I served our nation as a civil servant. I experienced the stress, financial impact, and uncertainty. My children were impacted too. What made it worse was hearing public speculation about a bloated government with no empathy, compassion, or even understanding of what it truly means to dedicate your life to service and then be unappreciated and disregarded like pawns in a chess game we do not even play.
The federal government has already experienced two shutdowns in 2026.
But they are not the same story.
The first, a brief four-day lapse from January 31 to February 3, followed a familiar pattern: a broad breakdown in federal funding affecting much of the government. Similar to past shutdowns, the disagreement centered largely on overall spending levels and how funds should be allocated. Hundreds of thousands of employees were furloughed, and many more were required to work without pay until an agreement was reached.
The second shutdown, which began on February 14, is fundamentally different in both scope and cause. Rather than a government-wide funding gap, this lapse is largely confined to the Department of Homeland Security, impacting a workforce of roughly 260,000 employees. And unlike the earlier shutdown, the disagreement is not limited to spending levels. It is driven by a standoff over policy, specifically whether certain immigration and border-related provisions must be included as a condition of funding the department at all.
As of this writing, the shutdown has stretched to six weeks, leaving many federal employees to endure three missed paychecks.
That distinction matters. Disputes over spending levels, while difficult, are often resolved through negotiation and compromise. Policy disputes tied to deeply held positions are harder to untangle, extending uncertainty for the workforce caught in the middle.
They are not faceless bureaucrats.
They are people like Sally, a program specialist who has reported to work every day since mid-February without a paycheck. Last week, she stood in a grocery store aisle with her phone calculator open, subtracting items one by one to stay under budget. She quietly canceled her daughter Annie’s birthday party—telling her they would “do something special later.” Being told she will receive back pay someday offers little comfort when the due dates are not someday. They are now.
They are people like Marcus, a logistics coordinator and Army veteran who takes pride in being the one who makes things happen when communities are in crisis. He is still working, because he is essential, but the mortgage company does not accept “essential” as a form of payment. He and his wife have started deciding which bills can wait and which cannot, a conversation no family wants to have, especially when it comes without warning and without end.
They are people like Elena, furloughed with no paycheck at all, sitting at home refreshing news feeds between helping her kids with homework. She wants to be working. She wants to contribute. Instead, she is left in limbo, professionally sidelined, financially strained, and carrying the quiet anxiety of not knowing when normal life resumes. Back pay is promised, but in a moment like this, promise feels abstract. Rent is not.
These dedicated civil servants chose a position of service where they knew they would never be rich. They did not expect to be ridiculed, used, and lately all but forgotten. There is little coverage of the shutdown and even less about those paying the price. I have not forgotten.
The rest of us have an opportunity and a responsibility. Speak up. Reach out to your elected leaders. Remind them that behind every shutdown are real people, public servants and their families, who are carrying the weight of decisions they did not make. Funding the government is not an abstract exercise. It is a commitment to the men and women who show up every day in service to this nation. They have upheld their end of that commitment. It is time for their government to uphold its end as well.
We can and should also reach out to civil servants we know and lend an ear, help where we can, and at the very least tell them, thank you. We see you.
Because service should never mean sacrifice without support.
We cannot change the forces that move above us, but we can plant seeds of understanding and nurture those who serve.
Dan Stoneking is the Owner and Principal of Stoneking Strategic Communications, the Author of Crisis Communications and Emergency Management and Cultivate Your Garden, the Founder and Vice President of the Emergency Management External Affairs Association, and an Adjunct Professor in the Communications Department at West Chester University.
