For six decades, Washington has waged a War on Poverty with ever‑increasing sums of money. According to the House Budget Committee, federal means‑tested welfare spending now exceeds $1 trillion a year, with more than $12 trillion projected over the next decade. When counted as income for recipients, all that spending has reduced poverty, even as it has left growing numbers dependent on government benefits instead of their own work and earnings. In too many communities, dependency has become entrenched rather than reduced.
Another costly legacy of the War on Poverty is that this system has become increasingly vulnerable to waste, fraud, and abuse. Recent scandals in Minnesota, where billions of dollars in taxpayer funds were lost or misused, are not isolated anomalies — they are symptoms of a structure that rewards volume, not results. Congress has built a web of open‑ended entitlements where federal dollars automatically grow as caseloads rise, while accountability and outcome‑based incentives lag far behind.
One crucial question has gone largely unasked: Why is our welfare system so vulnerable to dependence and fraud in the first place? A second question naturally follows: Why do we keep trying to fix that only from Washington?
For many Americans, federalism is something they vaguely recall from civics class, not a living framework for solving problems. But the Constitution still divides power for a reason. Alaska is not Mississippi. California is not Michigan. Their economies, labor markets, demographics, and costs of living differ dramatically. A one‑size‑fits‑all welfare model designed in Washington and imposed nationwide ignores those differences and often fails everywhere in the same way.
We have, however, seen what happens when Washington sets broad goals and lets states lead. In 1996, then-President Bill Clinton signed into law welfare reforms crafted by congressional Republicans working closely with the nation’s governors. The old Aid to Families with Dependent Children program was scrapped and replaced with the Temporary Assistance for Needy Families block grant. Instead of open‑ended federal funding that grew automatically with caseloads, states received fixed funds and the flexibility to design programs that emphasized work and personal responsibility.
The results were striking. Welfare caseloads fell by more than 80% over time. Work among never‑married mothers, the group most likely to be on welfare, rose sharply. Earnings increased, and poverty declined. Governors of both parties used their flexibility to tailor programs to their own states, and front‑line workers could focus on helping families overcome barriers to employment rather than simply processing paperwork.
That success has been largely forgotten. TANF remains a rare example of federalism working mostly as intended in social policy. The rest of the welfare system, especially even larger programs such as food stamps and Medicaid, never received the same treatment. They remain open‑ended entitlements, heavily prescriptive from Washington, vulnerable to fraud, and appropriated in ways that often discourage or even prohibit state‑level innovation. Congress has tended to respond to problems by spending more and writing more rules, not by trusting states to try different approaches.
Reform today should start by restoring that federalist balance. Washington’s role should be to provide predictable funding, set clear goals, ensure program integrity, and measure outcomes. States should have more accountability for results while being given far more authority and flexibility to design the strategies — whether through stronger work expectations for able‑bodied adults, targeted supports that help families transition to employment, or new models that reflect local realities. The aim is not to abandon the War on Poverty, but to finally fight it effectively by aligning incentives with results.
The timing could not be more consequential. In 2026, voters in at least 39 jurisdictions — 36 states and three territories — will elect governors. Nearly half the country will choose new chief executives in a single election cycle.
These campaigns should not be consumed by national theatrics or purely federal debates. Candidates for governor should be talking about poverty, about how to help families break cycles of dependency, about how to restore integrity to programs plagued by fraud, and about how they, as state leaders, will improve the lives of their constituents. Voters deserve to hear concrete plans for what their state will do differently, not just echoes of Washington talking points but clear agendas for legislative action and program reforms to replace failed policies.
With so much turnover in state leadership, 2026 is a rare opportunity to reset the nation’s approach to poverty. The president should help seize that moment by championing reforms that strengthen families and promote less dependence while devolving more authority to the states, inviting the next generation of governors to lead the search for answers in the 50 laboratories of democracy.
If not now, when?
