Political Appointees Must Be More Than Placeholders

As January 20 approaches, the familiar refrain echoes through Washington, DC: "We’re running out of time." People rush to secure last-minute wins, issue final memos, and push out legacy-defining announcements. The conversation shifts to the fear that progress will be undone or rolled back with the next administration. But this end-of-term scramble reveals a deeper problem — one that has plagued administrations for decades: Political appointees are not doing their jobs.

Too often, political appointees enter their roles without a clear purpose, plan, or mission. They become spectators to the very systems they were appointed to shape. Even when they come from underrepresented communities — women, racial minorities, LGBTQ+, and others — they frequently distance themselves from the causes that secured their appointment in the first place. This dynamic doesn’t just harm their communities. It undermines the legitimacy of the entire premise of representation.

It’s time for a fundamental shift in how we think about political appointments, particularly in the military and national security space. Political appointees are not ornaments meant to fill out a photo op or satisfy a demographic checkbox. Their role is to exert civilian control over entrenched military institutions, pursue meaningful policy change, and amplify the voices of their communities. If they fail to do so, they fail not only themselves but also the communities, causes, and coalitions that propelled them into power.

Here are the three essential principles every political appointee in the military and national security establishment must understand and embrace from day one:

1. Civilian Control Means Asserting Civilian Authority

"Good order and discipline” is not a justification — it’s an excuse.

One of the most pernicious doctrines in national security is the idea of military deference — the belief that military professionals alone are qualified to set military policy and that civilian courts and political appointees should stay in their lane. This line of thinking fundamentally misrepresents the purpose of civilian leadership. Civilian control of the military is a cornerstone of our democracy. Political appointees are not there to be passive observers of military wisdom. They are there to assert and maintain control on behalf of the American people.

Yet, too often, appointees buckle under the weight of military deference. They avoid questioning longstanding practices and accept vague justifications like good order and discipline as the final word. This is a failure to lead. Civilian control exists to ensure that military policies reflect the will of the people, not the preferences of the military establishment. Political appointees must be clear-eyed about this from the start. Their mission is not to maintain the status quo but to challenge it when necessary. If a policy is discriminatory, inefficient, or unsupported by evidence, they are there to change it — not to rationalize it.

A political appointee's first obligation is not to ingratiate themselves with senior military leaders. It is to champion policies that serve the nation and uphold its values. Civilian control is not a ceremonial principle; it is a practice of accountability and oversight. Appointees must resist the temptation to blend in and remember that they were appointed to lead, not to follow.

2. Ambition Without Purpose Leads Nowhere

Great ambition without meaningful contribution is without true significance.

Many people aspire to become political appointees, but few seem to ask themselves why they want the role. It's not enough to desire a title or a line on a résumé. Without purpose, an appointee becomes a placeholder — a temporary figure in a revolving door of administrations.

Unfortunately, too many political appointees arrive in their roles with no clear goals, no roadmap, and no urgency. For months, they listen and learn while significant opportunities to enact change slip away. By the time they begin to take action, the clock is already running out. Then, when the administration changes, their entire portfolio is swept away with a pen stroke.

This cycle repeats itself administration after administration. It has to stop.

If you are appointed to a role, you must walk into the job on day one with a clear sense of what you aim to accomplish. What policies will you change? What programs will you launch? How will you leave the institution better than you found it? These questions need answers — not in year three of a four-year term, but in month one.

Moreover, appointees must ensure that the changes they pursue are durable. It’s not enough to create a new executive order, instruction, regulation, or policy that can be reversed by the next administration. Policies must be institutionalized. If you haven't enshrined it in a law passed by Congress or a precedent established by the Courts, you're not done. So, stop planning the performative victory celebration or drafting the self-congratulatory press release.

Every policy should be evaluated with a single question in mind: Can this survive the next election? If the answer is no, then the work is not complete.

3. Representation Is More Than Visibility — It’s Responsibility

If you climb to power on the strength of your community, you owe it to them to send the elevator back down.

When someone from a marginalized or underrepresented community is appointed to a role, advocacy organizations often celebrate it as a win for representation. But there is a catch. Too often, these appointees try to shed the identity that got them the role. They distance themselves from their community, avoid taking action on issues that affect their people, and attempt to present themselves as neutral.

This is betrayal.

When women, racial minorities, LGBTQ+, and other appointees refuse to advocate for issues affecting their communities, they send a dangerous message: Those from marginalized communities will only be tolerated so long as they remain silent and invisible. This reinforces the very systems of exclusion their appointment was supposed to challenge.

There’s no shame in being the woman appointee, the black appointee, or the gay appointee. If you were selected, it’s because your community believed in you. You do not have to be a one-dimensional caricature of that community, but you do have an obligation to champion its issues when the time comes. To run from that obligation is to undermine every future appointee who looks like you.

It is not enough to represent by existing in a room. Representation requires advocacy, risk, and courage. It requires you to be the one who raises your hand and speaks up when no one else will. It requires you to push back on military deference when it comes to the rights of LGBTQ+ servicemembers, black servicemembers, and women in uniform. If you were only looking for photo ops and press mentions, you never should have accepted the role.

Stop Collecting Names, Start Cultivating Leaders

Washington, DC, is filled with lists of potential appointees — people from specific communities, alumni of prestigious institutions, members of elite leadership programs. These lists are curated, polished, and presented as evidence of diverse talent pipelines. When one of those candidates lands a political appointment, the organizations behind those lists claim victory.

But the real measure of success isn't who gets appointed — it's what they do once they’re in power. To every advocacy organization curating a list of potential appointees: Start demanding more from the people you endorse. And to every aspiring political appointee: Know what you're walking into. You must lead, not follow.