Rebuild the Dream (3 page)

Along the way, I found my true calling—working with the private sector and policy leaders to spread the benefits of eco-friendly business opportunities into struggling communities. “We need to build a green economy that Dr. King would be proud of,” I said. “The green wave must lift all boats.”

In 2007, my team helped to convince Oakland's city council to create a Green Jobs Corps to train urban youth for the jobs of the future. The program has since been replicated in dozens of cities across the country. Additionally, I worked with Congressional leaders, including then-U.S. Representative Hilda Solis and then-Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, to create the Green Jobs Act. President George W. Bush signed the measure into law as a part of the 2007 energy bill. It designated millions of dollars for job training in green industries.

I had begun my activism as a critic of the market system, someone who scorned all businesses as inherently exploitative. Over the years, I encountered problems too big to be fixed without entrepreneurship, business smarts, and market-based solutions. I continued
to reject the incarceration industry, the military-petroleum complex, and Wall Street's gamblers. But I learned to distinguish between predatory and productive capital, between irredeemable and more responsible forms of capitalism. I became a champion for business solutions that uplift people and the planet.

In 2008, I cofounded Green for All, a national advocacy and technical assistance organization that promotes green jobs for disadvantaged communities. I had debuted the concept at the Clinton Global Initiative in autumn 2007. Our official public launch event was held in Memphis, Tennessee, on April 4, 2008—the fortieth anniversary of Dr. King's assassination in that city. The conference was called “The Dream Reborn,” and it attracted more than one thousand unlikely environmentalists, mostly people of color from urban centers who were looking for new pathways to prosperity for their communities. After that summit, elected officials from every level of government began calling our office, seeking advice about how to attract green businesses. Since its founding, Green for All has helped cities and businesses create thousands of green jobs.

Along with a few other leaders, I became something of a national spokesperson for the cause. I started making bigger speeches and speaking out on national television. My first book,
The Green Collar Economy
, debuted as a best-seller in the fall of 2008. I was elated when presidential hopefuls started using the terminology of “green jobs” and “green-collar jobs,” including a candidate named Barack Obama.

AFTER OBAMA'S VICTORY
, lots of people I knew in the energy and environment field volunteered to help out his transition team. Like thousands of other people, I was proud to have acted as a volunteer policy advisor to his campaign, but I was not a part of Team
Obama's inner circle. I had met Obama a few times, but I did not know him well.

I flew to Washington in December 2008 to share my thinking with one of the transition team's working groups. I came away completely impressed by the professionalism of the operation and quality of the team.

Afterword, I started to hear rumblings that some of my supporters were encouraging Team Obama to consider me for a job in the administration. The president-elect had run for office promising millions of clean energy jobs, and he was going to need someone in the White House to make sure that the programs were properly implemented. I put little stock in these rumors. Hundreds of thousands of people were sending in résumés, and I had not done so. As a result, I was unprepared for the call, when it came.

“You have done such a terrific job helping out during the transition,” said Carol Browner, who had been designated to direct the White House Office of Energy and Climate Change Policy. “I was wondering, do you have an appetite for government service?”

At first, I thought she was asking for my perspective on the proper balance between community service, private investment, and the public sector—a debate that had been raging in green jobs' circles during the transition. I tried to give her a nuanced policy answer.

She tried again. “No, I mean, do you personally have an appetite for government service—for yourself? Have you ever thought about serving in the government?”

Holy shit. I realized that the White House really was considering me for a job. I stammered and stumbled. I had not thought seriously about the possibility.

In truth, I had very little reason to say yes. I had finally made a great life for myself on the West Coast. I had my dream job at
Green for All. My wife had just given birth to our second son, and we had recently moved out of our tiny, cramped condo into a cute home in a friendly neighborhood. The Ella Baker Center was thriving under my successor, Jakada Imani. After fifteen years of hard work, I was finally achieving the life that I had dreamed of.

On the other hand, I could see how I might be of real help to the administration. I was in my early forties and in the unusual position of being at the top of two fields: human rights advocacy and green jobs policy. I had produced the Social Equity Track for the 2005 United Nations' World Environment Day, which had the theme of “green cities.” I had served as a senior fellow at the Center for American Progress. I had been the recipient of many prestigious awards, including the Ashoka Fellowship and the World Economic Forum's “Young Global Leader” designation.
Time
magazine had just named me an environmental hero. If the administration needed someone to coordinate its green jobs work, I was among a handful of people with both the standing and the qualifications to do so.

Still, I was uncertain. I told my wife, “I would have to leave you and the boys here and move across the country. You wouldn't be able to relocate until summer, and you would have to quit your job to do so. How would that work? Plus, how am I going to find a worthy successor for Green for All on this kind of timeline?”

She listened patiently. “Yes, it would be inconvenient for us,” she acknowledged. “But look at the Obamas. How inconvenient has this whole thing been for them? They have those two little girls. Think about how hard that must be. If the president's team thinks you can help in any way, I don't think we have the right to say no.”

She was right. I agreed to submit myself for vetting, while I tested the waters to see if I could find a successor. Within days, I
had found a rising star in the labor movement who was better qualified than I was to lead a national organization. When Phaedra Ellis-Lamkins said she was willing to take the reins, I took that as a positive sign and maybe some divine encouragement.

I WAS STILL MULLING THE JOB OFFER
, when the date of Obama's inauguration dawned. A good friend of mine, who was a top fund-raiser for the campaign, had gotten me two good tickets to the ceremonies.

On the night before the swearing in, I called my aunt, who had ridden from Tennessee up to Washington on a bus full of elderly church ladies. She had no plan to do anything but stand on a freezing street corner somewhere, hoping to be near a jumbotron. When I told her that my friend had a seated ticket for her, two hundred yards from Obama himself, she screamed into the phone,
“Anthony!?!? Don't do that to me!!! Don't fool me, now, boy!!!”

(Anthony is my birth name; Van is a nickname from college.)

I said, “No, ma'am. I am serious. My good friend knows Mr. Obama, personally. So I told my buddy about you and our family, and all we went through integrating Madison County. And he said you
must
have a seat. He said you cannot be standing. So I am sitting here, with your ticket in my hand.”

She started sobbing. “I've been praying to Jesus about this!!! I prayed about this!!! Thank you, Lord, thank you!”

I found my aunt in the dark, Washington, DC, cold at 6 a.m. on Inauguration Day. We made it through security, and we sat together throughout the ceremony. She never said a word. She just watched silently, with her head held high. Afterward, we made our way back out through the hundreds of thousands of people. She was still silent. She had never been to Washington before. I got her
to a good place where she could see the White House from a prime angle.

She stood there staring at it. “My, Lord, Anthony. It is even more beautiful when you can see it for yourself. When you can just look at it with your own eyes.” I agreed. As we turned away, she grabbed the back of my jacket, so as not to lose her balance. And I heard her say, softly, to nobody in particular, “And now it is
ours
, everyone's. It belongs to everyone here. God almighty!”

I hadn't even told her about the job offer. But I decided then and there to take it.

ON MARCH
9, 2009, the White House announced that I had been appointed to the position of Special Advisor for Green Jobs, Enterprise, and Innovation at the White House Council on Environmental Quality (CEQ). CEQ is a part of the executive office of the president of the United States.

CEQ chair Nancy Sutley released the statement: “Van Jones has been a strong voice for green jobs and we look forward to having him work with departments and agencies to advance the President's agenda of creating twenty-first-century jobs that improve energy efficiency and utilize renewable resources. Jones will also help to shape and advance the administration's energy and climate initiatives with a specific interest in improvements and opportunities for vulnerable communities.”

My title was long and awkward, but it was the perfect position for me. I did not report directly to the president. The CEQ chair did that; I reported to her. I was assigned to coordinate activities and make recommendations to my Senate-confirmed superiors.

Later the right-wing media dubbed me “Obama's green czar.” This misnomer wildly misstated my level of authority. As I repeatedly
told the press, I had no special powers. I was more like the administration's green “handy man,” going around making sure that everything was working properly. My office was not even inside the White House proper. I could be inside the West Wing within six minutes if I needed to be, but ordinarily I worked across the street in a row of stately town houses. The executive office of the president of the United States is spread out through many buildings, not just the White House. Nonetheless, I was proud to be working there.