People look to their local elected leaders to do things: from the granular – traffic signals, leaf pick-up – to the epic – housing for all, redressing systemic racism, “solving” mental health.
Yet, when I served on Charlottesville City Council, I learned my “span of control” was narrower than I had hoped.
Here are three reasons why.
The first concerns the actual, legal authority a local municipality possesses. Virginia, like most states, is a so-called Dillon Rule state (in contrast to “home rule” ones). Local municipalities are “creatures” of the state and its legislature. So, a local government can operate only within parameters granted by the Commonwealth.
To take a perennial request, it cannot institute “progressive taxation.” Moreover, property rights are strongly protected. If a landowner wants to build something that is “by right,” local environmental pushback is unlikely to stop them.
Such limitations can be frustrating.
Yet, on the whole, this seems wise. Imagine the chaos if every city, town or county could set its own framework about taxation or property rights. And there remains plenty of scope for local decision-making, not least around tax rates. Moreover, it should motivate jurisdictions to band together for what their regions need.
Such regionalism is crucial. It lowers the cost to taxpayers to meet a common need (e.g., a jail or a road). It also has a unifying effect between, for example, a city and its surrounding county. With strong partnerships regionally and with the state legislature, exciting things can happen.
A law was passed in Virginia to allow localities to tax plastic grocery bags. My city and then our neighboring county, Albemarle, did so. This shifted consumer habits from plastic to paper bags. Environmental groups report a notable decrease in the plastic that ends up in our waterways.
“Small” things can add up to major improvements in quality of life.
The second reason concerns the revenues of a local municipality, the levers it can pull to raise money. Like a family, a community can “get done” only what it has the money for. In truth, its options for raising money aren’t numerous, and they are blunt.
Far and away the largest source is real estate tax (roughly 60% of the total tax proper in my city). Yet this is nettlesome. On the one hand, that people have land and houses which appreciate in value is a good thing. And that a jurisdiction has that as a stable source of income is a positive.
Yet, the converse fact poses a huge challenge, for the cost of housing is an enormous drag on economic mobility. Moreover, even when house prices appreciate, and tax revenues increase, it may still not be adequate for the needs.
Tacking a rate increase on top of eye-watering assessments is, needless to say, unpopular. The same goes for meals, lodging, personal property (vehicles), sales and use, and other miscellaneous taxes (totaling roughly 40% of the total tax proper in my city).
In fact, the largest obligation a typical jurisdiction faces is one outside its direct control: the public schools. (Over 40% of the total tax proper in my city goes to school operations.)
In my city, we have a lovely kaleidoscope of ethnicities, income levels, and so on. So, the schools do more than teach; they’re a crucial part of our social safety net. Moreover, elected school boards set their own agendas, assert their own priorities.
The annual tug-of-war, between what the schools say they need and what officials can afford, can be painful. Jurisdictions do have other funding streams. Yet, none of these are, as it were, magical.
Utilities (gas, water, sewer) are funded via the rates consumers pay. Capital projects are funded by bonds (which have to be repaid by taxes). Transit is paid largely by the feds and the state. Various grants support specific programs or projects. Other jurisdictions may infuse money to fund a joint program. And so on.
Each source has its own specific rules and requirements. There just are no simple, pain-free ways to raise revenue. Most municipalities are (wisely) required to produce a balanced budget every year. So, each budget cycle involves a ruthless prioritizing of needs versus wants – a distinction that lies in the eye of the beholder. This is where a good strategic plan shows its value.
The final reason is philosophical. What is the proper remit of a local government? Conservatives take this narrowly (police and fire, road maintenance, trash pick-up); progressives (like my city) take it broadly (seeking “the epic”). In practice, my city partners with a range of non-profits, boards, and authorities to address social needs.
I came onto our City Council with an enthusiastically progressive mindset. The government, I thought, could do so much to lift people up! And it can, it should, and we did.
Yet, by the end, I had hardened somewhat. Take the unhoused. What is a municipality’s – not mine as a human nor other residents as humans – obligation here? Should the unhoused be sheltered and fed indefinitely? If not, what about sleeping rough? Is laissez-faire the ethical approach – no matter the impact on commerce or other residents? Or, should standards of conduct, defined places for sleeping rough, and so on be enforced?
Partners may have different goals (and, dare I say, incentives) than a municipality. It is a noble thing for a service provider to provide “radical hospitality” to the unhoused. Yet, if a knock-on effect is to impact nearby businesses and homeowners, then what is a local government to do? Those folks – the ones footing the bills, after all – have rights, too.
Such matters are thorny and can become quite contested. Residents expect their leaders to somehow “summarize” the electorate’s values and make a decision accordingly. Yet they may angrily react if that choice doesn’t reflect their own particular values or priorities.
Ultimately, “span of control” comes down to what voters permit or endorse. Which is as it should be.
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