Who am I?

I’m “William” (William A. for “Anonymous”) Finnegan (my nom de plume, it’s not my real name, no I’m not the surfer, no, I’m not the author who writes for the New Yorker - I wish, or the actor, or the director, or about 1000 other “William Finnegans” out there.), and this is my Substack, where I write about policy, law, history, economics, and national political issues with the kind of firsthand experience that doesn’t come from watching cable news.

I chose the name (William Finnegan) semi-randomly, utterly unaware that about 20 billion William Finnegans were out there. I have given up trying to come up with original ideas. I do that for a living, and man it’s hard. I just didn’t do my homework, I guess, this time. I didn’t give it a ton of thought until after I started writing. I didn’t expect to become such a “hit” so quickly on Substack. We had over a thousand subscribers in a week and paying subscribers to boot. That’s when I suddenly realized there were other people named “Finnegan.” Oops.

I’m not trying to cash in on anyone else’s glory—honestly, I’m not. When the name came to mind, I thought of Robert Preston’s character in Finnegan Begin Again—though his name was Michael Finnegan. I’ve always liked the name William, so that’s how it happened. It wasn’t until later that I realized I’d inadvertently picked a name already attached to about 20 famous people: an author/surfer, director, actor, activist, politician, and more (I’ve had all kinds of inquiries. One was if I was someone’s ex-husband, which no, I’m not.) And if changing it on Substack wasn’t such a hassle, I probably would. But here we are.

Now, you might be wondering why I’m writing under a pseudonym in the first place. The short answer: I have another business, and this Substack—my hobby—shouldn’t intersect with it. In today’s world, people can’t discuss political or cultural issues without completely losing their minds. In my business life, I’m relatively high-profile. In my prior political life, I was also relatively high-profile. Those two identities shouldn’t collide. The “new me” runs an advertising agency; the “old me” was a politico, and I’m leveraging that experience to write again. I miss politics. I enjoy writing. I found Substack and was like, “Oh wow! Awesome!” That’s how this started.

Ideally, in America, we’d be able to separate politics and business, but that’s not the world we live in.

Most of my clients wouldn’t agree with my views, and that’s fine—I think most of their political beliefs are wildly uninformed, oversimplified, and just plain wrong. But that’s not why we’re working together. They don’t hire me for political advice; they hire me for business services. And while I doubt they’d normally care about my politics, they’d probably take offense, internalize it, and let it impact our business relationship. So, to avoid unnecessary drama, I keep a “secret identity.” It’s win-win.

Why should you listen to me?

Great question.

I have a degree in economics from one of the leading universities in the US. I was on a full-ride scholarship at George Washington University, working on my PhD in political science. They were paying me to go to school. That was the plan—until 9/11 happened.

At the time, I was teaching courses in international relations. I had also taught law and politics at a Big-10 University. Despite years of trying (unsuccessfully) to land a government job, I got a phone call while shopping at Tysons Corner Mall in McLean, Virginia. The guy on the other end of the line—who would become one of my best friends—had an offer:

"Come work for me at the Pentagon. Special operations. National security issue. Big deal."

Sounded glamorous. Then came the kicker:

1. The issue was deeply controversial.

2. It was stressful, complicated, and politically radioactive.

3. Oh, and he couldn’t pay me.

"You can’t pay me?" I asked. "I didn’t think working for free in the government was a thing."

"It isn’t, really," he said. "But I need someone with your skills. You in or not?"

I asked one question: "Am I going to be instrumental in helping to kill bad guys?"

He said, "Yes."

I said, "Then I’m in."

And just like that, I walked into a five-year odyssey at the Pentagon. Eventually, I was appointed by President Bush as a political appointee, thanks to my work in Republican politics and my reputation for being blunt but right.

I’ve testified before Congress. Briefed Presidents. Met with foreign leaders, dignitaries, and intelligence officials. You won’t find me on TV because the work I did wasn’t the kind of thing you wanted to see on TV. But I’ve been in the White House Situation Room. I’ve been in “The Tank” at the Pentagon. I’ve sat in Gang of Eight briefings where the stuff discussed was so sensitive it was practically classified out of spite.

Politics wasn’t new to me by then. I started working for Bill Frenzel, a Republican Congressman from Minnesota, before moving on to his successor, Jim Ramstad. I worked for the RNC back when "Republican" meant small government and lower taxes—not whatever the hell it means today.

I’ve shaped laws and policies that are still in place today. I’ve written speeches delivered by cabinet officials and even Presidents. Many of the people you see on TV? I’ve worked with them, briefed them, argued with them, and—on occasion—told them when they were being foolish. Even today, I keep in touch, I push ideas to them. I don’t take credit. I don’t need to. Every once in a while, I just like seeing a good idea become policy. These days, it’s a bit strange because I play for a new team, having switched sides after 28 years. I’m not a Democrat, but I’m no longer a Republican (which should be obvious reading my writing.) I guess I’m a stranger in a strange land nowadays.

So why write now?

Because I’m free to, my livelihood isn’t tied to Washington. I run a successful advertising agency, where I trade words and ideas for money. Politics is a hobby. Writing is a form of relaxation. I like writing. I like teaching. I like politics. I like travel. I found Substack. I get to do all the things I like. I might even get paid for doing it.

What’s not to like about that?

And that PhD?

Did 99% of the work. Passed my exams. But during my final stretch, I was getting paged—yes, paged—by the Deputy Secretary of Defense on one hand and scolded by my professors on the other.

"You’re wasting your intellect!" they told me.

I showed them my pager.

"This is the Deputy Secretary of Defense. I have a choice: I can study national policy, or I can make it. I have to go."

And I went. That was 20 years ago.

Now, I write. If you’re here, maybe you’ll stick around. Maybe you’ll even learn something. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll rethink what you thought you knew about how this country really works.

Welcome to the conversation.

Why subscribe?

Why subscribe to my Substack? Because it’s not just another blog about politics or policy. It’s a conversation rooted in experience, sharp analysis, and stories you won’t find on cable news or the drivel everyone else regurgitates.

I’ve read a lot of the work on Substack. Some of it is good, most is average, and some is just terrible. Only a handful of stacks have I seen that offer genuine insights. That’s where I felt I could make an impact.

I’ve been in the rooms where it happens—the Pentagon’s Tank, the White House Situation Room, Gang of 8 briefings. I’ve briefed Presidents, written speeches for cabinet officials, and shaped laws and policies still in place today. For years, some of the most influential people in Washington relied on my memos, advice, and ability to cut through the noise. I understand law, policy, history, and economics, and I also understand how to present complicated ideas relatively simply to an educated audience.

I write with intellectual honesty, not because I have to, but because I want to. I like teaching. I like learning. I like reading. I like engaging with people.

And that makes all the difference.

I’m not here to preach or tell you what to think. From my own reader surveys, most of my readers have college and advanced degrees (almost 80%). You already know how to think. I’m here to share stories from my time in public service, offer sharp insights into policy and politics, and help you make your conclusions. Whether I’m writing about a memo from the President, how policy decisions get made, or why I think you should write letters to people in power, my goal is to give you context and perspective. I talk about things that most people won’t discuss from a perspective that most people do not have.

I’m not afraid to laugh at myself either. Like the time my professors scolded me for “wasting my intellect” while I was being paged by the Deputy Secretary of Defense. Or when my wife teased me for forgetting to include my phone number in a letter to the President. (For the record, if President Biden wants to call me, I think he’ll manage to find my number.)

You won’t find outrage or clickbait here (although I get accused of that occasionally; it’s not on purpose. Sometimes, I’m provocative unintentionally.) You’ll find thoughtful commentary grounded in experience, written with wit and humility. I don’t have an axe to grind or a partisan agenda to push, although I do have a position on national issues. I’ve lived enough of this life to know that most people, even the ones we argue with, are just trying to do their best. That said, I don’t suffer fools or tyrants all too well.

I’ve also got stories—plenty of them. Stories about writing speeches for Cabinet officials, briefing members of Congress, or fielding calls from foreign dignitaries. Stories about navigating controversial issues at the Pentagon or sitting in classified briefings so secret they were practically classified out of spite. Stories that pull back the curtain on how government really works (and sometimes doesn’t).

If you’re tired of the noise, the spin, and the endless partisan bickering, this is the place for you. This Substack isn’t just about politics or policy—it’s about the human side of public service, the lessons I’ve learned, and the things I wish more people understood about how this country works.

Right now, I think that’s needed. That’s what my writing focuses on the most: helping people understand how things should work so that they can decide how to take action to make that a reality.

By the way, it won’t always be about politics. Sometimes, I’ll write on economics and finance as well.

I hope you enjoy reading. I am always willing to respond to genuine feedback and comments. Feel free to drop me a line.