Creating bills, negotiating amendments, and shepherding them to passage as U.S. laws is a messy process, with a cacophony of voices, each with differing perspectives, all seeking to be heard and appreciated. To observers – and often to the participants – it can be slow, confusing, frustrating, and convoluted, but that is how participatory democracy works. It is a collective fumbling toward majority views on what are almost always complex issues with many discordant voices and few, if any, unambiguously obvious solutions.
As one program examiner from the Office of Management and Budget (OMB) once noted to me, when I was chairing a review of the Networking and Information Technology Research and Development (NITRD) program as a member of the U.S. President’s Council of Advisors on Science and Technology (PCAST),
Dan, I think you know this, but I feel obligated to say it. Rarely does anyone come to Washington and say, “I’m dumb and I have too much money. Can you help me fix my problem?”
There are always more ideas than there is money to support them. Consequently, successful legislation is by necessity a compromise, a selective and sometimes partisan amalgam of ideas, priorities, and projects. Rarely does any individual or group get everything they want, even when a bill becomes law on a party line vote.
Sadly, the notion that compromises are often key to progress is increasingly anathema to many, as social media echo chambers spread misinformation and harden emotional battle lines, posing increased risk to the political process. (See From Broadcast to Narrowcast: Finding Signal in the Noise.) Fact-based reasoning matters, especially as it relates to matters of science and engineering. (See Nature Cannot Be Fooled.)
It seems increasingly old-fashioned, but I still believe thoughtful advocates can and will disagree on one issue while also finding common ground on another. Put another way, one can have respectful disagreements while not demonizing the other participant; demonization forecloses the possibility of future collaborations. Most of the time, most people are trying to do what they think is right; it is important that we cling tightly to belief in innate goodness, as a shared commitment to a better future.
Nor does the legislative process always yield the best outcome, as what constitutes “best” lies in the eye of the beholder. This too is part of the great and ongoing experiment of collective debate and shared governance. Unanimity is rare, for as E. B. White once wrote, “Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half of the people are right more than half the time.” Therein lies one of the bedrocks of democracy -- the consent of the governed; accepting the current will of the majority, even as one continues to disagree and respectfully advocate for reconsideration and change.
There are, of course, always exceptions to the notion of compromise. There are occasions when any leader, whether elected or appointed, recognizes that a decision of moral and ethical consequence is at hand. Are the public statements mere rhetorical devices and political slogans, or are they derived from deeply held, carefully researched, and wisely considered beliefs and principles.
One is sometimes called to do the right thing, even when the personal and political costs are high. At these times, leaders are tested; some rise to the occasion, and some do not. We all instinctively know true leadership when we see it.
In these cases, not only does the weight of history rest heavy on one’s shoulders, but that most fierce critic and constituent – the one who stares back at you in the mirror each morning – will judge you each day for the rest of your life. That is why it is always important, but especially important in these circumstances, to think deeply and deliberatively, seek facts and context, and welcome perspectives from both those who agree and those who disagree.
CHIPS and Science
I was reminded of all of this as I watched the U.S. Congress struggle this summer to reconcile differing versions of bills that would enhance U.S. competitiveness by funding – among many other things – new semiconductor manufacturing facilities and semiconductor workforce development. What began as the Endless Frontier Act, a political nod to Vannevar Bush’s famous memorandum, then became the U.S. Innovation and Competition Act (USICA), then the COMPETES Act, the Bipartisan Innovation Act, CHIPS-Plus and, ultimately, the CHIPS and Science Act.
The CHIPS and Science Act appropriated $52 billion in subsidies for semiconductor manufacturing and associated research and development. The overwhelming majority of that money is to help the U.S. semiconductor industry “reshore” semiconductor fabrication at new and upgraded facilities. I will editorialize just a bit here and note that the U.S. lost its semiconductor manufacturing dominance in part due to a series of business decisions, each of which made near-term sense, but were not consistent with long-term national interests.
As passed, the CHIPS and Science Act also authorizes major budget increases for the National Science Foundation (NSF), targeting expanded investments in basic research, growing and diversifying the Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) workforce, and creating the Technology, Innovation, and Partnerships (TIP) Directorate for technology transfer. (See Missing Talent, Missing Opportunities, and Losing Ground.) As the current chair of the Presidentially-appointed National Science Board (NSB), which oversees the NSF, I have been heavily involved in discussions surrounding what ultimately became the CHIPS and Science Act and the still evolving implementation of its provisions.
Despite the inevitable compromises, the CHIPS and Science Act is a huge win for the science and engineering enterprise. As science fiction writer, Neal Stephenson, once noted, “If we want to create a better future, we need to start with better dreams.” The CHIPS and Science Act is a big dream, and we owe a debt of gratitude to all who helped make it a reality.
Making the Sausage
In my varied academic roles over the years, and as leader of the Technology Policy Group (TSG) while at Microsoft, I have worked the Hill and testified to both the U.S. House and the Senate on a variety of issues, mostly related to high-performance computing and how it advances scientific discovery and economic competitiveness, but also on topics as varied as weather forecasting, clouds (the compute kind), digital privacy, wireless spectrum policy, and transnational data flows. (See, NITRD: Come, Let Us Reason Together and It is Fall: There Must Be Clouds, for example.) These hearings have a certain rhythm, with prepared written statements, a brief oral presentation by each witness, then questions from the committee or subcommittee members.
Hearings are part of the sausage making that is the political and legislative process, and as important as they are, hearings are just the public theatre that complement the many private discussions with industry, academia, think tanks, policy and lobbying groups, Congressional staffers, and members of Congress. These one-on-one and small group meetings, policy briefings, and commissions, along with protests (though rarely in scientific circles) are how constituents, and we in science and engineering are definitely constituents, make their voices heard.
Most of these meetings are with Congressional staff members, who take notes and collect messages for their principals. Bear in mind there are staff who work directly for members of Congress and those who work for Congressional committees, each of which has responsibility for some aspect of government. Such Congressional committee staffers are often long-time experts and serve as the Congress’ institutional memory.
For example, the House Committee on Science, Space, and Technology has exclusive jurisdiction over the National Science Foundation (NSF), the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), the National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST), and the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP). However, although the House Committee on Science, Space, and Technology has jurisdiction over NSF, the agency’s appropriations are ultimately determined by the House and Senate Committees on Commerce, Justice, Science, and Related Agencies.
The fact that NSF is but one among several agencies addressed by these committees speaks to both its relatively small size (~$8.8 billion) and the competing priorities the committees must juggle (e.g., NOAA and weather forecasting, NASA, community policing, civil rights, and economic development). The 302(b) mark given to each subcommittee, in turn derived from the 302(a) mark given to the House and Senate Appropriations Committees, determines the total amount of money – the spending cap – available for allocation. Hence, there are always difficult choices to be made.
In between all this, lies the U.S. President’s proposed budget, which outlines the administration’s priorities. It is developed by the Office of Management and Budget, working with the executive branch agencies. These priorities may – or may not – be those of Congress, particularly if different parties control the White House and the Congress. That’s why an old Washington aphorism applies, “The President proposes and Congress disposes.” Congress gets the final word on both budget authorizations and appropriations.
NSF and the CHIPS and Science Act
Distinguishing budget authorizations (“you can and/or you shall”), as defined from appropriations (“take this money and do this”) is important. You cannot spend an authorization; it and a few dollars will buy you a cup of coffee.
There is a long history of increased authorizations for NSF, including its proposed budget doubling in 2007. Alas, the poetry of authorization yearnings has rarely translated into the appropriations prose of major budget increases. Research discoveries satisfy our unrequited curiosity, what astronomer Edwin Hubble called “the urge older than history,” but all too often, transient exigencies – wars, disaster remediation, pandemic response – and the realities of discretionary spending limits have precluded major budget increases for NSF.
One experienced Washington hand once explained Federal budget politics by noting that the U.S. government is a social service agency (Medicare, Medicare, Social Security, and other services) with a police force (national defense) and some hobbies. Science is one of the hobbies – a really important one, but, like hobbies, it is discretionary.
All of which is why it is important to make the case for appropriations in person and with “leave behind” evidence and talking points. This fall, I did just that, spending two days on Capitol Hill, meeting with Representatives, Senators, and staff members about the importance of increased investment in basic research, expanding and diversifying the STEM workforce – the Missing Millions of the NSB’s Vision 2030 – and funding the TIP Directorate’s Regional Innovation Engines (RIEs), which will broaden the geography of innovation by creating technology transfer engines across the United States.
Specifically, we asked Congress to
- Fund the National Science Foundation’s (NSF) FY23 budget at $11.89 billion, as authorized by the CHIPS and Science Act, and concomitantly
- Support the RIEs, lest the opportunity to broaden the geography of innovation be lost
- Embrace the rising global competitiveness challenges, as noted in the CHIPS and Science Act, and support growth of the STEM workforce.
It was a start. There is more work to be done – more visits, more conversations, and more evidence.
Coda
It was great to be back, seeing the hustle and bustle, the young staffers, the excited interns, the wise and experienced veterans, the earnest conversations, the clock ticking down on votes, even the concerned protesters exercising their rights. It’s democracy in action. I’ve missed seeing it.
Before 9/11 and certainly before January 6th, one could enter the U.S. Capitol and the U.S. House and Senate buildings with little fanfare, as everyone who visited was expected to exhibit a certain level of decorum and respect. It is a much more complicated process today, with more security and in many cases, an escort required on entry. However, once inside the buildings – Cannon, Longworth, and Rayburn (House) and Russell, Dirksen, and Hart (Senate) and even the U.S. Capitol – one is largely left to navigate on their own. It is not at all uncommon to pass unaccompanied Representatives and Senators in the hallways. After all, this was and is the heart of American democracy.
At the end of two days of Hill visits, my compatriots and I retired to Bullfeathers, a bar in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, to assess and recap our Hill discussions. The irony that I had once been trapped there on 9/11 for several hours was not lost on me. (See I Could Smell the Smoke.)
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