When Public Service Feels Like Private Silence: A Call for Worker-Centered Governance

For over a decade, I’ve served in some form of public service—five years active duty in the U.S. Marine Corps, three years at NAVFAC as a federal Contract Specialist, and now nearly two years with the City of San Diego. Across every tier of government, I’ve seen one pattern repeat: the deeper you go into the bureaucracy, the less seen you become. Public service, ironically, can feel like one of the most isolating professions.

We talk often about transparency, about inclusion, about community—but what happens when those values stop at the department door? What happens when workers in government, the ones expected to carry out the vision of elected officials, aren’t truly part of the conversation?

The Illusion of Listening

I recently received a citywide “Employee Sentiment Survey.” It opened with kind words from leadership and the promise of anonymity. It asked how likely I’d be to recommend working for the City and what I’d change to improve the workplace. But like many public servants, I’ve grown accustomed to these gestures: performative listening, unreciprocated feedback loops, and token moments of engagement that rarely shift material conditions.

I don’t say this with cynicism—I say it with concern. The people closest to the problems often have the clearest solutions, yet are furthest from the power to implement them. And that’s not just inefficient; it’s a structural flaw.

This erosion of trust is not isolated. The Partnership for Public Service’s 2024 report revealed that only 23% of Americans trust the federal government, down from 35% in 2022. When trust erodes at the macro level, it reflects deep dysfunction within institutional structures—and employees at all levels feel the effects.

The Bureaucracy Barrier

In my department, I’ve never had a single meeting with the Deputy Director. Not once has he asked how we’re doing or what challenges we face. Leadership operates in a silo—seemingly preoccupied with their next career move while we hold the daily operations together. The Director’s detachment only deepens that divide.

This isn’t unique to my office. It’s a feature of how most public institutions are structured: rigid, hierarchical, and resistant to the very democratic spirit they claim to serve. Decisions are made far above, often disconnected from operational realities. Initiative is smothered by red tape. Creativity is discouraged in favor of compliance.

This kind of structural detachment doesn’t just harm departments like mine—it echoes all the way up the chain of government. We’re also witnessing the consequences of this detachment play out on a national stage. The newly created Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), spearheaded by Elon Musk, was designed to cut federal waste. Instead, it’s led to widespread demoralization and dysfunction. Over 1,000 employees at NOAA have resigned or been terminated, and spam emails have replaced official weather briefings. What’s sold as ‘efficiency’ has become a case study in alienating the very workers who keep critical public systems running.

Similarly, at the Social Security Administration, internal reports reveal that offices are overwhelmed, undertrained, and destabilized. Confusing directives and chaotic rollouts have left veteran staff fearing they’re being “set up to fail.” That kind of systemic negligence—intentional or not—erodes not just service delivery, but the emotional resilience of the workforce.

A Marine's Reflection: When Discipline Replaces Autonomy

There’s a saying in the Marine Corps: “Hurry up and wait.” It captures the bizarre tempo of service life—rushed orders, endless delays, and decisions made behind closed doors under a strict "need to know" doctrine. We’re taught never to be the last one with a secret, yet that urgency only applies to the bottom of the chain. Higher up, withholding information becomes a form of control.

This culture leaves lasting damage. After years of service—of following orders without question—you end up with a person trained to function only when told what to do. They call it discipline, defined as “instant and willing obedience to all orders,” but it robs people of autonomy. Eventually, that discipline becomes a prison. Veterans find themselves waiting—not for a mission, but for direction in life. And when none comes, it breeds isolation, internal chaos, and a kind of homegrown PTSD that no one talks about. We have discipline, but not self-guidance. Obedience, but no vision. Obedience, but no vision. And when I stepped into local government after my military and federal service, I felt that same ghost of obedience haunting the halls—people waiting for permission to think, to act, to care deeply—because the system rarely rewards initiative unless it’s pre-approved by someone above. That emotional fallout doesn’t stay on the battlefield. It follows us into every system we enter—especially public service.

Worker Voice Isn’t a Perk—It’s Governance

It doesn’t have to be this way. We could design city departments where employees propose solutions, lead projects, and build career pathways through real-world contributions. We could democratize recognition by letting peers nominate each other for impact. We could adopt flexible schedules and sabbaticals to prioritize well-being, not just output.

These aren’t just HR tweaks—they're structural shifts aligned with the Equitable Future Initiative (EFI), a framework I’ve been developing to reimagine governance, labor, and community engagement from the ground up. EFI isn’t about reforming old systems. It’s about building new ones that treat every worker as a stakeholder in democracy.

From Reaction to Reinvention

Local governments are the lowest hanging fruit for change. Unlike federal agencies, cities are close enough to their communities—and their employees—to pilot bold ideas. San Diego could be a model. We could test EFI principles in real time: worker-led unions guiding projects, community members co-creating solutions, and leadership that earns trust by proximity, not position.

Public service should be a space where people grow, connect, and find purpose—not one where they feel invisible. If we want transformation, we need to stop managing from above and start building beside each other.

To City Leadership

Don’t just ask us how we feel. Ask us what we see. Ask us what we’d build. And then give us the tools and trust to do it.

Because when public service becomes private silence, we all lose the chance to govern better.