Process and Performance: How America traded systematic improvement for quick wins—and lost both
It's not about finding middle ground between transformation and bureaucracy or punching left or right in favor of "moderates"—it's about recommitting to the idea of systematic improvement and quality
On a crisp morning in early 2024, deep in traditionally Democratic strongholds like the Bronx and Queens, voters shifted rightward—not out of newfound conservative conviction, but from frustration with government effectiveness. The same citizens who supported minimum wage increases and worker protections were demanding fundamental changes in how their government operated. This pattern reveals a crucial truth: the debate about government effectiveness can’t be solved by punching left or ignoring some of the recommendations of the more eccentric fellows of the right, or else Hegel’s pendulum wouldn’t be swinging. Long time readers know that I talked about taking inventory of local government successes, and we are in the middle of doing so, but it is a good idea to keep in mind some history of government reform.
America's Forgotten Excellence: The Bureau of the Budget's Management Revolution
Before discussing Clinton's reforms, we must understand a transformative but forgotten chapter in American governance: the Bureau of the Budget's Work Simplification program. In the 1940s, as World War II strained federal resources, poor management wasn't just an inconvenience—it actively impeded the war effort. The Bureau of the Budget responded with an innovation that would help drive government effectiveness for the next two decades.
Their approach, termed "Work Simplification," represented a sophisticated understanding of organizational improvement that modern reformers would do well to study (please also subscribe to State Capacitance, they are a goldmine on historical government reforms). Instead of targeting top leadership or implementing sweeping reorganizations, they focused on training first-line supervisors—the managers closest to actual operations. Their philosophy was simple: implementation and policy were inseparable, and therefore managers needed systematic training in procedure improvement to achieve policy goals.
The program's cornerstone was process charting (i.e. flowcharting)—a systematic method for analyzing workflow. Managers learned to create detailed charts tracking how documents moved through their agencies, categorizing each step as creation/modification, transportation, storage, or verification. But this wasn't just about documentation. The crucial innovation was requiring managers to justify each step's purpose, challenging the common pattern where executives knew how processes worked but not why each step existed (something different from modern consultants’ flowcharting as they document the process, but not the reason nine times out of ten).
This approach achieved remarkable results. At its peak in the 1950s, public trust in the federal government reached almost 80%—a stark contrast to today's 20%. The same "stodgy" bureaucrats who mastered process charting would oversee achievements from the Interstate Highway System to the successful administration of the GI Bill.
What made this program work? Several key elements stand out:
Systematic Training: The Bureau developed clear, teachable methods that managers of average competence could master.
Ground-Level Focus: They equipped front-line supervisors with analytical tools rather than targeting top leadership.
Practical Application: Training wasn't complete until managers had successfully improved an actual process in their unit.
Long-term Perspective: The program aimed to build sustained analytical capability rather than achieve quick wins.
The contrast with modern reform efforts is striking. Where Work Simplification taught managers to systematically analyze and improve processes, contemporary initiatives often rely on consultants and top-down directives. Where the Bureau built sustained improvement capability, modern reforms frequently seek dramatic transformations.
This wasn't unique to the government. During the same period, W. Edwards Deming was teaching similar principles to American industry during the war effort, training thousands in statistical process control methods. These approaches helped "Rosie the Riveter" outperform her male predecessors, contributing significantly to the Allied victory. Yet after the war, both industry and government largely abandoned these systematic approaches—only to watch in amazement as Japan adopted them to achieve its economic miracle.
The Path Not Taken: Deming's System of Profound Knowledge
What America forgot—and what Japan eagerly learned—was more than just statistical techniques. Through his work in Japan, Deming developed what he would later call the System of Profound Knowledge, comprising four fundamental elements:
A Theory of Knowledge: How do we know what we believe we know?
A Theory of Variation: How do we analyze and understand what we know?
A Theory of Psychology: How do we account for human behavior?
An Appreciation of Systems: Are we seeing the bigger picture?
These principles weren't abstract theory—they were practical tools for transformation. In Japan, they helped turn "Made in Japan" from a joke into a mark of excellence. In America's post-war government, similar principles, applied through the Bureau of the Budget's Work Simplification program, achieved remarkable results.
The program's success stemmed from its alignment with Deming's principles. Process charting taught managers to understand variation in their workflows. The focus on understanding why each step existed reflected a theory of knowledge. The emphasis on front-line worker involvement showed an appreciation for psychology. And the requirement to analyze entire processes demonstrated systems thinking.
The Clinton Era: A Missed Opportunity
Before entering national politics, Bill Clinton had established himself as a pioneer of government reform, building on this historical foundation. In Arkansas, his administration embraced Total Quality Management principles, creating a systematic approach to improving state services. This wasn't just management theory—it was practical governance that delivered results. State agencies developed clear metrics, engaged front-line workers in improvement efforts, and built sustainable processes for the continuous enhancement of public services.
This success wasn't unprecedented. America had a rich history of effective government management, particularly in the post-war period. As we saw with Presidents Truman and Eisenhower, the Bureau of the Budget's Work Simplification program achieved remarkable improvements in government operations. Through systematic training of front-line supervisors, process analysis tools, and a focus on sustained improvement, the federal government achieved public trust levels above 80% in the 1950s.
These successes shared common elements: systematic training programs, worker involvement in improvement efforts, and a focus on long-term capability building rather than quick wins. They aligned closely with the quality management principles developed by W. Edwards Deming and Joseph Juran, who would later help transform the Japanese industry. Even Clinton understood the front-line perspective, stating 'No one is more frustrated by bureaucracy than the workers who deal with it every day and know better than anyone how to fix it. Employees at the front lines know how to make government work if someone will listen.'
Yet this worker-centric vision was undermined when Clinton launched a six-month government performance review led by Vice President Al Gore, modeled after Texas Controller John Sharp's cost-cutting initiatives. While the rhetoric emphasized system optimization, worker empowerment, and continuous improvement, the reality proved quite different. Sharp's approach in Texas, which Gore explicitly emulated, focused on quick wins and theatrical gestures - from Gore’s hammering ashtrays on Letterman to Sharp publicly shaming agencies with 'Silver Snout' awards for wasteful spending.
While these tactics generated headlines and political capital, they often relied on accounting maneuvers rather than genuine process improvements. As Richard Murray, a political scientist at the University of Houston, noted about Sharp's program: 'But whether he's really been able to reinvent government or set a plan for it, since Texas has a remarkably decentralized system, that's much more arguable.'
Even Sharp's celebrated cost savings often came from accounting shifts, like transferring Medicaid costs to federal taxpayers or accelerating sales tax collection - exactly the kind of short-term thinking that would later plague Gore's initiative. This approach fundamentally misaligned with true worker empowerment and systematic improvement, instead setting the stage for workforce reductions and an emphasis on visible but superficial changes over lasting reform.
The Siren Song of Corporate Transformation
When Gore's NPR team began their work, they faced a choice: build on Clinton's successful experience with systematic improvement or embrace the corporate transformation practices then sweeping American business. They chose the latter, aligning themselves with what Gore termed the "Atari Democrat" vision—a performative technocratic, market-oriented approach that prioritized dramatic change over systematic improvement.
This choice reflected both the political moment and Gore's ideological leanings. The Atari Democrats championed a vision of government that embraced private sector methods, sought market-based alternatives to traditional regulation, and viewed conventional bureaucracy as hopelessly outdated. This ideology found its perfect complement in the corporate transformation methods of the era, particularly Jack Welch's approach at General Electric.
Welch's GE had become the model of corporate transformation, achieving dramatic results through aggressive workforce reduction, structural reorganization, and metrics-driven management. All of these failed completely and utterly, along with helping accelerate the decline of American manufacturing. The appeal was obvious: quick, visible wins that could demonstrate commitment to change. But this approach carried hidden (but extremely predictable) costs that would only become apparent over time.
The Fatal Compromise: Quality Management in Name Only
The NPR's September 1993 report revealed the fundamental contradiction at the heart of the initiative. While it spoke the language of quality management—customer focus, employee empowerment, continuous improvement—its actions reflected a fundamentally different philosophy. The initiative targeted 250,000 positions for elimination while simultaneously preaching quality management principles.
This wasn't just a tactical error; it represented a fundamental misunderstanding of quality management theory. Both Deming and Juran had explicitly warned against such approaches. Deming's famous 14 Points emphasized driving out fear and eliminating numerical quotas—precisely what the NPR's workforce reduction targets created. Juran's Quality Trilogy focused on building capability rather than cutting costs. By ignoring these principles, the NPR set itself up for failure.
The timing proved particularly unfortunate. Business Process Reengineering (BPR) was challenging quality management's dominance in the corporate world, launched by Michael Hammer's provocative Harvard Business Review article "Reengineer Work: Don't Automate-Obliterate." BPR advocated discarding continuous improvement as too slow and incremental, instead pushing for radical process redesign. This philosophy would significantly influence the NPR's approach, leading to an emphasis on dramatic change over systematic improvement.
The Implementation Challenge: Structure Without Substance
The NPR's implementation approach revealed fundamental misunderstandings about organizational change. The initiative relied on a rotating staff of federal employees, which dwindled from 250 to about 40 after the initial effort. This structure violated basic principles of effective change management: stable leadership, consistent focus, and built-in sustainability mechanisms.
The initiative's achievements were real but ultimately fragile. Electronic tax filing evolved from concept to reality, FirstGov.gov (now USA.gov) emerged as a crucial digital portal, and new institutional structures like the President's Management Council took shape. Yet these successes couldn't compensate for the fundamental weakness in the NPR's approach: its failure to build sustainable improvement capability within agencies.
The contrast with earlier government management successes is striking. Eisenhower's Work Simplification program had created lasting capability through systematic training and process improvement. The NPR, in contrast, relied on "champions" and rotating teams, creating changes that proved vulnerable to shifting political winds.
The Legacy: Capability Lost, Lessons Unlearned
The NPR's legacy extends beyond its immediate impact on federal agencies. It marked a crucial moment when American institutions—both public and private—chose dramatic transformation over systematic improvement. This choice would have lasting consequences for institutional effectiveness.
The initiative achieved its numerical targets, eliminating 426,200 federal positions over seven years. But this "success" came at a heavy cost: lost institutional knowledge, weakened process capabilities, and a reduced ability to tackle complex challenges. Subsequent administrations discovered that rebuilding these capabilities would prove far more difficult than cutting them.
More broadly, the NPR's experience offers crucial lessons about the relationship between management philosophy and institutional effectiveness. The initiative's failure wasn't just in its specific choices but in its fundamental approach to organizational change. By prioritizing dramatic transformation over systematic improvement, technology over process understanding, and quick wins over capability building, it sacrificed long-term effectiveness for short-term visibility.
The Lost Art of Government Management: Then and Now
The contrast between the Bureau of the Budget's approach and contemporary reform efforts is stark and instructive. In the 1950s, federal management development meant two-week residential training programs where supervisors learned detailed process analysis methods, statistical thinking, and systematic improvement techniques. Today, management development often means half-day seminars on leadership styles or brief workshops on the latest management trends.
Consider how each era approached process improvement:
Under the Bureau of the Budget's system, supervisors spent days creating detailed process charts of their operations. They mapped every step, measured time and motion, and systematically analyzed opportunities for improvement. Workers participated directly in this analysis, contributing their front-line knowledge to improvement efforts. Changes were implemented methodically, with careful attention to sustaining improvements over time.
Contemporary approaches often rely on outside consultants conducting brief assessments and proposing dramatic changes. Workers are "surveyed" rather than engaged, and improvements are measured in cost reductions rather than enhanced capabilities. The focus is on quick wins rather than sustainable change.
The differences extend to how each era understood management itself:
The Bureau's approach treated management as a systematic discipline requiring specific technical skills. Supervisors learned statistical methods, process analysis techniques, and systematic problem-solving approaches. They were expected to master detailed analytical tools and apply them rigorously to their work.
Today's reforms often treat management as primarily about leadership style or organizational culture. While these factors matter, the loss of technical management skills has reduced agencies' ability to analyze and improve their operations systematically.
Even the definition of "results" differs markedly:
In the Bureau's era, results meant sustainable improvements in government operations, measured through detailed process metrics and capability assessments. Success was evaluated over years, not quarters, and improvements were expected to compound over time.
Contemporary reforms often focus on dramatic short-term changes, such as headcount reductions, budget cuts, or restructuring efforts. These changes produce impressive immediate metrics but often prove unsustainable or even counterproductive over time.
The implications of these differences become clear in times of crisis. When COVID-19 struck, agencies struggled to adapt their operations quickly and effectively—precisely the kind of capability that systematic process understanding and improvement would have facilitated. The same patterns emerged during the 2008 financial crisis and Hurricane Katrina response.
The Way Forward: Rediscovering Systematic Improvement
As we confront contemporary challenges in government effectiveness, the NPR's experience offers crucial lessons. Effective reform requires:
A sophisticated understanding of organizations as complex systems, not mechanical structures to be re-engineered
Recognition that quality improvement is a systematic endeavor requiring sustained effort, not a series of dramatic gestures
Understanding that transformation requires profound changes in thinking and practice, not just structural reorganization
The NPR's fundamental error was abandoning proven systematic improvement methods in favor of politically expedient cost-cutting that aimed to appease fiscal hawks and frankly bad faith actors, something that we seem to refuse to learn from. While NPR made some valid contributions to technology adoption and customer service orientation, these gains were undermined by its core betrayal of quality management work developed during WW2, the work of Demings and Juran, and the Bureau of Budget's proven methods. The lesson isn't about finding the middle ground between transformation and bureaucracy or punching left in favor of "moderates"—it's about recommitting to the systematic, worker-centered improvement approaches that delivered results in the past.
The Truth About Rebuilding
The hard truth is that we don't know how to fully rebuild the capabilities we've lost, or what we are going to lose because of Hegel's swinging pendulum. During WW2 and the post-war era, America built extraordinary capabilities—from the Bureau of Budget's systematic training programs to the quality management systems that helped 'Rosie the Riveter' outperform her predecessors. These weren't just policies—they were complex organizational capabilities built over decades through systematic training, detailed workflow analysis, and genuine worker engagement. We can't simply dust off old manuals or recreate training programs from the 1950s (and trust me, I am trying).
What we can do, however, is take careful inventory of what works, both past and present. As the recent shifts in traditionally Democratic strongholds show, voters aren't seeking ideological solutions; they want a government that works. And while we can't immediately recreate the capabilities we've lost, we can start by systematically documenting what works, learning from both our past achievements and current successes.
> implementation and policy were inseparable
Big block letters on a poster in every elected representative's office.