For millions of
Americans, the federal government isn’t an
abstraction. It’s a paycheck, a housing
voucher, a student loan payment, a disaster
relief check. When the government shuts down,
those lives shut down too. Yet here we are
again - watching a small band of ideologues in
Congress hold the nation hostage, threatening
to turn off the lights on the very institution
they’re sworn to serve.
Government
shutdowns have become almost routine - not the
rare constitutional crisis they were meant to
be. Each one grows longer, costlier, and
crueler. They are the political equivalent of
self-inflicted wounds, a kind of performative
dysfunction masquerading as fiscal
responsibility. We’ve seen this play before:
in 1995, under Newt Gingrich; in 2013, when
Republicans sought to defund the Affordable
Care Act; and in 2019, when a fight over the
border wall cost the economy billions. Each
time, workers suffered, businesses stalled,
and trust eroded. Each time, the perpetrators
claimed principle - but the outcome was pain.
The current
standoff is no different. The victims will not
be members of Congress, who still collect
their paychecks and perks. They’ll be the 1.3
million federal employees who are either
furloughed or forced to work without pay.
They’ll be contractors - janitors, food
service workers, security guards - many of
them Black or brown, many of them women, who
will never see back pay. They’ll be families
who depend on food benefits, housing
subsidies, and medical research programs that
grind to a halt.
A government
shutdown is not just a political
inconvenience; it is economic sabotage. The
2019 shutdown cost the U.S. economy about $11
billion in lost output, according to the
Congressional Budget Office. This one could
surpass that if it drags on. When the
government closes, loans stall, inspections
stop, and data vanish. The Labor Department
can’t issue jobs numbers, the Commerce
Department can’t update GDP estimates, and
investors are left flying blind. You can’t
manage what you can’t measure.
For Black
Americans, the consequences cut deeper. We are
over-represented in public-sector employment -
roughly 18 percent of federal workers are
African American, compared with 13 percent of
the total population. Public service has long
been one of the few arenas where Black workers
could find stable employment, fair wages, and
access to benefits denied in the private
sector. So when Congress turns governance into
a game, it’s not abstract for Black families -
it’s a direct hit to their economic security.
And the pain doesn’t
stop there. On November
1, unless Congress
acts, SNAP
benefits - the Supplemental Nutrition
Assistance Program - will be disrupted for
more than 42 million Americans, roughly one in
eight people. The USDA has warned that no new
benefit allotments will be issued without new
funding. Households that depend on SNAP will
see their grocery budgets collapse just as
inflation keeps food prices high. States can’t
fill the gap; they don’t have the cash or the
authority.
The average
household receives about $187 a month in SNAP
support - a small sum that keeps food on the
table and the local economy moving. Every
dollar in SNAP spending generates roughly
$1.79 in economic activity. When those
benefits vanish, grocery stores, farmers’
markets, and community food distributors all
feel the loss. For families already squeezed
by rent and childcare costs, missing that
November 1 payment will mean skipped meals and
mounting stress.
The racial
implications are unmistakable. Black and brown
households are over-represented among SNAP
recipients because they are over-represented
among the working poor. In cities like
Baltimore, Detroit, and Jackson, Mississippi,
SNAP cuts will hit hardest in neighborhoods
already grappling with high unemployment and
disinvestment. Cutting food aid while a
shutdown paralyzes other safety-net programs
is a textbook case of policy
violence - harm
inflicted not through overt cruelty, but
through bureaucratic neglect and political
gamesmanship.
Programs like SNAP
and WIC, which stabilize households, have
become bargaining chips in budget fights.
Affordable-housing programs that
disproportionately serve Black and brown
renters face funding interruptions. Federal
contractors - from D.C. to Detroit - go
unpaid. Each delay compounds existing
inequities. Policy violence doesn’t always
look like brutality; sometimes it looks like
indifference.
Shutdowns also
weaken the very argument for government
itself. When the public sees a system that
can’t keep its doors open, cynicism deepens.
That cynicism is dangerous. It breeds voter
apathy, distrust in institutions, and a kind
of democratic fatigue that bad actors depend
on. “See?” they say. “Government doesn’t
work.” But that’s not proof - that’s sabotage.
The truth is that
governance is a moral obligation. It’s not
optional. We don’t expect firefighters to stop
responding to calls because they disagree on
the budget for hoses. We don’t excuse surgeons
who walk out mid-surgery because they can’t
agree on the hospital’s cafeteria menu. Yet in
Washington, lawmakers treat shutdowns as just
another tactic in the partisan toolbox - a way
to score points and raise funds.
We need structural
reform. Congress should pass an automatic
continuing resolution to keep the government
funded when budget negotiations fail. We
should protect essential services - from food
aid to paychecks - from political extortion.
And we need to call shutdowns what they are:
attacks on the American people disguised as
fiscal prudence.
Every day the
government stays closed, real people pay the
price - in missed meals, delayed paychecks,
and fraying trust. A nation that can’t keep
its government open can’t claim to be the
world’s leading democracy. Governance isn’t
just about passing laws; it’s about showing
up.
It’s time Congress
remembered that.
