looking in. It allowed me to confront traumas that had much more of an impact on me than I realized. That was one of the biggest things I got from the weekend, is just that I need to stop poisoning myself. In every aspect possible.

NW: So just like citrus for scurvy, psychedelic plant medicines were initially seen as quite positive, and even the National Institute of Mental Health director in the mid ’60s thought that these were powerful, potentially powerful therapeutic tools and tools for understanding the brain-behavior relationships.

But unlike citrus for scurvy, psychedelic plant medicines, these plant medicines, were made illegal. Can you imagine how much longer it would have taken for us to be able to get citrus out if we made the orange illegal?

And so there’s hope. A small group of scientists in the early 2000s, including some in the audience, have been able to get these studies back up and running. Some of them all the way through to being evaluated or reevaluated by the FDA very soon. Ibogaine, we’re trying to get an investigational new drug application to the FDA right now.

Now am I telling you to go and run out and go to Mexico and take psychedelics? No. You need to wait until everything’s done, until the trials are done if they are to show us that these are positive.

However, what I am saying is that the data shouldn’t be evaluated by anti-fruiters. It shouldn’t be evaluated by believers either. It should be evaluated by open-minded people that are able to look at the data clear-minded, right? And what I’m also here to tell you is that these compounds sit on Schedule I. And what that means is that they’re on the same level of control as heroin. Right

It means that there’s no medicinal use and they have a high abuse liability. How many of you think that there was no medicinal help for Erick? How many thought that there was?

And so you can all sit here and think, in the 1750s, it would have been crazy to make the orange illegal. What will our grandchildren think about us? Right? And so we’re on this edge between institutional rejection and acceptance and the time, the clock is ticking. And I’m going to ask you, did we make the orange illegal? Only time will tell.

Thank you.

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If you’re ready to craft your own personal story, these resources will help make it more impactful!
Storytelling in Three Steps
Ten Fundamental Story Blocks
The Essential Literary Elements

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contact me to discuss your storytelling goals.

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Alexis Barton realizes that nothing good happens after 2 AM – Live at The Moth

Personal stories don’t have to be extraordinary or sensational to have impact. They can just as easily be what I think of as everyday profound. On one level, they’re simple tales from life, but under the surface there’s a deeper meaning. Often a realization of some kind or an aha moment. And when there’s a funny thread running through your narrative, all the better. Alexis Barton’s story told at The Moth is a prime example of storytelling that I call humor with heart.
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Most love stories end with a white dress. Mine begins with one.

While her story is unique, many of us have been in relationships that could have become long lasting, but over time they faded away, and in the end, we realized it was for the best. And that’s a factor to consider when crafting your own story. Think about what makes your story different, all yours, and how the theme can connect to a broad audience? 

The fact that Quinton already had a girlfriend, that was just a poetic obstacle that I had to overcome.

What became evident to me while listening to Alexis’ story was her mastery of language and humor. Consider her use of the phrase poetic obstacle and the word situationship. This is difficult for most storytellers to pull off unless they happen to be a professional writer, which she reveals at the end. That said, I invite you to try your hand at crafting a unique phrase or novel hybrid word.

Notice the early hints she offers as to her background and style with mention of “Southern girls love bows”, and “Southern girls love hair ribbons”. On their own, they provide the audience with a sense of how she looks, but they also serve as a bit of foreshadowing when she later says, “I’m Sandra Dee in my little ponytail and hair ribbon.” It’s a clever callback, taking us from the general to the specific.

I also appreciated the way in which she compared herself to her quasi-boyfriend and his date when they all crossed paths in Walmart at 2am. Rather than saying “they were obviously together” and “I was obviously alone”, she refers to the fact that, “they had couple snacks…and I had single-girl food”. While either approach works, the former is simply stating a fact, while her word choice connects to the audience in a common way, as we’ve all been shopping and noticed what was in someone else’s shopping cart.

Transcript

Most love stories end with a white dress. Mine begins with one. The white dress I wore for my high school graduation was above the knee and chic, backless, and it had a sweet little bow at the back because Southern girls love bows.

And when I wore it to my graduation, I had no idea that it might serve a second purpose as a wedding dress, or more accurately, a dress to elope in.

But about two and a half years later, I was a college student at UAB, and I was, “Go Blazers!” I was dangerously in love with an upperclassman who lived two floors above me in the dorm, and we’ll call him Quinton.

Quinton was gorgeous. Every girl on campus wanted Quinton. But he wanted me. The fact that Quinton already had a girlfriend, that was just a poetic obstacle that I had to overcome. And I did.

Quinton and I sealed our “situationship” with a kiss under a streetlight in the rain, and it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me.

Now, we didn’t actually go out; we sofa-sat. That’s what you did before Netflix and chill. And we talked about all kinds of things and eventually the talk turned to marriage. Now, between us, we had one job, and both of us were still on our parents’ health insurance, and so this seemed like a fantastic idea. And we didn’t want to burden our parents with paying for a wedding, so we thought, we’ll cut class, like the scholars we were, and run down to Jefferson County and elope. And I already had the perfect dress in my closet at home, so I snuck home to Bruton, Alabama, and grabbed my high school dress and snuck it back.

Now, we chickened out. We didn’t actually elope. The day came and went and I just couldn’t do it and he couldn’t either. And we were all right with that. We continued to see each other and we were happy. And, uh, one night when we weren’t sofa-sitting, I went to Walmart with my roommate at 2 AM. As one does. That’s the perfect time to go to Walmart. It’s the witching hour, like going to Waffle House at the same hour. And as one does, we were wearing what most people are wearing at 2 AM—pajamas.

I had on a matching pastel kind of top and bottom with a little Peter Pan collar and white Keds, and I had a ponytail and I had a hair ribbon because Southern girls love hair ribbons. And we went down to Walmart on Lakeshore. And we were going to get some snacks. And, uh, we went all over the store, and we got chips and dip and Coke and Lean Cuisine and Crystal Light. And we made our way to the frozen food aisle because we needed ice cream. And if you’ve been in that Walmart, you know how wide and long that aisle is.

And so we are on the Blue Bell end, because I’m a Blue Bell girl. And we are looking at the options. And at the other end, the opposite end of the aisle, there is a couple coming toward us. And I’m severely nearsighted, so I can only really see y’all. I can’t see what’s happening at the back. And so we’re making our way down, India, my roommate, and I. And the couple at the opposite end is slowly coming toward us. And the closer they come to us, I realize it’s Quinton. And he’s on a date. And the girl was cute. She had on her going-out top. And if you know what I mean by that. Uh, she had on some cute jeans and some cute shoes and her hair and makeup was flawless. And look at me. I’m Sandra Dee in my little ponytail and hair ribbon.

And I took it all in as they walked past me. And I looked in their buggy and they had couple snacks. They had chocolate-covered Oreos. They had strawberries. They had wine. They had cubed cheese and olives. And it was obvious that they were together. Mind you, he had never taken me out. And I had single-girl food in my buggy. I had Lean Cuisine and Crystal Light. And I realized then that I was a single woman and I had had no clue all along. And we kept moving, we never broke stride. We get to the end of the aisle and I ask India, “Did I see what I thought I saw?” And I was hoping she would say no, but she’s not that type of person. She said, “Yeah, girl, you saw it. Everybody saw it in Walmart.” And, uh, she took me home. And this is—this is the point where I’d like to say I gathered my dignity, but I didn’t. I called another friend to pick me up, and we shot out for his house. Because it was his term to face uncomfortable truths at an inconvenient time in front of an audience—his neighbors. And I let him have it. And I realized in the moment how afraid he was of me when I popped out of the shadows, and I realized, you know, girl, this is over. And so I left.

This story has a happy ending. Two happy endings, because Quinton married that girl, and they have a beautiful family. And I lived to tell this story here tonight, so we both won. And if there are any lessons from this, and there are three that I have—it has taken me several years to come to. It is: nothing good happens after 2 AM, just like your mother said. Never double-cross a writer because you will become material. And three: always wear your cute outfit when you go out, because you never know who you’re gonna see in Walmart.

Thank you.

Back to you…

What stood out to you? At what points did you connect to her story? Especially if there was a passage that described something you’ve never experienced, but it resonated with you at a higher level.

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If you’re ready to craft your own personal story, these resources will help make it more impactful!
Storytelling in Three Steps
Ten Fundamental Story Blocks
The Essential Literary Elements

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contact me to discuss your storytelling goals.

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