It's so sad to see how few people in the Obama administration

Foster Friess, a man of commerce and philanthropy, once spoke with sharp lament: “It’s so sad to see how few people in the Obama administration have any private sector experience.” In this judgment lies a timeless concern—that those entrusted with the governance of nations may lose touch with the pulse of common life if they have never toiled in the realm where livelihoods are earned, risks are taken, and the fruits of labor rise or fall upon the wisdom of action. For the private sector is the workshop of enterprise, the crucible where dreams are tested against reality, and without such knowledge, rulers may govern in abstraction, far from the sweat and struggle of their people.

The origin of this lament stretches deep into history. From the republics of Greece and Rome to the assemblies of modern democracies, citizens have feared rulers who live only in theory. The philosopher who never farms, the general who never fights, the minister who never trades—all risk becoming architects of fine plans that collapse upon contact with the world. Friess’s sorrow is thus not only political but ancient: the recognition that the balance of power requires leaders who know not only the scroll and the law, but also the plow and the market.

History abounds with examples that confirm his cry. Consider Cincinnatus, the Roman farmer who was called from his plow to defend the republic. He knew both the labor of the soil and the demands of leadership. Because he understood the weight of real toil, he ruled with humility, then returned to his fields when his duty was done. His greatness came not from isolation in halls of theory, but from his grounding in the real work of the people. Compare this to rulers who, untouched by labor, imposed heavy burdens they did not themselves understand, and whose reigns collapsed in arrogance.

Or ponder the rise of Abraham Lincoln, born of frontier hardship, raised in poverty, acquainted with axe and ledger before he entered law and politics. His private sector struggles—running a small store, working as a rail-splitter—taught him not only endurance but empathy. Thus, when he became President, he carried with him the wisdom of those who live by the strength of their hands. It was this grounding that gave his speeches their moral authority and his policies their human weight. Lincoln’s example is a living testament to Friess’s truth: leaders formed only in government chambers risk detachment, but those forged in the struggles of common life govern with the heart of the people.

The deeper meaning of Friess’s lament is this: governance requires balance. Scholars and public servants are necessary, for they bring learning and continuity. But so too are those who have tasted the sharp winds of risk, the uncertainty of wages, the urgency of building something from nothing. Without such voices, policies may become elegant on paper but ruinous in practice. A leader without private sector experience may legislate without understanding, like a captain steering without ever having felt the sea beneath his keel.

The lesson, O seekers of wisdom, is that true leadership must unite both worlds: the world of theory and the world of practice, the world of governance and the world of work. If you would lead, first labor; if you would command, first serve; if you would legislate, first live among the people you govern. The wisdom of life cannot be learned only from books or offices—it must be drawn from the very struggles of existence.

Practical wisdom follows: seek in your leaders not only eloquence, but also evidence of toil; not only ideals, but also experience. And in your own life, strive to balance knowledge with action. Learn, but also do. Dream, but also build. For it is in the union of vision and labor that both nations and souls find their strength.

Thus Foster Friess’s lament endures as a caution for every age: leaders without private sector experience risk losing the wisdom of the people. Let us, then, choose and become leaders who do not shut themselves away in the high towers of abstraction, but who, grounded in the struggles of real life, guide with both wisdom and compassion. For only then shall governance reflect the heartbeat of those it serves.