Why I Misunderstood So Many Public Leaders

Failing to appreciate that I spoke Greek and they spoke Latin

I was drawn into public service by the big ideas. In my high-school and early-college days—yes, I admit—I also liked following political races and reading about historical events and learning about public officials’ backgrounds. But what really got me and never let go were the ideas behind governing.

I loved reading and thinking about the consequences of liberty, democracy, markets, pluralism, legislatures, executive orders, regional traditions, the mayor-form of local governments, the parliamentary form of national governments, and on and on. Over time, by identifying the concepts that seemed right and understanding how they fit together, I developed an ideology. This is why I’m a conservative. I have an interlocking set of views about human nature, reason, virtue, duty, freedom, tradition, self-government, and the distribution of power that place me on the right of the American political spectrum.

And until I had enough experience in governing, I understood virtually all issues first and foremost as examples of big ideas in action.

Conceptual Governing

As a young adult, I saw the GOP-controlled Congress fighting to limit federal power and spending. I saw Governors like Michigan’s Engler and Wisconsin’s Thompson fighting for federalism and localism. I saw school choice advocates fighting for pluralism and market forces. Whether it was these issues or others related to housing, drugs, gambling, or labor, I understood the debate as one of clashing principles.

I brought this mindset into my early career. When I was a very young legislative aide for the Maryland General Assembly, I looked at every issue I worked on through this lens. I remember bristling when the state’s then-secretary of transportation gave a speech asking for “resource enhancements” for his department. “A-ha!” I thought, “That’s code for more taxes and spending!” I then got a job on Capitol Hill where I staffed my member on everything from the No Child Left Behind Act (a debate about state vs. federal power!) to elements of the Patriot Act (a debate between security and liberty!).

“This governing stuff is easy!” thought the 23-year-old Andy. “As long as I know my principles, I can go toe-to-toe with anyone on policy and public leadership!”

But then something happened.

Bonds, Dredging, and Midwifery

It started when I was working for the state legislature. A bunch of the issues I was covering didn’t map neatly onto the ideological framework I’d developed. A county in my then-members’ district was considering issuing bonds to rehabilitate an old municipal stadium. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers was considering placing the materials collected from a dredging project in a deep-water site near the shore of my next member’s district. Later, a constituent had very strong views on the state’s midwifery policies.

The first problem I ran into was that I didn’t have any priors going into these issues. Which right-of-center principles should I apply to dredge spoils and the rules governing midwives?!?!?

The second problem was even bigger. Profound even for an aspiring public servant. Often, the public leaders working on such issues talked about them in completely non-ideological terms. They’d discuss debt loads and submerged aquatic vegetation. They’d talk about the events, including previous policy interventions, that led to current conditions. They’d talk about what local businesses needed or the priorities of the organized opposition. They’d talk about budgets and process.

And this is where I began to err.

We All Speak Greek, Right?

Because I thought in terms of governing principles and political ideology, I assumed that everyone did. When they didn’t talk the way I expected, I sometimes assumed they were hiding the ball. I thought they were purposely disguising their ideology.

But in fact, they were informed by practice—experience with the task not the concepts surrounding the task. So they thought and talked in terms of practice. It’s not that they were trying to obfuscate their intentions about government spending or federalism or originalism or subsidiarity (i.e., principles that guided me). They just didn’t approach their jobs in that way. I kept trying to translate their plans and motives into my language. But that, I eventually realized, distorted what they were thinking.

I was finally able to begin seeing this clearly in the late 2000s and early 2010s. Because of my work on Capitol Hill, my experience at the White House and U.S. Department of Education, and then my jobs at the state level, I started to appreciate that political observers and policy people often didn’t understand what school- and district-based leaders were thinking, saying, and doing. And vice versa. When the two sides disagreed, we thought they opposed our principles, and they thought we opposed their practical wisdom. We thought the issue was about accountability, parental rights, competition, transparency, federalism; they thought it was about teacher-student relationships, personalized instruction, civil service rules, school calendars.

The governing-principles people were thinking about the climate and speaking Greek, and the practitioners were thinking about the weather and speaking Latin.

This problem can be seen across the governing world. Some examples:

• A libertarian sees things in terms of personal freedom. A local practitioner in public health dealing with a communicable disease is thinking about morbidity rates, modes or transmission, hospital beds, and clinic hours. The former says the latter doesn’t care about liberty; the latter says the former doesn’t care about health outcomes.

• A Marxist see things in terms of class struggle. The executive director of a town’s business-development office is thinking about corporate tax rates, property assessments, infrastructure needs, and the community college’s course offerings. The former says the latter doesn’t care about the plight of workers; the latter says the former doesn’t care about jobs.

• A critical theorist sees things in terms of institutional oppression of the disadvantaged. A school principal dealing with a spike in unruly student behavior is thinking about monitoring halls and bathrooms, provisions of the union contract, the capacity for in-school suspensions, tutoring in the library, tonight’s basketball game, and next week’s state assessment. The former says the latter doesn’t care about racial profiling; the latter says the former doesn’t care about safe schools.

You can easily create similar scenarios with a press-freedom maximalist and national-security practitioner dealing with a leak; an environmentalist and the manager of a coal mine in a struggling town; a gun-rights advocate and a police chief dealing with a spike in drug-related violence.

Learn a Second Language

I’m not saying that all government administrators or all state and local officials are ideology-free actors. Yes, some people go into those jobs precisely because they want to put government muscle behind their abstractions. My point is that many more of these public leaders are much more practice-oriented than principles-oriented observers believe.

So (if you’re the big-ideas type) when you find yourself objecting to the decisions of an agriculture official, a schools superintendent, a college president, or a public-works director, don’t immediately ascribe it to a philosophical disagreement. There’s a good chance they don’t see the issue at hand as a matter of abstract principles. They probably see it as a matter of practical wisdom.

And, perhaps most importantly, remember that the best way to influence an experienced practitioner is NOT by yelling your principles at him louder. It’s by thinking and speaking in the language of practice.