Ode to the Public Servant
Public service rarely makes headlines for the right reasons. And yet, it is often the quiet, consistent work of federal employees that keeps the country not only running, but thriving. I was reminded of this while reading Who Is Government?: The Untold Story of Public Service, Michael Lewis’s latest collection of essays. Through deeply reported, personal profiles, Lewis and others illuminate the lives and work of the people who form the backbone of our government—the hydrologists tracking droughts, the epidemiologists analyzing outbreaks, the food safety inspectors protecting our meals, and the immigration officers shepherding families through complex bureaucracies.
It is a moving portrait of government not as a faceless entity, but as a community of experts, analysts, and administrators, many of whom dedicate their careers to public service for reasons that are not easily captured in a job description. They are driven by a sense of responsibility, by the belief that their work can make life safer, healthier, more just, or more humane for others.
That belief is one I grew up around. My mother spent her career as a public servant, working for the United States Immigration and Naturalization Service before it became part of the Department of Homeland Security. She never sought recognition for her work, but I saw the care and commitment she brought to it every day. Her example shaped how I think about vocation, not just as a career path, but as a way of contributing quietly and purposefully to the world around you.
In this current political climate, it feels especially important to name and honor that kind of contribution. As we all know, the Trump Administration’s newly formed Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) is now undertaking sweeping cuts across the federal workforce. These cuts are being presented as a way to trim bureaucracy, but in many cases, they strip agencies of critical expertise and undermine the ability of public servants to do their jobs well. These actions are also unfolding in a manner which is not only careless, but often cruel.
When we lose scientists in federal labs, we slow down our response to environmental crises. When we eliminate inspectors in transportation or agriculture, we increase risk across our communities. When we dismiss the work of government employees as bloated or unnecessary, we ignore the fact that their work directly touches nearly every part of our lives, from clean water and safe air to public education and fair labor enforcement.
As a school leader, I often think about what it means to serve well. We talk about integrity, about using one’s talents for something greater than personal gain. That is what public servants do every day. They embody a kind of quiet patriotism that is too often overlooked, but absolutely essential.
So this is a small acknowledgment, a thank-you, to the people who have shown up for the public, and to those who still do, if only for a little while longer. To the meteorologist issuing early warnings. To the civil rights lawyer monitoring access to the ballot box. To the data analyst studying patterns of fraud. To the grant officer supporting rural hospitals. To the immigration case worker, like my mother, ensuring that each person is treated with dignity.
This is also a call to remember that efficiency is not the highest good in public life. Sometimes the most important work is slow, complex, and profoundly human. And sometimes the measure of a nation is not how much money or time it saves, but how many lives it saves, both in body and in spirit. The track record of the past two months suggests we will be saving far less on any of these fronts over the next four years.