By Yuval Levin
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
The rapid spread of the COVID-19 coronavirus is, among
many other things, a test of America’s system of government. In particular, a
crisis like this challenges the federal executive. Decision, activity, and
dispatch are the watchwords of the presidency, as Alexander Hamilton argued in Federalist
No. 70: The Congress sets frameworks for the future action of the government,
the judiciary reviews and assesses past actions, but the president acts in the
present, and in response to events.
So how is the executive branch doing in responding to the
crisis? The easy answer is that it seems to be struggling and overwhelmed. But
it is worth thinking through just what ought to seriously trouble us about the
failures of mobilization against the pandemic so far, and what would be better
understood as an unavoidable consequence of the sheer immensity of the
problem—which, after all, the president didn’t cause.
Disaster response confronts modern, liberal societies
with a profound challenge. On the one hand, the core promise of Enlightenment,
liberal civilization is that it will build systems—scientific, technological,
and political—that will protect us from the ravages of nature and keep us safe,
healthy, and prosperous. When nature threatens to overwhelm our defenses, we
expect and demand that these systems will mobilize to respond. However immense
and unexpected the danger, we treat failures to answer it swiftly and
effectively as instances of gross incompetence.
On the other hand, the same liberal framework also
promises us a great deal of personal freedom. And that sort of freedom requires
constraints on what government can do to us, and even for us. To foster an
environment friendly to liberty, competition, and dynamism, government will, we
expect, mostly enforce uniform rules, address unmet needs, and let a hundred
flowers bloom.
But a government friendly to freedom in these ways will
have real trouble responding to massive, unexpected dangers on our behalf. It
won’t be able to instantly mobilize so as to flawlessly evacuate millions from
the path of a terrible storm or to swiftly rescue earthquake victims, or to
stop an aggressive pandemic in its tracks. We wouldn’t really want a government
that could do all that at the drop of a hat—after all, what would that
government do with all that power the rest of the time? The callous brutality
of China’s regime offers a clue. And China’s own bungled early response to
COVID-19 suggests that even a government with the capacity for instant mobilization
will have a hard time with many unforeseen crises because it will tend to be
rigid, dishonest, and impervious to bad news.
What we should want, therefore, is a government that may
be overwhelmed by a vast, unforeseen problem at first but will then be able to
quickly mobilize, learn from mistakes as it goes, and in relatively little time
work itself toward massive and effective action. Such a government could
capitalize on the advantages of freedom to deliver on the promise of keeping us
safe. This is a lot to ask, but it has been the general pattern of successful
American government responses to crises—be they wars, economic calamities, or
natural disasters.
This is the standard against which to measure our
response now. That our lives are disrupted is not a failure of government. That
it takes time to gear up is not the president’s fault. The question to ask is
not what our very way of life prevents us from doing, but what we should be
good at that we aren’t doing well.
It is nearly impossible to achieve the perspective
necessary to focus on this question early in the effort to mobilize, when
everything seems to be going wrong. In any response to a major unanticipated
crisis, good choices will mean trouble averted (and so will be hard to notice),
while bad choices will create bottlenecks in the way of mobilization and so
will draw intense attention and criticism. Mistakes that were far from obvious
in the moment can soon look like wild and inexplicable misjudgments. The
question isn’t whether such bottleneck errors will arise; they always do. The
question is how our government responds to them and how it then prepares for
foreseeable further problems.
In the case of the COVID-19 pandemic, the early
bottleneck error has clearly been the approach of the Centers for Disease
Control and Prevention to testing for the virus. It is easy now to say that
this should have been obvious, but it was no more obvious than the many other
judgments that public-health officials made as the virus sprinted across the
globe. It was an error, and the government’s response to it could have been more
swift and flexible. It is only now being made right—late, but still, it seems,
effectively. The question we face is whether some lessons have been drawn that
might inform the way key officials make decisions about the next difficult
phase of the outbreak. Some of these lessons would have to be drawn at a
systemic level—at the very highest reaches of our government. This can
sometimes make the difference between a rough but effective mobilization on the
fly and a colossal rolling failure.
And it is here that real criticism seems to be warranted.
The problem is not that our government wasn’t fully prepared for the swift
global spread of a novel virus, or even that it has made some serious mistakes
as a result. The problem is that its upper reaches now appear to remain
overwhelmed by choice. Learning from mistakes in a crisis and making needed
adjustments requires a structure of information flow and decision-making. It
requires a system, preferably built in advance, for deliberation, the
processing of criticism and competing views, and the formulation of complex
problems as discrete choices. It demands that any such choices that can
responsibly be made below the highest level should be—with the aid of clear
general guidance from above—and that decisions that require the president’s own
authority be brought to him in clear and concrete terms and then addressed
decisively.
The Trump administration has never been prepared for
crisis decision-making of this sort. Warning signs about that lack of
preparation have been abundant from the start. The staffing structure around
the president has always been too flat and chaotic. Crucial positions
throughout the chain of command have remained vacant or filled by temporary
appointees. In key moments, senior officials have ignored clear instructions
from the president in an ad hoc way when they have judged them
inappropriate—perhaps averting some disasters (as the Mueller report made
clear) but undermining confidence in the decision-making process at the highest
levels of our government. Advisers resist offering bad news, contrary views, or
criticism to the president, knowing they would be ignored or worse. And Trump’s
own inexperience and blinding narcissism have left him unwilling or unable to
do better.
This decisional dysfunction has had some bad
consequences. But not until this crisis has it become truly dangerous. The
president seems still not to have come to terms with the mistakes involved in
the administration’s mishandling of the testing challenge, and the White House
now seems unprepared to learn, adapt, and lead as America contemplates the
prospect that hospitals and health systems around the country could soon be
overwhelmed by intensive-care patients.
In a crisis like this, not every decision falls to the
federal government or its chief executive. But precisely because massive
mobilization is involved, some crucial choices simply do. In particular, the
president is called on to make hard choices about the deployment of resources
and to convey hard truths to the public in a way that yields resolve and
understanding. The absence of any real capacity to do this increasingly looks
like the real bottleneck failure in this crisis.
That means that those who will take further steps toward
mobilization need to take this absence into account and work around it. Senior
officials throughout the federal government need to find ways to deliberate
together and take necessary actions without elevating them to the level of
presidential decisions. Governors have to be ready to make hard judgments on
their own, as many have clearly been doing already, and to pressure federal
agencies into playing their parts without enough help from above.
All this can be done. Our system really is good at
mobilizing in a crisis and learning quickly how to manage unfamiliar terrain.
But learning to manage a crisis without the full participation of the White
House will call upon some muscles that have not been stretched in quite some
time.
We have seen some of this around the early steps toward
“social distancing” in different places. It may be odd to suggest that
aggressively shutting things down is an example of our prowess for
mobilization. But given our way of life, the willingness and the ability to
radically constrain our activities and choices is actually a show of strength.
In a free society, austerity is a form of mobilization. And it has taken shape
largely from the bottom up, in school districts, in the business world, and
then increasingly with prods from state and local leaders. The president
largely resisted the trend at first, and as late as mid March had still not
spoken in ways that might prepare the country for what’s coming and thereby
explain the drastic measures being taken everywhere. But those measures have
come regardless. And in similar ways, resources up and down our government and
across our society may be deployed to help the health system gird itself a
little better for the awful effort to come.
We are still very much in the thick of this crisis, and
real perspective on our government’s performance is impossible. But at this
stage, at least, it seems that many key officials are doing many important
things right yet also that they have to work around some serious decisional
dysfunction at the top. That, more than any particular misjudgment and more
than the sheer fact of disruption in our lives, is what appears to require
attention, criticism, and correction.
Until that improves, the response we mount will not be as
well organized or clearly articulated as it could be. But we can be grateful
that in our society not everything has to be coordinated from above. And we can
be grateful for the countless men and women, in every corner of our country and
in every facet of its life, who are rising to this grave and sudden challenge with
compassion, creativity, and courage.
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