First published in 2008, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins rocked the literary world. The dystopian, Roman-esque America that had completely fallen to despotism provided a compelling backdrop to the struggles of Katniss Everdeen, a teenager drafted to fight in the annual Hunger Games, a gladiator-style affair. Her victory places her in the unique position to overthrow their government—or at least, be used as a symbol by those staging a revolution.

But time and time again, Katniss Everdeen does not do what is expected of her. In the arena, she makes an alliance with a vulnerable young girl. As a victor, she chooses compassion. Even when she’s the symbol of the revolution, she’s never quite… controllable. She’s not the symbol they want, that’s for sure, but she’s the symbol the people chose, so they can’t exactly cast her off.

This flaw—or, depending on how you look at it, this superpower—became the reason the revolution succeeded.

So what was this superpower? Even when her entire world only saw teams, she always saw the individual. The scared little girl, instead of an enemy inside the arena. The individuals of her glam team, with their own emotions and interests, instead of faceless minions of the Capitol. The young man in front of her, injured and terrified, instead of the army wanting to kill her.

It is a very different perspective to see the world in terms of individuals instead of teams and policies. Let’s take a few examples from real-world politics.

Abortion has been a controversial issue for decades, painted in terms of good and evil by both sides. It has been the subject of protests, horror stories, and political campaigns. But for the most part, people are discussing it as a policy issue instead of an individual issue. Which isn’t to say that there isn’t a policy element to this issue, but that policy is just one perspective to hold on the issue. What happens when you look at the issue from an individualistic perspective? What about that one individual baby who dies as a result of the abortion? The life they don’t get to experience, the people they’ll never know and love and bless—isn’t that sad? What about the woman choosing an abortion? The pressure she’s feeling from everyone around her to make a decision this way or that way, the father who is uninterested or uninvolved, the sheer overwhelm of this sudden development, the plans and dreams she had for the future that have been dramatically taken away—isn’t that sad?

Immigration has likewise been a hot-button topic. On the surface, it’s simple. We can have an open border and let all these people through, or we can shut the border and kick them all out. But what about the migrant threatened with deportation, who made a treacherous journey to come, was promised aid if he did come, and now is working to make a better life for himself and his family—isn’t that sad? What about the citizen, living and working and paying taxes, also wanting to make a better life for himself and his family, but feeling out of place in his own country—isn’t that sad?

As a third and final example, what about LGBTQ issues? This is another one that’s so easy to draw lines and teams on. What about the parent who is concerned with the content their children are learning in school, worried their young child will make irreversible decisions and regret it later on? What about the teenager, feeling lost and alone, hating themselves and feeling out of place in their own body, in their own mind?

Perhaps seeing individuals is a weakness. It certainly adds a level of complexity to the issues at hand. At the very least, it’s hard to see everything as black and white, and in a world that rewards thirty second or even five second sound bites, instant answers, and being a part of the political ‘in crowd,’ it’s certainly tempting to see everything in terms of teams. This is my team, get out. This is my team, this is what we’re doing. This is my team, and we’re going to win at any cost. So stay out of my way.

Because of this perspective, Katniss befriended the little girl—an alliance that made no sense strategically in a game where only the strongest survived. 

Because of this, she saved the lives of her glam team—people who had dressed her for death and reveled in the arena’s spectacle.

Because of this, she petitioned for peace and offered a future to the young man—and got shot on live television.

And because of this, Katniss was able not just to win the revolution, but to end it, instead of the revolution becoming a perpetual, revenge-fueled, and (metaphorically speaking) guillotine-wielding war.

Maybe it is a weakness, but it’s also a superpower. Some of the most amazing world-shifting solutions are found in the nuance of problems. Every problem is an opportunity for a creative solution.

That is one of the roles of the servant leader: to see the problem, to see what’s actually happening instead of the lines being drawn and teams being formed, and to find creative solutions that will solve the problem while moving freedom forward.

And in a world, in a nation, that’s only becoming more divisive, that’s getting pulled tauter and tauter, that’s waiting for a spark or a trigger or a slip up, the perfect moment when everything will explode, creative and individually-minded solutions might be one of the only things that could save us.

So as we move forward to the climax of what has been a most… interesting election, let’s keep that in mind. I challenge you to fight for what is right, fight for what you believe in, but don’t get dragged into the obsession with teams. See the individual. Have compassion. Be a servant leader. And look for those creative solutions that could change the world.