One of the most powerful moments in my social policy class (and, yes, I think there are more than one; I love when students realize all of the ways in which their families depend on ‘welfare’ benefits, for example, especially through the tax code) is when we talk about budgets as reflections of our collective values.
That was a point emphasized in the book Red Ink, too, the idea that the “budget is driven by the things that people want” (p. 23).
Budgets tell the story of who we are and, in this way (and very few others), the federal budget does parallel your household budget. Looking at where you spend your money, one would get a clear sense of what you think is important.
That’s true for our national appropriations, too.
There’s a breakdown, though, in our shared conversation about budgets as a tool with which to accomplish the things that we think matter. Our budgets tell the story of who we are as a country, but we’re unable to see some critical aspects of that narrative.
When 44% of those on Social Security think they’ve never been on a government program, there’s clearly a disconnect.
When the budget is demonized as a problem to get rid of, instead of recognized as a mutual commitment to take care of each other (and ourselves), we clearly need a more honest accounting.
Individually, we may object to specific budget line items–I’m not at all sure that I want to spend $11 billion on an aircraft carrier, and I’m not certain about the advisability of spending billions on hip replacements, either–but we cannot start the conversations about whether those are the choices we want to make, and the legacy we want to leave, until we at least see them as choices that leave legacies.
The federal budget may be crafted and approved in Washington, DC, but it is not an autonomous force.
Instead, it is created by us, to reflect us.
It is of us, which means that we have the right–and the responsibility–to shape it in the image that we envision for our shared futures.
If we don’t like what we see, it is incumbent upon us to push for changes.