FORWARD

by Andrew Yang

Some commentators are quick to lay complete blame for these institutional failures on Donald Trump’s shoddy leadership. While it’s hard to imagine a president doing a worse job than Trump of leading the country through the crisis, if you examine closely the CDC’s missteps, you’ll find that they were serious, operational, and at multiple stages—the kinds of failures that happen in the lab or office. These weren’t political failures so much as an organization being asked to do things that it theoretically existed to do but didn’t have the actual experience or muscle memory to execute urgently in real time.

“How will we train Americans for the jobs of the future?” or “How will we overcome polarization and bring Americans together?” I’ve been asked these questions innumerable times over the past several years. The honest answers are “We probably won’t. It will almost certainly get worse.” I then talk bravely about the caring economy, vocational programs, changing the language of politics, or circumscribing social media. But none of those things will actually happen. By talking about them as if they were possible, I’m giving people a mistaken sense of reassurance. We have become a whole network of people bullshitting each other into believing that smart people are thinking about it and good things are happening that will address the problems. And then we all just go back to whatever we were doing. Government is largely about this kind of theater.

As a politician you’re like a totem or shaman. You show up to a gathering or charity event to speechify and elevate the proceeding: “Thank you for the incredible work that you’re doing. It’s so important.” Which it is, of course. Though it would be if you didn’t show up too. You are meant to embody the concerns of the community. You listen patiently to all. You are present. If someone asks you a question, you answer it reassuringly. You express values and aspirations. You are a human security blanket, and your job is to make people feel better. You make false promises regularly or lay claim to powers you do not have. “Together we can ensure that every child has the kind of opportunity that they deserve in our community.” “If we come together, there’s no limit to what we can accomplish.” “If we listen to each other, we can create a bright future for all.” You are all about the singing of brighter horizons.

Perhaps the biggest example of this magical thinking is the political conversation around retraining workers, often expressed, absurdly, as “teaching people to code.” The actual success of government-funded retraining programs has been found to be near zero in a majority of cases, with many workers simply holding valueless certificates afterward. Has the politician ever tried coding before? Have they tried to retrain a thousand former manufacturing and retail workers? Would they hire those thousand people if they needed a thousand coders? How about a hundred thousand? We accept ridiculous statements on their face because we have grown to regard them less as real actions or policy statements and more as simply value statements and political representations of the world as you wish it to be. The country has lost more than four million manufacturing jobs since 2000, devastating hundreds of once-thriving communities in the Midwest and the South. That’s fine; if ten politicians stand in a circle holding hands and chant in unison, “You’ll like to code, heed this refrain, despair not, you shall retrain,” those millions of workers shall all move to Seattle and become Amazon Web Services technicians.

I was nominally the founder and CEO, but I had myriad stakeholders whom I was beholden to: staff, donors, volunteers, the young aspiring entrepreneurs who had put their careers in our hands, companies who were employing our fellows, our board of directors, foundations, corporate partners, and on and on. So many people were working or donating because they believed in the mission of the organization, and my job was to continually present a vision that would galvanize people. They don’t work for you so much as you work for them. That’s closer to government leadership; you have to continuously build consensus among supporters and stakeholders. You set a vision and hope others will build toward it. You should be establishing trust and communicating as much as possible. You do not have the ability to fire legislators or judges or journalists or those who disagree with you, and their interests could be in direct opposition to yours. Instead of commanding, often you have to pick your opportunities and try to get done as much as you can within a preexisting framework.

I just about jumped for joy. The relief bill announced on December 18 would include $600 for every adult and child in the country. I ran to find Evelyn to tell her: “This is the greatest accomplishment of my career. I think we helped get $160 billion in cash relief out to tens of millions of families during the toughest winter in American history.” I couldn’t get over the number. You could work for a million lifetimes and never make that much money or have that kind of impact. Given what we had spent on our lobbying efforts, it was a return of 100,000,000 percent for those who had donated to Humanity Forward.