Trust: America’s Best Chance by Pete Buttigieg

I supported Pete Buttigieg in the Democratic nomination race. Jim and I were in Washington D.C. in April 2019 when Pete announced his candidacy. We took a day during our vacation to stand with supporters in a gay bar called Pitchers and watch his announcement from a warehouse in South Bend. We donated a little money. I bought the tee shirt, three of them, actually, and I still proudly wear them. I read his previous book, Shortest Way Home, and was impressed with its high literary quality. He’s an impressive guy. I think I would feel the same about his politics either way, but as a married, gay man, his candidacy inspired me personally.

His new book, Trust, is a brief reflection on an important building block of a healthy democracy. It’s not a policy book. And Buttigieg claims, in the acknowledgments, that, “This is not an election book” (p. 181). But it is of course. For a young man still at the beginning of his political life, this book will be an election book voters will turn to, or be reminded of, in all of his campaigns to come. And there will be many. A favorite topic for Jim and I and our friends is guessing what position Buttigieg will take in the Biden administration. (I’ll share my answer below). But after Biden’s presidency is over, Buttigieg will still have a very long way to go. I’m glad about that.

Following an introduction, the book consists of four short chapters on trust: why trust is important in a democracy; how we lost trust in government since it’s measured peak in the early 60s (the lies of the Vietnam War, the criminality of Nixon, and then Reagan’s direct attacks on government as a solution to civic problems); why trust is especially required at this moment in history as we face in the next decade several serious threats, including the last chance to address the existential threat of climate change; and then, finally, some recommendations on how we rebuild our broken trust. Following the main text and the acknowledgments are two appendices. One is an excerpt from a Pew survey conducted in 2018 on Americans’ level of trust in each other and our institutions. (I’m not sure why this needed to be re-printed here, it’s easily available online.) The second appendix is the text of Buttigieg’s speech ending his campaign for the democratic nomination, again, rather beside the point, but I appreciated having it here.

That Buttigieg includes the text of his concession speech illustrates something important about the book. The book is about trust. But it’s also a personal memoir of sorts, as was Shortest Way Home. He includes stories of his service in Afghanistan, and a trip with a friend to Somaliland, and stories from the campaign trail. And it is an election book, with statements about important political issues and policy recommendations. It is well-researched (end notes included), and insightful, but it’s not a neutral examination of trust from a social scientist, it’s “trust” as viewed by a private citizen, for now, whose life is affected by the erosion of trust in our democracy, and by, probably soon again, a politician, who hopes to take a leadership position in restoring trust.

Complicating the four chapter structure of his book is a secondary outline that Buttigieg reveals in his introduction. Talking about the importance of the coming decade, Buttigieg writes, “It will be in these years that we succeed or fail in advancing racial and economic justice, in stopping the worst effects of climate change, and in repairing the standing of our country around the world” (p. 11). Those four issues are highlighted, in that order, in the four chapters that follow. Combining those two, parallel outlines, with the tertiary memoir elements creates a somewhat swirling text. The themes come through, but the arguments are not always clear and it’s sometimes hard to trace why one idea follows another.

The racial justice chapter comes off as the most obviously, “election” book material. Clearly Buttigieg wants something on the record concerning the issue that most hung him up during the presidential nomination campaign. But he mostly repeats the pro forma statements expected of a white progressive politician without adding new ideas. He takes a safe position in a discussion currently filled with landmines, a tactic that is probably both politic, and wise. The economic justice material gets the least attention. He does best in his discussion of climate change. The issue of America’s standing in the world is personal for him, from his time in the military, and other trips abroad. You can feel his sadness. Buttigieg is a man for whom character counts highly and it must be particularly painful for him to see Trump trashing our international reputation. It’s also the wound that he seems to think he can do the most to heal.

One of the qualities I admire most in Pete Buttigieg is that he grounds his public policy in civic virtues. One of the campaign tee shirts I bought lists his, “rules of the road”: ten underlying values that will control his team’s conduct of the campaign: “Respect, belonging, truth, teamwork, boldness, responsibility, substance, discipline, excellence, and joy.” It’s enlightening to recognize that our national political ill-health isn’t merely a question of issues (racial and economic injustice, climate change, etc.) but also a deeper question of broken trust.

And in suggesting some programs to repair national trust, Buttigieg grounds our problem even deeper. Trust comes from belonging, one of his “rules of the road.” Trust arises, Buttigieg sees, through overlapping circles of commonality. Trust in each other, and trust in our institutions will grow again, when we see ourselves in each other and see ourselves in our institutions, again. To do that, Buttigieg recommends four important ideas, all related to the idea of seeing ourselves, primarily, as “Americans” once again. I found these ideas promising, and exciting. They aren’t radical. They aren’t even new.

Service. Building on his experience in the military, an institution that combines diverse demographics, directed toward meaningful work, a shared understanding of sacrifice, trust in skills acquired through common training, and constant cooperation; Buttigieg suggests a program of national service. The military for some. For others, Americorps or something similar. This is the job I’d like to see Buttigieg take in the Biden administration, leading a program of voluntary national service.

Taxes. Americans don’t trust government because government so often performs so poorly. “Your tax dollars at work” we say with a sneer. But our government, like any institution, performs poorly when it lacks the resources it needs to perform well. Raising taxes, on the wealthy and on corporations, would give government the ability to do its job well. And, an equitable tax structure, in which all persons are seen to pay their fair share, increases our sense of belonging: the government is you and I. Buttigieg illustrates this point with the example of the Scandinavian countries: high taxes, high satisfaction with government programs, and also high trust and happiness.

Restorative Justice. Buttigieg recommends a formal program of wrestling with our nation’s still open wounds of racism stemming from our roots in the genocide of native americans and race-based slavery. Restorative justice techniques are rooted in truth-telling and transparency, required to restore trust in powerful institutions that have not proved trustworthy for too many Americans. I find this section of Buttigieg’s proposed solutions to be the most ambiguous and least persuasive but it’s worth exploring.

Election Reform. Included not in his final chapter but in the chapter stressing the importance of the coming decade, Buttigieg advocates for election reform. He re-iterates the support he gave during his campaign for a constitutional amendment that would eliminate the electoral college. More immediately he asks for, “steps to prevent voter suppression, to facilitate voting both by mail and in person, to establish automatic voter registration, to redraw legislative districts through impartial processes, to counter and diminish the role of money in politics, and other actions to make our representative republic truly representative” (pp. 137-138).

It’s shocking to realize that Buttigieg ended his democratic nomination campaign only eight months ago. His concession speech is dated March 8, 2020. It seems so long ago. Earlier that day he had marched with most of the other democratic nominees on the Edmund Pettus bridge, marking the 55th anniversary of Bloody Sunday. John Lewis, suffering with pancreatic cancer, joined the march. Now the world is mired in a coronavirus pandemic. Millions are out of work. John Lewis is dead. President Trump flails, and lies, sows discord and hate. Trump spreads doubt about the legitimacy of the election and equivocates about accepting the results.

This book is a product of this time. And a necessary light in a dark time. As up-to-date as it is, including reflections on the coronavirus pandemic among its examples, it also seems so, last month. The death of Ruth Bader Ginsberg and the rush to replace her happened too recently to be included. Trump’s tax returns showing evasion and cheating was revealed too recently to be included. Trump’s own coronavirus infection and the infections of many on the White House staff happened too recently to be included. I’m afraid the next month will only get darker. I’m thankful for the lingering assurance of this book called Trust.