Rebuild the Dream (4 page)

MY FIRST DAY AT THE WHITE HOUSE
complex consisted of a whirlwind of paperwork. I took the oath and met my new colleagues. I quickly realized that I was in a different world.

I asked one of my new co-workers, “What is your role here?”

“Oceans,” he said casually.

I was baffled. “Oceans” sounded like the acronym for a government program, but which one was it? The federal government has so many departments and agencies. I had been studying the charts, but it was nearly impossible to learn them all. I decided that I was not going to pretend to know things that I didn't know. I would just have to ask a lot of dumb questions up front, to get them out of the way.

“I'm sorry,” I confessed, cheerfully. “I have never heard of OCEANS. What is that?”

He looked at me quizzically and blinked. “What do you mean, you've never heard of them?”

Them? Now I was even more confused. Was OCEANS a special team of people? A White House task force?

“I'm sorry. I really haven't heard of them,” I admitted, feeling increasingly awkward. “Who are they, again?”

“Um, oceans? Like, seas? Big bodies of water?” he said. “I coordinate all the administration's policies that impact the world's oceans.” Then he repeated the word, slowly. “Oceans.”

I laughed. “Oh, right. Got it! I guess somebody's gotta do that, right?” As he walked away, I called out after him, “Congratulations!”

Despite embarrassing episodes like that, I stuck to my policy of asking “dumb questions” early. I wanted to learn fast so that I could perform well. I found that the human brain is incredibly adaptive: within weeks, I was speaking federal-ese like I had been in Washington for decades.

PEOPLE ALWAYS WANT TO KNOW
about a particular staffer's level of access to the president. As for me, I was only in the same room with Obama a handful of times. The people above me—Nancy Sutley and Carol Browner—interfaced with him and the chief of staff regularly. That was not my job. My first assignment was to co-lead the interagency process that oversaw $80 billion in green recovery spending.

I had sufficient authority and support to get the job done, without going “upstairs.” Given the nature of my duties, I did not need to climb up into the Oval Office. I needed to drill down into the departments and agencies, to help them carry out the big guy's agenda. The $80 billion, which was a part of the $787 billion stimulus package the president signed into law within weeks of his inauguration, was not all in one place. It was spread out throughout nearly a dozen departments and agencies, including the Department of Energy, the Environmental Protection Agency, and Housing and Urban Development.

To oversee it, I helped lead an “interagency process,” made up of representatives from all of the impacted agencies. We met regularly to share information and help coordinate programs where possible.
At the same time, I set about building up my own team of experienced civil servants to work with me directly. I had them sent over to CEQ “on detail” from various agencies or departments so we could work together full time.

The team around a White House staffer works best as a true partnership. The detailees understand the structure, personnel, constraints, and opportunities in the departments or agencies from which they hail. The White House staffer has some understanding of the administration's priorities and concerns. Together they can get the bureaucracy to respond more efficiently.

In getting my job done, I had one secret weapon: I called them “the elves.” I had quickly discovered that hundreds of young people from the campaign trail had wound up in minor, low-level posts and assistants' jobs throughout the administration. They all knew each other, they all talked to each other, and they helped each other to get things done. Many times, the fastest way to get information was to simply ask an unassuming intern or an assistant, who could then activate the network of elves.

It turned out that many of the most influential people inside the federal government are never on television. They are the secretaries, interns, and executive assistants. They are the cooks and even security guards. They overhear everything and understand what is really going on. Many have been serving quietly for years. A few experienced workers reached out to me, gently showing me the ropes so that I could avoid mistakes and have greater impact. By befriending the elves and longtime staffers, I accelerated my learning curve and became more effective.

THE WHITE HOUSE IS THE MOST
stimulating intellectual environment imaginable; a staffer is literally learning something or deciding something every minute of every day. Every visitor—whether
a critic or supporter of the president—brings her “A” game to the conversation; she sees the meeting as mission critical and uses every persuasive tool at her or his disposal to get the outcome he or she is seeking. It is like being in the world's most demanding PhD program, twenty-four hours a day.

And keep in mind that an hour in the White House seems like a day. A day seems like a week. A week seems like a lifetime. My superiors, in particular, were sticklers for detail who insisted that everything be done to the highest possible standards. I was being pushed as never before but meeting sky-high expectations created a sense of pride and unity throughout the team.

Obama White House staffers met with people on all sides of the major issues. We were determined to get a comprehensive view of every problem before making any recommendations that might find their way to the Oval Office. Inclusion and fairness was a pervasive ethic during my time in the Obama White House.

FOR EXAMPLE
, as the administration was gearing up for our big push to win clean energy legislation, I sat through a somewhat tense meeting with representatives from the coal industry. After the session was over, one exasperated owner of a small mine pulled me to the side. He said, “We have followed every rule and regulation that has been handed down—to the letter. We are spending our money on lawyers so we can follow the law. But back home, everyone is saying Obama just wants to shut us down, no matter what we do. Tell me, now: Is that true?”

He leaned in, searching my eyes. “Are you going to put me and my family out of business? If so, don't play around with us. We just need to know. I've got to tell my wife something; she can't sleep. Her ulcers are kicking up, again. I came all this way just to get a simple
answer. Do you think what we are doing is wrong—to the point where you are trying to take everything away from us? We can handle the truth—but all the games and guessing, that's what's killing us.”

For the first time, I fully realized the degree to which all our talk about “change” and “green jobs”—which had intrigued and inspired so many—was terrifying to some. Our guest feared that our vision of a clean energy future excluded him and his family.

Of course, President Obama had no intention of closing America's coal mines. Renewable sources such as solar, wind, and hydro electricity make up less than 2 percent of our nation's energy portfolio today. In the U.S. Senate, Obama had represented Illinois, a big coal-burning state. The president was looking for better ways to burn coal; the administration had no plans or desire to eliminate it. He had dedicated billions of dollars in stimulus funds to the search for “clean coal” technology.

I didn't know this mine owner's particular circumstances, so I had to keep my comments general. But I tried to reassure him by telling him the simple truth. “America is going to be burning coal for a very long time,” I said. “Your family is helping other American families to keep their lights on, every day, all across this country. We aren't going to turn the lights out on coal any time soon.”

The mine owner looked relieved. He offered me his hard, calloused hand, which I clasped. He looked me squarely in the eyes, and he gave my arm one strong pump. Then he was gone.

One of my co-workers overheard the exchange. She knew I was personally no fan of “clean coal.” She also knew I was heartsick about Big Coal blasting off mountaintops to get more black rock. I was outspoken on such issues.

But as White House officials, we were not there just to push our own agendas. When citizens arrive to petition their government for redress, a White House staffer has a duty to treat them all
with equal respect. A staffer must never forget that the commander-in-chief is the president of every American, even those who oppose his policies. Most importantly, staffers are there to represent the president, not themselves.

Facing a spokesman for an industry that I had battled for years, I tried my best to live up to that high standard.

As our visitor left, my fellow staffer gave me a knowing smile.

“Welcome to the White House,” she said.

AS I SETTLED INTO THE NEW ROLE
, I began to see more opportunities to make a lasting impact. “I have an idea,” I told my team. “In about eight years, the president will give his last speech. I want us to write that speech—right now.”

My colleagues shuffled a bit, uneasily. I knew what they were thinking. It was not our job to write speeches for the president. We were policy people, not political people. Besides, White House staffers can barely plan a month in advance. Few White House staffers lasted even four years, let alone eight. It made little sense for us to be talking about 2016. My subordinates exchanged glances, wondering who was going have the guts to give the rookie a reality check.

I smiled. I had gotten their attention.

“In his final speech, the president should be able to stand up and say four words—only.” I counted each word on my fingers. “Before. After. Thank you.”