Let’s Talk About Government Reform Efforts II. Administration Alignment and Jim Furnish’s Story

Chelsea, in a recent comment, linked to a post by Don Moynihan letter signed by some academic folks in public administration.  Again, I think Schedule F is a bad idea, and I agree with these academics that there are areas of broad bipartisan agreement. I also think that any real reform needs to be reality-based.  Which would be terribly difficult to generalize, because agencies and subagencies and missions are so different.

The letter the academics wrote said

Government workers will not take justified risks or innovate if they feel they are being judged on the basis of political loyalty rather than results.

I’m only speaking of the Forest Service here:

There are many reasons that government workers don’t take justified risks or innovate.  We used to talk about how new ideas are dissolved by anti-novelty antibodies (actually there is a much better way of saying this, but I can’t remember).  And of course, say with IMTs and managed fire, “justified” risk is in the eye of the beholder.

When I worked in WO NEPA, we had a list of policies we wanted to push in either variety of Admin. Admins, when interested, can actually overcome natural organizational inertia, so there’s that.  For example, the 2001 Roadless Rule.  I happened to be at a Chief and Staff meeting with Chief Thomas and we in RPA presented the idea that we could adopt a roadless policy.  But organizational inertia prevailed – “but what about Alaska?” end of discussion. But with Admin interest and pressure..

Then we have to address “political loyalty” and try to determine whether, or how it is different from “policy alignment.”  I think it’s a key question, since folks with different policy orientations can be in different parties. Meanwhile folks are Ramspecked in  from Congressional staffs who clearly had some kind of partisan affiliation.  So, is it OK to pick people due to policy alignment for SES jobs? It seems like it would be, or at least that’s what people already do.

Jim Furnish was kind enough to let us sample from his book on his own history of how he went from Forest Supervisor to Deputy Chief.  In this part of his story, politicals sensed his alignment and put him in an SES position, from which he was able to do many innovative things in alignment with the Admin’s goals.  Also note the intensive coaching for the SES application.

Anyway, let’s let Jim tell his story:

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Washington, DC, Part II, 1999–2002

Capitol Politics

Chris Wood was Forest Service Chief Michael Dombeck’s policy advisor. Wood had followed Dombeck to the Forest Service from the Bureau of Land Management, where Dombeck had served, though never confirmed by the Senate, as acting director for four years. Dombeck, a fisheries biologist, had risen rapidly through the ranks of the Forest Service before detouring to the BLM, assured by then-Chief Dale Robertson that he had a “get home free” card. Now he was home again.

No Forest Service chief had ever employed a policy advisor before. It was hard to discern Wood’s role exactly, but not difficult to know that he was important. I first met Wood when he came to a Forest Service leadership meeting in Oregon in about 1996. Numerous stories about his influence with Dombeck preceded his arrival. It seemed Wood served as the chief’s gatekeeper. If you wanted to talk with the chief, you had to talk to Wood first.

This alarmed anyone who’d learned how to work the ropes in an agency with a very tight chain-of-command tradition. The chief’s office had historically kept a very open door to field officers, especially forest supervisors. Basic respect made stopping by to say hello to the chief de rigueur when in town. Now, anecdotes dribbled through the rumor pipeline about Wood’s unwelcome intervention in the affairs of the chief’s office. People longed to see this arrogant badass in the flesh.

When Wood came to Oregon, I found I liked him from the get-go. He was bright, energetic, optimistic, and smiled a lot, a high-minded go-getter with a real passion for issues. Youngish, he didn’t iron his shirts. He kept no pretenses, and he radiated confidence and power.

I suspect he sensed that many agency people viewed him with a wary eye, so I approached him warmly at coffee break, quickly discovering we shared a love of fishing. Then the questions started popping. He wanted to know all about the Siuslaw—what were our hot issues, what did I see as needing to happen to move Dombeck’s agenda forward? I had a vague awareness Wood used such questions to gauge my land ethic. I eagerly shared our work on thinning, road closures, and watershed restoration. Based on what I’d seen of Dombeck’s agenda, I thought my ideas about managing national forests were similar to the chief’s.

Wood enthusiastically encouraged me to keep up the good work. He mentioned that Chief Dombeck believed we were in a time of flux, and the chief wanted to find change agents. Wood said he planned to talk with Dombeck about the Siuslaw’s road closures, fisheries restoration, and thinning of plantations to promote old growth. Wood wanted me to stay in touch and keep him abreast of any new developments. This was the badass people feared? I saw nothing to fear.

To respond to Wood’s curiosity, I sent him a copy of “Torrents of Change,” a half-hour video produced by the Forest Service Employees for Environmental Ethics following the big flood of 1996. The video began by relating how the storm had affected the forests and rivers. It described how we on the Siuslaw had storm proofed our roads with water bars and how well our preventive measures had worked to absorb the punch of the storm. I also sent Wood a speech I’d just given at a Siuslaw forestwide celebration of human diversity. The talk included my thoughts on Forest Service obligations to tribes, since virtually all our western national forests had once been Native American ancestral homelands. Wood sent a note back saying that he really liked what he saw and would share it with the chief.

Wood must have sensed that I operated on a different wavelength than most other forest supervisors. On his next trip West, he confided to me that Dombeck had concerns about the willingness of agency leaders to break away from past traditions and dogma to assert bold change.

I agreed with Dombeck’s assessment. I had a certain dread and uncertainty about the future, but a keen sense that inaction was deadly. I felt compelled to break out of the mire and do something.

As we charged ahead with our programs on the Siuslaw, I mentioned to Wood how much I appreciated the newfound support I had received from the environmental community. He could appreciate that because it was so rare. Also, a fresh energy and enthusiasm was evident within the Siuslaw organization as we pursued our new mission. Yet, I explained, many of my peers had little use for or interest in the Siuslaw’s resurgent agenda.

I remember that Wood said something like, “We need this kind of stuff back in DC.”

On Wood’s next trip, he came right out and asked if I’d consider coming back to work in the chief’s office. “As what, for instance?” I replied. I loved my work in Oregon. Besides, I’d already spent a two-and-a-half-year tour in DC. I was not eager to return. In fact, going back to DC had not occurred to me since I arrived in Oregon.

“Well, the associate chief and deputy chief for national forests are both open.”

I let this cannonball bang in my brain for a moment. No forest supervisor had ever made that kind of jump.

I found Wood’s suggestion extraordinary. The associate and deputy positions were, respectively, the number-two and number-three positions in the agency. Both fell under the category of Senior Executive Service (SES) appointments, which normally involved an arduous evaluation just to get qualified, then usually six months of “charm school” training. I had done neither. Furthermore, plum positions like a deputy chief’s post always went to people already in the queue for SES positions, like regional foresters or associate deputy chiefs. This was how the old Forest Service did things.

Undeterred, Wood said the chief didn’t put much stock in all that. Dombeck just wanted to get people in these jobs who would move the Forest Service ahead. Wood said they had ways to cut through all the bureaucracy—evidenced by Dombeck’s recent appointment of Francis Pandolfi, an executive from the Times-Mirror Corporation and a complete outsider, to an SES job through open competition. Dombeck wanted people with new ideas, big ideas.

I asked if Dombeck was serious. Wood said yes, but he could guarantee nothing, since both positions would be filled through open competition. Dombeck wanted someone like me, but he couldn’t hand me the job. I understood.

I told Wood I needed time to consider his request.

I knew something about the recent rapid changes at the top. Almost immediately after Dombeck became chief, he’d fired several top SES leaders, including the former deputy chief, Gray Reynolds. Reynolds had issued a bitter rejoinder that had hit the inbox of almost all employees, saying his firing was unwarranted, unwelcome, and an offense to Forest Service tradition. Dombeck had replaced Reynolds with Bob Joslin, southern regional forester from Atlanta, but Joslin retired after only a year and a half amid rumors that he couldn’t handle the environmental politics of the Clinton administration.

Gloria Manning stepped in behind Joslin as the acting deputy chief.

There was turmoil elsewhere. Phil Janik had replaced Dave Unger, the recently retired associate chief. Dombeck chose to split Janik’s duties to create a second associate chief position. The person filling this new job would supervise the deputy chief of the national forest system.

Substantive questions needed answers before I could even think about being that person.

Could any forest supervisor succeed in such an environment, especially a supervisor from the Siuslaw, which was a small forest relative to many others? I would not be regarded as a particularly powerful or credible forest supervisor. I anticipated strong resistance and pushback because of an agency culture that respected power. If Dombeck selected me, largely unknown, as either associate or deputy chief, I would leapfrog about four or five rungs on the organizational ladder. How would this affect agency leaders’ trust in the chief? Bypassing all the more likely candidates would send a strong signal that he doubted them. This would echo in their doubts about him.

Could I succeed? Regardless of how positive Dombeck was about my accomplishments, he didn’t really know me, and I didn’t know him. My biggest concern was not my ideology, but my capacity to develop and build followership. Would regional foresters and national program directors willingly roll up their sleeves with me to get things done? A long career in the Forest Service had convinced me that a failure in either of these important jobs would be costly to both the chief and the agency.

I harbored doubts. Such a move carried steep risks. If Dombeck selected a nontraditional person like me, it would be difficult for me to bring others along, and I could easily become isolated. Yet I also sensed that Dombeck intended to pursue an ambitious agenda, and he wanted and needed like-minded people to help him. The possibility of helping shift the trajectory of the Forest Service held a tantalizing appeal.

I had long talks with my wife, Judy. Surprisingly, she supported my going after the job. She knew the inherent uncertainty that I’d get either job. Yet she’d enjoyed living in the DC area. We both knew a promotion would bring a big jump in pay, too.

Until now, Chris Wood had done all the talking with me. I told Wood that I thought it was time for me and Mike Dombeck to speak directly. Could Dombeck call me personally? Days went by, and then weeks. I began to wonder whether all my speculation was for naught.

Then, as often happens, about the time my anxiety began to burn away, Dombeck called.

We had a good talk. I shared my concerns and asked the chief his thoughts. He said he admired my accomplishments on the Siuslaw. He thought I had what he and the Forest Service needed to move the agency forward. He mentioned the scarcity of big ideas, much less big accomplishments, in crafting a twenty-first-century agenda. He and Jim Lyons, the under secretary of agriculture, both wanted people on the leadership team who would forge change.

We discussed the SES hiring process. He said he had hired others without SES experience via open competition. It was a tricky deal, though, and I needed to quickly get acquainted with Tom Leeper, who was the Forest Service’s SES expert. Dombeck asked me to tell Leeper, “The chief wants you to shepherd me through the application process.”

It was now summer 1998. Wood had mentioned that Sally Collins, Deschutes National Forest supervisor in Bend, Oregon, was also in the running. Collins and I tended to think alike, and we got along well. She and I discussed the merits of going after these jobs, and we both thought it was a big gamble. Collins told me her daughter was entering her senior high school year in Bend, and a move at this time seemed imprudent for the family. I countered that it would take many months before a decision was made, and she could bargain to delay her starting date until after graduation the following June. After much soul-searching, Collins decided not to go after either job.

I called Tom Leeper. He stood ready to help, but he warned of the arduous process before me. To receive a favorable review by the Office of Personnel Management, I would need to put together a sterling application. He said he would coach me along the way. I did ask if being a GS-14 would be held against me, since almost all those who qualified for SES selections came from the higher-level GS-15 pool. He said that would not be a problem.

The process required that candidates develop narratives demonstrating their competence in five evaluation factors: leading people, leading change, building coalitions, being results-driven, and having business acumen. Applications had to be approved by a panel of three government reviewers. If rejected, the application could be revised and submitted again, but only once.

I dove in and spent many evenings preparing my application until I felt it represented my best effort. I ran it by Tom Leeper, who said, “Looks OK.” So I submitted it. Weeks went by before Leeper called to tell me I hadn’t made it. The panel found four out of my five elements “deficient,” and the fifth just marginal. Leeper said I had another shot, but I had to pass the second time or it would be a dead end.

I begged for some insight on what I had done wrong and how to fix it. Leeper said they really looked for a “certain style” of writing (what I privately described to myself as elite bureaucrat or self-aggrandizing). Could he provide some examples? No, but he’d work with me when I sent him the next write-up. This he did: he said the application was still not there.

Desperate now, I asked if he could rewrite a few paragraphs to illustrate what he meant by a certain style. Then I submitted another heavily edited round for the Leeper test. Leeper remained nervous about my application, and I even more so.

I then invoked the Dombeck imperative. To “shepherd me” through this process, I told Leeper that he needed to give me more hands-on help. I told him that Dombeck wanted me to be a candidate available for selection. If I didn’t get through the SES gate, we’d all look bad. I asked him to work with me line by line, editing it strongly to make sure it passed the SES panel review. I was grateful when he helped me prepare my last-chance version for reconsideration.

I later discovered a couple of interesting things. Francis Pandolfi confided to me that he applied for his SES job with just one handwritten paragraph for each of the five evaluation elements. Seeing this, Leeper had delicately advised Pandolfi that this wouldn’t do, since SES applications were serious business, and Pandolfi had a lot of work to do before he could submit his work. Pandolfi said he told Leeper, “No, Tom, you’ve got a lot of work to do.” Pandolfi got the job after Leeper polished those few paragraphs to a luster that passed the SES board.

I talked with another SES person who served on review panels. He said the Office of Personnel Management took a very dim view of GS-14 candidates (like me), deeming them unworthy of consideration, since SES candidates were usually from the higher-level GS-15 pool. He indicated that GS-14s were routinely rejected without serious consideration.

Do these anecdotes indicate a double standard, or was I simply naïve? Even though I think Leeper should have been more helpful from the beginning, my application squeaked through the second time, and I became an applicant in good standing for both high-level jobs. As associate chief, I would report directly to Dombeck, and my responsibilities would include national forests and the agency’s research branch. As deputy chief, I would report to the associate chief, and I would manage all national forest issues, supervising nine regional foresters, ten national program directors, and a staff of about fifteen, with an overall budget of about two billion dollars. I knew I would be thrilled, and fully challenged, if offered either one.

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You can buy Jim’s book here.