[Occasionally I’m asked to speak to recent grads headed into federal government jobs or more experienced professionals in other fields newly focused on a policymaking career change. Most recently the audiences are mainly interested in roles relevant to emerging tech and AI. But this advice is applicable broadly, mostly focused at the entry-level folks.]
Who are you?
You’re a super-smart college grad, incredible GPA, Math Olympiad, pride of your town, senior thesis on the “Counter-Straussian Revolution in Post-Soviet Cossack Literature.” All good. But you chose this option, which you had to put in some effort into getting. You could’ve followed your junior year suitemate to that hedge fund (ed. there’s still time), or more likely that CS/Philosophy double major with a six-figure signing bonus at OpenAI.
or…
A mid-career private sector rising star from a startup or other tech company. Maybe you’ve got some signature wins as a product management team leader or successes at early-stage startups. You’ve got on-the-ground experience in and around building of the very technologies Congress is trying to understand, in particular the incentives facing funders and founders.
Who am I?
I worked in a senior staff role for several years in Congress and the White House with a broad portfolio at both. Before and after my work in numerous think tanks and lobbying roles required a lot of contact and close collaboration with many of the same types as current/former government colleagues.
My proprietary advice
Don’t assume rules where they don’t exist
The only person that matters is your boss. It could be an LD, a Special Assistant, Chief of Staff, Congressman, or (Acting) Principal Deputy Assistant for Agricultural Whatever. Whatever person is designated as your immediate “boss,” that’s the only real constituent. Whenever you’re contemplating an action or an idea, they’re the only sign off you need.
Sure, sure, “everyone works on behalf of the [President/Congressman/the People]” but I’m telling you in terms of your actual job, not in conceptual toe-standing—the literal tasks as opposed to figurative poetic objectives, only a few of you will actually report to that person.
Why does that matter?
Because there’s no rules! Especially in Congress but even in much of an Administration (except at the very highest levels) particularly “politicals,” almost none of it is subject to hard rules agreed upon by everyone. In Congress, your office or committee may have a written job description (more often not) but that only applies internally. No other office is obligated to listen to or acknowledge you just because you’ve been designated “the office expert on technology issues.”
The incentives for others to pay attention are political1:
you happen to be in an office or committee important to them
they anticipate needing a favor from you
they want to avoid the appearance of a brushback leading to your bosses getting involved2
The flipside though, no other office can stop you from doing pretty much anything.
I’ve seen an extremely junior staffer successfully convene the top people on an important subject from across the institution (almost all more “senior”), facilitate a consensus, and push the policy forward. Why would they show up? Because he invited them, and designated the effort with an official-sounding name, and by implication himself as the leader. There is no officialness-granting body.3
In Congress, leaderships have some affirmative control, mostly on what gets to the floor for the final, final steps. Anything prior go wild.4
In agencies, Cabinet-level officials could direct you to halt, but they won’t really care unless it’s getting close to the actionable stage or becomes publicly embarrassing, and even then if it presents as consistent with the Administration’s priorities they’ll be appreciative.
If you can assemble who you think are the essential parties (by expertise, experience, or plain where they’re sit), present as credible and somewhat knowledgeable, and most of all leave an impression of not wasting people’s time, no one will care what your title is.5 And in the best cases, even those skeptical or annoyed by your assumed agency will come on board if it appears you’ve assembled a non-trivial coalitional mass.
But make sure your immediate supervisor is on board, or more likely indifferent/unconcerned. Doing that depends on the personality and specific relationship.
Where I Went Wrong
It’s so easy to assume everything you’re about to do in an organizational or structural sense has been done before. Surely something as important as [X]: has been addressed before/there’s a group of smart people already tackling it/isn’t handled in the way I assume? Often, no. The federal government seems so old and rigid I assumed procedures and formalities existed for everything. And they do for much it—the actual voting and objecting, and publication of a regulation, and….but not how words are put together into a draft bill or regulation. That’s open-ended and I missed many opportunities not wanting to figuratively step into a room and be told “we’re handling it.”
Then one time musing aloud to my Staff Director (i.e., my one actual boss) about “why isn’t there blah blah blah…” to which he laconically replied “do it yourself.” To be clear, he wasn’t giving me permission. He was perplexed I wasn’t able to answer my own question. From then on, I felt free to act independently, only hesitating if I really thought it would cause a headache for him (it never did).
Don’t assume knowledge where it isn’t (yet)
Intertwined with the above, some people by temperament concede too much to fear of looking dumb. I am, well was, one of them. Especially early on, it’s natural to believe other know more than you. They probably do! Yet most people don’t actually care what you don’t know, as long as you don’t present otherwise. Avoid overreliance on it, but simply saying “I’m not sure that means” does up to three things: (1) hopefully prompts the answer therefore increasing your knowledge; (2) puts others in a position to demonstrate expertise, which everyone loves; and (3) characterizes you as humble and transparent in contrast to a performative douche.
No one knows everything, and very few people can internalize disparate and arcane ideas into a cohesive whole. You may not possess all the details, but putting it all together is what makes you more valuable.
Though maybe you really are the foremost expert. No need to go full country dumb but no one likes a know-it-all.6 And you’d be surprised the number of situations where the most demonstrably knowledgeable person in the room is not nearly the most valuable. All of this [*gestures wildly*] is about marrying important issues with informed input and multiplied by the political ability to get others to go along. Interject your wisdom when it’s clearly relevant, or ought to be. Trust me but for a small few, people will quickly read that someone knows what they’re talking about.
Where I Went Wrong
Coming only slowly to this insight I missed scores of opportunities to catch up to the room, and therefore effectively apply the skills I do have. Unfortunately the older you are the easier it is to employ the kind of modesty this requires - the folly of youth is hard to overcome.
If you are more experienced and established, lean on your personal security and know you are already fairly defined.
If you are young, use that to your advantage. Nobody really expects you to know all the ins-and-outs of jargony legal speak and the intentionally arcane procedures of interagency deliberation. No one will think twice if you don’t know the practical limits of Senate Rule XIV or can’t off-hand remember the shortest submission-to-public display window for an expedited Federal Register publication.
Staying quiet bit in two ways. I also couldn’t as easily identify who (else) was the expert in the room.
Caution: there’s a calibration necessary here. Humility is never a bad look, but in any repeat game you want to demonstrate credibility. A habitual pattern of not knowing things eventually makes you out as someone of little value. Whatever station you’re at, go hard on this aspect early. The first month or so is like wearing an immunity cloak. This applies to names too: when someone wraps up a negotiation saying “I think we’ve got enough for an answer here, I’ll go run it by Jim Stansel,” ask who that is!
Even things where I was in fact the most expert, insecurity convinced me there was still some element I may get wrong and I’ll get corrected. Who cares? Avoid being the “well, actually” person and it’s fine. No one’s thinking about you as much as you’re thinking about you. The payoff will be positive.
Don’t take it personal
Less an issue for me, but saw it all the time. Someone disagreeing with you is not a personal attack. Someone failing to recognize your insight is not a personal attack. An empirical (or political) truth not in your favor is not a personal attack.
Almost tautological and yet so many people fall victim.
Passionate advocacy and diligent work are fully separable emotional internalization. No one is saying no because they don’t like you - or if they are, they’re doing a bad job, so there’s that.
I’d say a good strategy is be kind to everyone, which I believe, and it makes me a hypocrite. Most former colleagues would describe my professional demeanor as somewhere between “curt” and “a total dick.” The same former colleagues that to this day make up our incredibly close friend group, or were willing to put into writing the highest ratings on evaluations. Because the second-most likely descriptors would be “credible,” “straightforward”, "or “operates in good faith.” My version of kindness showed up as being reliable, scrupulous, and having a reputation of fairness.7
Meh, that can be costly. If you can just go with nice.
I mean beyond just normal socialization, friend type stuff.
For example, a real occurrence I used to deal with: after a few tries, a staffer has to answer the question “why haven’t you made any progress on that thing?” to which they reply “I’ve reached out to [name] several times and they won’t get back to me.” Then some Chief of Staff is calling a Staff Director and no one’s happy about it.
Caucuses, or standing lunches are official sounding institutions that staff can just make up. The Senate has a longstanding “LD Lunch” that everyone pretty much treats as a thing that’s always existed in a sanctioned way. It was just started by a staff one day. I may still be the Executive Director of the Senate Regs Caucus, a thing I made up but had Senators who stated publicly they were members of. The House does have some sanctioning process for Caucuses, but there are staff-incepted ones there too. In the Exec, working groups for particular subject matters, for example, are very attractive to attend. The key is making it worthwhile and consistency.
Caveat: alienating leadership/floor (or really any) staff isn’t costless—it shows up in future cooperation, but it is not direct prohibition on your freedom to operate. Done well you can maintain productive essential relationships without preventing you from doing what you want.
I got this advice one point in the Administration role: establish a reputation as the most competent one in the room. This was a situation where there would be frequent and ongoing deliberations with an overlapping set of largely the same people. This meant impressions from one thing would carry over to the next. And by competent, they didn’t mean smart or assertive for your goal, but simply knowledgeable in the areas presumed your specialty such any honest question voluntarily comes your way. Further no need to push into something you don’t feel strongly about, but be meat in the room in support of your allies who’ll do the same when you need it.
It’s a bit of an advanced technique, recommended only in specific circumstances, but I did eventually much enjoy doing the country dumb thing as a way to elicit information from people.
When negotiating with someone who did take things personally, my personality being what it is not helping and leading to a contretemps, on the other side of things in pretty much every case they would give a ring or share a beer to establish it’s all good.