An unfortunate side-effect of Americans’ fascination with celebrity is their accompanying confusion of fame with competence. That inability to understand the difference–especially when it comes to political campaigns– is largely a result of widespread ignorance of the day-to-day grunt-work of governing.
John Sweezy, the long-ago (now deceased) Republican chairman of my county party used to say that every citizen should be required to serve two years in government, and prohibited from staying for more than four years. While I disagreed with his four-year edict, I completely understood the benefit of a two-year stint that would introduce citizens to the distinctly unglamorous realities involved.
I served as Corporation Counsel in Indianapolis for a bit over two years, many–many–years ago, and it was an education. I was disabused of the then-widespread notion that civil servants were largely folks who couldn’t find private sector jobs–my co-workers were some of the brightest and most hard-working people I’ve ever known. Most of all, I came to understand the realities of government service, along with the difficulties of weighing competing public interests.
In one of her recent Letters from an American, Heather Cox Richardson illuminated those lessons by recalling the efforts that averted a threatened Y2K calamity.
When programmers began their work with the first wave of commercial computers in the 1960s, computer memory was expensive, so they used a two-digit format for dates, using just the years in the century, rather than using the four digits that would be necessary otherwise—78, for example, rather than 1978. This worked fine until the century changed.
As the turn of the twenty-first century approached, computer engineers realized that computers might interpret 00 as 1900 rather than 2000 or fail to recognize it at all, causing programs that, by then, handled routine maintenance, safety checks, transportation, finance, and so on, to fail. According to scholar Olivia Bosch, governments recognized that government services, as well as security and the law, could be disrupted by the glitch. They knew that the public must have confidence that world systems would survive, and the United States and the United Kingdom, where at the time computers were more widespread than they were elsewhere, emphasized transparency about how governments, companies, and programmers were handling the problem. They backed the World Bank and the United Nations in their work to help developing countries fix their own Y2K issues.
Those of us who were adults in the run-up to the turn of the century still remember the dire warnings. Planes would fall out of the sky, computers would fail to work, the funds in your bank account would be inaccessible…on and on. Preachers of some religions predicted the end times.
None of that happened, not because the threat was unfounded, but because public servants worked for many months to correct the problem. As Richardson wrote,
In fact, the fix turned out to be simple—programmers developed updated systems that recognized a four-digit date—but implementing it meant that hardware and software had to be adjusted to become Y2K compliant, and they had to be ready by midnight on December 31, 1999. Technology teams worked for years, racing to meet the deadline at a cost that researchers estimate to have been $300–$600 billion. The head of the Federal Aviation Administration at the time, Jane Garvey, told NPR in 1998 that the air traffic control system had twenty-three million lines of code that had to be fixed.
Richardson followed her description of the problem and its solution with what I will label “the moral of the story.”
Crises get a lot of attention, but the quiet work of fixing them gets less. And if that work ends the crisis that got all the attention, the success itself makes people think there was never a crisis to begin with. In the aftermath of the Y2K problem, people began to treat it as a joke, but as technology forecaster Paul Saffo emphasized, “The Y2K crisis didn’t happen precisely because people started preparing for it over a decade in advance. And the general public who was busy stocking up on supplies and stuff just didn’t have a sense that the programmers were on the job.”
I don’t know how to make the majority of American voters understand that when they cast a ballot, they need to vote for someone with the skills or background to understand the job–someone who is competent to fix the sorts of problems governments encounter. When they vote for an entertainer, or culture warrior, or “outsider” who proudly claims to know nothing about politics or government, they get what they vote for–and governing suffers.
After all, most of us wouldn’t choose a doctor who’d never been to medical school…
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