Few things suck the wind right outta my sails like the phrase, “This is going to be off the record.” I was matching strides with Adam Cramer, CEO of Outdoor Alliance (OA), on an unseasonably sweltering April day, bounding toward the Capitol building. It was my maiden trip to Washington, D.C., and the first thing I learned is that the average pace is something between an urgent trot and a light jog.
But with the ivory dome looming ahead, I stumbled to a stop. “Off the record,” I said, trailing off. “As in, off-off?”
“Yeah,” Cramer said cajolingly. “These meetings are on background, to get a sense of the bigger picture on how stuff in D.C. works, not quotes or statements on specific issues. You are a journalist, but in most of these meetings, you’re showing up as a constituent.”
Well, shit. That was, indeed, the assignment I’d requested. OA initially invited me out to show me exactly what the conservation-minded organization did. After all, acronym-orgs in the outdoors pop up like Colorado craft beers — each has a unique name, but a suspiciously similar flavor.
But my curiosity demanded more. So I asked if I could go deeper: Show me what the hell is really going on in D.C. Why does everything take forever? Does everyone already have their minds made up? Do our signatures, calls, and petitions actually do anything?
The OA team set to work pinning down aides and staffers who would sit down with a journalist in tow to observe the “real work” of politics — at least, the sliver of it that Cramer’s team toils over. Over the next 3 days, I sat shotgun in lavish offices, stately side rooms, and ornate halls as the public (and not-so-public) machinations of lawmaking took place.
But that candid access came with the caveat that I wasn’t scribbling direct quotes or speaking with public information officers. I was observing the spirit of how D.C. really works.
I left Washington with a greater sense of the goings-on. I met with the entire Minnesota delegation — the offices of Senator Klobuchar and Representative Omar — and the Deputy Chief of the U.S. Forest Service. I couldn’t report on the specifics of our conversations, but I could relay the 30,000-foot view; a holistic, if broad perspective of the facts.
What I learned surprised me — somehow leaving me both encouraged and, honestly, a little frustrated. The D.C. that I saw proved there’s still daylight to compromise and real, relatable human beings trying their damndest to find some middle ground. But it also revealed in real-time and frustrating exposition the childish bickering and political theater I feared from the incendiary sound bites that make up a mainstream media diet.
Yes, Sometimes It’s Contentious
When I looked at my itinerary, I immediately identified the budget committee hearing on the Department of Energy and Natural Resources as likely the most boring segment of my trip. Boy, was I wrong.
What I expected to be a droll accounting of expenses was, in fact, the most heated, dramatic exchange of the whole trip. And it had much of the acrid scent of political rancor I was afraid encircled all of Capitol Hill.
Ostensibly a check-in for House members of both parties to pin down details of Interior Secretary Deb Haaland’s departmental budget, the hearing was primarily a stage for a theatrical battle that had all the insightful discourse of a cafeteria food fight. If you’re curious about what I mean, you can watch for yourself.
Members of the political right slammed Haaland for not doing more for border security (not her jurisdiction, for the record), empowering drug cartels to run rampant on public land, and failing in virtually every measure of her position and basic human decency.
Then, when that caterwauling was over, members of the left swept in to uplift the Secretary for her exemplary character, courage, and poise under such abhorrent questioning, and something, something, something about eagles and mountains, I think. Honestly, I forgot because I started to tune out. These were adults — well-dressed adults at that! — behaving like petulant children.
In the 45 minutes I sat through the budget hearing, I’m not certain I learned one damn thing about Secretary Haaland’s budget. Make no mistake, sometimes it feels like nothing gets done.
But as I learned, it often only looks like our democracy is at a standstill.
Washington Is as Slow as You Think
For hosting such an active, fast-paced community at large, D.C. moves about as slowly as a steam engine going uphill with no flame. If the purpose of a meeting is to take action, then the Capitol should hum like the Olympic Village — but all those meetings often only result in verbal agreements to have … more meetings.
I sat in about a half-dozen private appointments. In every single one, the peak of the excitement was the customary exchange of business cards, scribbling of notes, and tapping of keys to look back at an email from a few months ago.
When I asked Cramer why our political system moves so glacially slow, his response was matter of fact: “What you see as inefficiency is the price of accountability.”
It took a moment to really sink in. Dictatorships are super-efficient, but there’s zero accountability. If something isn’t good for the people, well, too bad. According to Cramer, the slowness of things — all those checks and balances and, yes, meetings — exist to ensure no decision overlooks a stakeholder.
The machinations of government — particularly our government in the U.S. — will potentially impact nearly 400 million people, almost none of whom agree on anything across the board. During my tagalong, Cramer and the OA team were attempting to solidify support for the EXPLORE Act, a landmark bipartisan measure that was hailed as the first ever to be fully conceived, drawn up, and finalized by the outdoor industry specifically.
At the time of our meetings, it was cruising through the House en route to the Senate. It had little opposition and a promising, if not altogether clear, path to passage. If signing a bill into law was a marathon, the Explore Act passed mile 26 with a fresh Gatorade in hand and no blisters.
And still, our conversations with legislative staff faced plenty of pensive finger-tapping and long sighs while leaning back in fancy office chairs. We were close to a victory for outdoor access and land protections — but in D.C., every inch is a mile.
Signatures and Phone Calls Matter
Public sentiment is the currency of the Capitol. I’m not so naive to think that currency isn’t also the currency of the Capitol, but when it comes down to brass tacks, every politician wants to keep their job. It’s a tenuous, flawed system — politicians wield tremendous influence and power, and with that comes opportunities for personal gain. But beyond a properly calibrated moral compass, their primary motivation to “do the right thing” is the fact that their position is in our hands.
As such, they want to make decisions in the best interests of their constituents. And they rely on our input to better understand what those interests are. I’ve often doubted whether all those petitions I’ve signed actually matter. And I’ve balked at calling my legislator to weigh in for fear I wouldn’t know what to say.
But those channels exist as a lifeline for your representatives. Whatever their personal position on an issue, their charge is to satisfy the will of the people they represent, and they rely on input — calls, letters, and signatures — to help inform those decisions. This is part of the work Outdoor Alliance does. The organization’s Action Center provides a clearinghouse of current legislation and issues related to public lands and waters. And it’s also a direct line for you to share your voice with lawmakers.
To be clear, you’re probably not going to speak directly to a senator. But there are tireless staffers whose (frankly, thankless) job is to record all of our opinions.
In one of OA’s meetings with a senatorial staff member — the one where we looked back at a months-old email — batched tallies from constituent emails and petition signatures showed clear, if not unanimous, sentiment. The point is that your voice matters, however you choose to make it heard.
There’s More Purple Than You Think
In my lifetime, the social and political divide seems wider and more polarized than ever. And I know I’m not alone in that assessment. But if I had one takeaway from my visit that opened my eyes and gave me hope, it was that Capitol Hill is painted in shades of purple, not chaotic splashes of red and blue.
One of my slate of appointments landed me in the office of a legislator whose base, at times, stood divided on issues around public lands and how they should be used. Though that legislator had a prevailing sentiment to follow, the staffer I spoke to made it clear everyone in that office comprehended the plurality of opinions at stake.
In other words, while the ultimate vote may be binary, it comes after a careful consideration of many points of view. The fact that I was so surprised a politician could comprehend an opposing viewpoint and grasp the complexities of signing one single bill into law speaks volumes.
For all their clout and prominence, our politicians are largely diminished to their most inarticulate sound bites and SNAFUs. In reality, I now believe most (not all) are, in fact, empathetic, thoughtful human beings.
At the end of the day, their choices boil down to a dichotomous “yea” or “nay,” but in making those choices, they often comprehend far more than we give them credit for.
So What?
I parted ways with the OA team, thanked them for chaperoning me through the great halls of Congress, and did what so many disillusioned Americans have done before me.
I walked to the Lincoln Memorial.
If you’ve never been, you really should go. There is a never-ending river of selfie-takers and group tours, but somehow, the sprawling length of the National Mall maintains an aura of quiet calm. On one end, the sharp-angled Washington Monument juts toward the sky like a brash, triumphant monolith. It’s rather fitting.
But sitting opposite that testament to national pride is Honest Abe, his patient, prudent gaze keeping a constant balance. That’s D.C. in all its imperfect, inspiring glory. It is hard-edged and bloated, slow and hectic, a byzantine labyrinth of indecipherable machinations. But it is also human.
I didn’t leave Washington brimming with patriotism, but I left knowing that I matter to this collective more than I do not. There is not much difference between the challenges and frustrations we all negotiate day to day and the political maneuvering that runs this country.
Ultimately, it’s about people — nothing more prestigious or base than that. You have a role to play in how all this works. All you have to do is step up and make your voice heard, for the record.
If you’d like to learn more about outdoor recreation access and current public lands issues and legislation, visit OutdoorAlliance.org.
