written in blood
be the future
"Every regulation is written in blood." I've heard this saying in several contexts and it applies to every one. Most rules aren't written until something bad happens. We require seatbelts in cars because thousands of people died without them. OSHA exists because of the millions of people killed or maimed in unsafe workplaces. This maxim, "written in blood," doesn't only have a safety context. We can also apply it to policies that increase access to basic human needs.
When I started working in food banking, I heard stories that disgusted me. Food pantries that changed their hours so as not to feed farmworkers who stopped by after their shifts. People turned away because they didn't have a license or state ID. Families denied more than a day's worth of food because the pantry across town was closer to their home. Immigrants asked for their social security card before they could enter the building. Before I continue: in Washington state we use "food bank" and "food pantry" interchangeably. Both mean a place, like a church or standalone nonprofit, where people can come and get food. Even small food cupboards are food banks!
In the old days in Washington, each food bank had a "service area." These were lines drawn on a map that designated which food bank you'd visit depending on where you lived. If this was your first time at the food bank? They'd take your ID or utility bill and pull out a big map with the lines drawn. They'd find where you live and confirm you were in their service area. If you weren't, many places would give you a small bag of canned food and direct you to the food bank closer to your house. It didn't matter if you lived somewhere else now. It didn't matter if you worked nearby and this pantry was on your way home. It didn't matter if the pantry closer to your house gave out rations too meager to survive. Your service area was your service area. Any forgiveness from the rules usually depended on one person's kindness and generosity. If they didn't make an exception for you, that was your problem.
How could we deny food to anyone who comes to a place established for that exact purpose? It was these stories and more that inspired my colleagues and I to lobby for change to the system itself. We convinced the state funder for food banks to change their policies. We persuaded them to clarify that they never required ID for someone to get food. We asked the funder to abolish service areas entirely. The state of Washington, we argued, collects tax revenue to fund government services. We don't have an income tax, so sales tax is the major source of state revenue. This means that every single person pays for the funds that now go to food banks around the state. Local government dollars come from the people nearby who live and work in an area. This means that every single person, regardless of where they live, has paid for that safety net. They deserve to get food they need to live—from social programs established to do just that.
These new policies didn't come out of nowhere. They changed because the old ways caused people to go hungry. Those policies harmed people who often had nowhere else to turn. We paid for our new policies with the anguish of all the people who never got to eat under the old system. This is why we needed new rules like these. This is why changing guidelines matters.
People who write public policy have a core responsibility to the public. So how do we be sure that good policy reaches everyone it can? How can we ensure that policy has the greatest potential for positive impact?
respond well to a need
Every industry has their version of the horrible stories that I shared above. And they all have policy and decision-makers with the power to fix them. The first question I ask about a rule change is, "how will it prevent this issue from happening again?" We have to be deliberate about matching the change to the desired outcomes. If the new rule doesn't prevent an issue, we need to rework it until it does. Listening to the affected communities and root cause analysis will help.
Policies must match the realities of people's real lives. People who are new to food banking don't know how we do things. Many people who visit a food bank must first process the shame or stigma that society attaches to places of need. They might have exhausted every other option for feeding themselves and their families. They may visit one because they remember when a family member sought one out in similar hard times. But most people aren't familiar with the often confounding rules of privately-managed public works. If I needed a food bank, I'd go to the one near where I live. Or I'd stop at one that's near my workplace. I'd find one I can get to by bus. I'd look for one whose hours match my schedule.
This logic applies even in small towns. In the rural places where I've lived, we work, live, and play all over. I used to drive past many small towns to get to work and school each day. How would any service area fit a life like this? If we organize our policies according to made up rules like service areas, we will leave people out.
one strategy won't work the same everywhere
One-size-fits-all policies are usually risky. How do we know that the rule that works in one area will work in another? I often discourage broad solutions in favor of local, community-driven ones. But we need to set broad standards for policies that control access. Access to abortion should not be a local issue. It's too easy to leave people out for discriminatory reasons.
Once I learned about these injustices, it would have been so easy to go small. Most food banks in Seattle already use a policy that allows them to serve anyone. It would have been fast to collaborate on a policy within my city's limits. But people outside my city deserve food, too. People anywhere and everywhere face unexpected hard times. Who are we to decide when and how they deserve food? Why should local decision-makers decide that or demand it of service providers? I refuse to live in a world like that. We needed to go bigger. The largest authority we could appeal to was the state, so we did that.
That doesn't mean that local changes won't be necessary. It only means that our policies must consider everyone who the policies will affect. What will those people's experiences look like somewhere else? How is that different from other places? How can we make sure that people, everywhere, get the respect and dignity that they deserve?
broader solutions call for education, guidance, and deep intent
Universal policy decisions must educate people about our goal. We kept our focus on this idea: it should not be hard to get food when you can't afford it. When we talk about policy changes, we need to center that goal in our messaging. In the old system, people couldn't get what they need. Too many food pantries turned people away when they needed help. Let's highlight the absurdity of that every time it comes up. Food banks used to ask for state ID from people they knew couldn't provide it. They would scrutinize large families and people of color who didn't look "local" enough. Let's highlight the systemic racism of that every time.
Guidance about new policies must be kind and compassionate. But we should extend that kindness and compassion first to the people who faced harm. To be sure, policy changes can be hard on the people who administer social programs. Many operate on a shoestring budget, but that too is no accident. Nonprofits and social programs on tight budgets are easier for a lawmaker to fund. Wealthy funders often benefit from these safety nets but are loathe to pay for them. Without small nonprofits, officials might have to address the real hardships their poorest constituents face. In a just world, food banks wouldn't exist at the scale they do now. But decision-makers made a bet that nonprofits will cover for their catastrophes. Housing costs, declining wages, predatory food prices, and more are what's at fault. Many societies have solved for these issues. Until ours does, we must be sure that our decaying safety nets aren't woven with racism and bigotry.
Whenever we face challenges to new policies, remember the intent. Acknowledge that we must never go back to the way things were. Once we stop denying food to people who need it, how could we ever go back? Changes to new policies must first answer a simple question: how will each change affect people who need help? How can we know? In what ways can they tell us?
remember the blood
Whatever you do, in whatever capacity you do it, remember who we center. Remember why we must center people who suffer in the systems around us. When you update guidance, or when you receive new guidance, think abut why. Who will benefit from these new changes? Who should benefit from them? Shouldn't the answer be the people who have the least amount of power in that system?
The old policies might have worked well enough for the people who had to run their programs under them. They are not who we should be centering. Every regulation is written in blood. We must double our efforts to help the ones forced to shed it.
my name is josh martinez. i have always loved trying to understand systems, and the systems that built those systems. i spend a lot of time thinking about how to get there from here.
i own and operate a consulting practice, Future Emergent.
say hello! josh@bethefuture.space
sometimes i go back and edit these posts after i publish them. you can always visit bethefuture.space for the most up-to-date version of this post.
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