Rebuild the Dream (6 page)

I sat down and thought about it. Beck's ravings were one thing. But now the national press was forming its own negative opinion, based on the videotape of me dissing the GOP and these bizarre truther allegations. My life had been interesting, and I had been candid over the years. Who knew what else there was to dig up and sensationalize? All I needed was one more headline and the most fair-minded person in the world would have to ask: Why is this guy in the White House? All of my credentials, which had once seemed so dazzling, suddenly seemed pretty insignificant.

It was September 2009. We were trying to reset the conversation regarding the health care fight. Protesters calling themselves Tea Partiers had spent all of August disrupting Congress's Town Hall meetings, screaming about death panels, socialism, and czars. I had emerged as the perfect target for all their venom and hatred.

My superiors in the White House assured me they would stand by me. Progressive groups were lining up to launch a huge public fight for me, just after Labor Day. But I had to make a decision. Do we expend our bullets trying to defend, explain, and contextualize everything in my colorful past—day after day, for weeks and possibly months? We knew the president's opponents were going to keep trying to make “Van Jones” the issue. Or should I quit so the
team could put 100 percent of the focus back on fighting for health care for America's families?

To me, that was a no-brainer. We had the first black president, trying to bring home a victory on health care. I didn't want to be a banana peel for him. The White House didn't call me and ask me to resign; I picked up the phone and told them I was quitting.

I was not going to allow myself to become a distraction from the long-sought goal of guaranteeing healthcare for everyone. At that stage, fighting back against
Fox News
would have only fed the fire. I was not about to let that happen. So six months after accepting the honor, I walked away from the best job I ever had.

On September 6, 2009, I released this statement: “I am resigning my post at the Council on Environmental Quality, effective today. On the eve of historic fights for health care and clean energy, opponents of reform have mounted a vicious smear campaign against me. They are using lies and distortions to distract and divide. I have been inundated with calls from across the political spectrum, urging me to ‘stay and fight.' But I came here to fight for others, not for myself. I cannot in good conscience ask my colleagues to expend precious time and energy defending or explaining my past. We need all hands on deck, fighting for the future. It has been a great honor to serve my country and my president in this capacity. I thank everyone who has offered support and encouragement. I am proud to have been able to make a contribution to the clean energy future. I will continue to do so in the months and years ahead.”

It is easy to say, “Oh, you should have just fought until the bitter end.” But what if that distraction had cost us the health-care victory? You only have so many battles you can fight, even in the White House—especially in the White House. Politics at that level is like “speed chess” meets “Mortal Kombat.” One has a very narrow timeframe to make decisions—with massive consequences for every single American.

At any rate, nobody stays in the White House forever, not even the president. You serve as long as you can, and when your time comes, you step aside. I had just hoped to have more time.

IN THE OLD MEDIA ENVIRONMENT
, the best advice was often to refrain from rebutting a nasty charge for fear of amplifying it or “dignifying” it. In today's media environment, nasty charges and lies left unchallenged can multiply, generate feedback loops, and amplify themselves until they appear as truth.

I believe that it would still be possible for someone with an unusual background to serve at the highest levels of government, but the White House would need to spotlight any controversial bits early and make the case for the hire, anyway. As it was, by the time we considered fighting back, we were already very much on the defensive—and the timing would have been awful for the president's agenda.

Even though resigning was the right move for the team, I sometimes felt deeply ashamed for not standing up to the bullies who were attacking us. I had seen myself as a pretty tough guy. After all, I spent years challenging bad cops, defending young men whom others called criminals, marching in front of prisons. But when confronted by bullying on a national level, I felt overwhelmed and defeated. It took a long time for me to shake the depression and get my mojo back.

In hindsight, I understand better the differences between fighting to defend others and trying to defend oneself. Defending others is like breaking up a bar fight. You see someone getting hurt, and you jump in to help. Getting mugged in the parking lot is a different experience. In that situation, a person is a lot more likely to retreat, to find a place to hide, to freeze or flee, but not to fight. Once I understood that, I was able to forgive myself and move on.

IT TURNS OUT THAT THERE WAS A
very good reason that I could not remember seeing or signing that petition. I never saw it, and I never signed it.

Apparently, someone approached me at a 2004 conference, along with peace activist Jodie Evans and eco-innovator Paul Hawken. The person asked us if we would be willing to help 911 families, and we each said essentially, “Of course, let us know what we can do to help.” We did not know the group's agenda and were never shown any petition alleging a conspiracy. None of us would have signed such a document, had we seen it.

Finally, the
911Truth.org
organization admitted as much. On July 27, 2010, about ten months after I resigned, the group quietly posted a statement on its website, saying that its “former Board members researched the situation and were unable to produce electronic or written evidence that Van agreed to sign the statement. Based on what we were able to ascertain from memories, it is plausible he was asked verbally through an intermediary without reviewing the full text, as he has stated. Because we do not have a written signature, and his view is that he does not agree with the Statement, the current Board removed his signature as requested on Sept. 9, 2009, for the organization respects each person's right to have their views accurately represented.”

In other words, the organization that had told the world that I had “signed their petition” in fact never had my signature. At best, one of its members typed my name on a website, based on hearsay. Remarkably, no reporters who covered the story had ever asked to see my signature on any document; they just ran with the organization's unsubstantiated assertions. When the truth was
finally revealed months later, no news outlet printed a retraction or correction.

All three of us—myself, Evans, and Hawken—fought successfully to get our names removed from the website. I do not mind being criticized for controversial ideas that I actually have, like my support for gay marriage and my opposition to the death penalty. I do not even mind taking heat for unpopular views that I once had, like my earlier critique of capitalism. But nobody likes being criticized for wacky ideas that they never embraced and actively reject.

For a long time, I was pretty down in the dumps about the whole thing.

ABOUT A YEAR AFTER MY RESIGNATION
, I was at Al Gore's house, watching the returns from the 2010 elections. The Tea Party had already taken Ted Kennedy's seat away from the Democrats in January 2010, and now the news media was showing the whole country getting submerged under a sea of GOP red. Everyone in the room was morose. The former vice president stood up, looked at everyone, and said with a laugh, “You think this is bad? You should have been here ten years ago.” The 2000 election, controversially called in the end for George W. Bush, had been ten years prior, almost to the day. His joke helped everyone relax and keep some perspective. It was a welcome gesture of encouragement and an act of morale-boosting leadership in a tough moment.

I looked at Gore and remembered something. He had lost a much better job in the White House than I had lost, but he had never given up on his country. He went on to create Current TV, help Apple's turnaround, and change the global conversation on climate.

I decided to follow his example, shake off my blues, and find new ways to serve. After all, the economy needed new ideas more than ever. So I began the process of launching a new organization to propose economic solutions on an even broader scale. We call it Rebuild the Dream.

YOUR SUCCESSES GIVE YOU YOUR CONFIDENCE
, but your setbacks give you your character. People always ask me whether I harbor any ill will toward President Obama for not “defending me.” The answer is, absolutely not, because I never even thought about asking him to defend me. It is the job of a staffer to protect and defend the president, not the other way around. I knew the weight of responsibilities on his shoulders. I knew the impossible challenge our team was taking on with the health care fight. My job was to make my superiors' jobs easier, not harder.

A White House job is a privilege, not a right. I got to spend six months working there. That is six months longer than most people get—and six months longer than I ever expected to have. I always tell people: if you ever have the opportunity to serve at that level, even if it is written into the contract that you will have the same rough landing that I had—take the job! There is no experience like it.

My appreciation for President Obama deepens when I think of all that my father endured and achieved. For my father, just becoming the principal of an underrated public school was a nearly impossible dream. My boys are growing up in a world in which the most powerful man on Earth looks like them. The ceiling that my father always felt over his head will never exist in the same way for my sons.