It Might Hurt, but It’s Never Too Late for Your City To Say “No” on a Bad Project
Cities are required to make many long-term decisions. Infrastructure is, by its nature, a multigenerational investment and its maintenance is an eternally recurring obligation. When cities spend millions on roads, bridges, pipes and treatment facilities, they are taking actions today that obviously have consequences for their future residents.
Yet, cities are mostly run by people who are in decision-making positions for a just brief period of time. Council members serve for set terms and then face reelection. Appointed boards and commissions likewise experience regular turnover. Even senior city staff positions experience routine attrition. A 20-year-old study suggests that city managers typically serve for seven to eight years, although that seems high today. In my city, city manager turnover has been something closer to 18 months.
There’s a trope that city officials are politicians working to deliver bread and circuses to the masses before the next election. That’s a really cynical view that I don’t share. At the local level, it is my experience that most elected and appointed officials genuinely want to do good for their community and they work hard to make thoughtful and prudent decisions. Very few are in it for personal gain; most want to do the right thing for future generations (although, obviously, opinions differ on what the right thing might be).
If we believe that cities are run by good-faith actors, and if we acknowledge that these people are required to make long-term, multigenerational decisions, then what do we make of the seemingly endless instances where cities make decisions without considering their long-term financial consequences?
And, perhaps more painfully in my situation, what do we do when it seems like nobody learns the lesson?
Over a decade ago, the city staff in my hometown of Brainerd, Minnesota, leveraged a report by the state’s fire marshal requiring more fire protection at the airport into a multimillion-dollar utility expansion project they had long desired to build. I’m picking on staff here because they conceived and pushed the project, but it had plenty of political support. I felt like (and might have been) a lone voice against the project.
The local newspaper allowed me to write a column in opposition ("Say no to the airport project") and they, in turn, wrote one in support (cleverly titled, "Say yes to the airport project"). As you've probably realized if you tried to click on the link to their column, only mine survives on their website (here’s a link to theirs on Wayback, though). The exchange demonstrates how, as a 40-year-old, I thought I could win arguments with logic and word count. (Spoiler: I did not win the argument, though the editorial board did call me “articulate” — don’t tell my kids.)
The project was really simple: The airport sits over a mile outside of town. Running water and sewer to the airport would provide utility access to all the land in between. That land could then be developed and, since it is along a highway, Brainerd could get the kind of big box retail and franchise strip development that neighboring Baxter was getting.
The project was unaffordable, but the fire marshal’s letter would allow the city to be a priority grant request due to the desperation and necessity of meeting a state public health and safety mandate. (Note: There was no such mandate and the city’s needs could have been met with a tiny project. This is the kind of gaming that most cities do when seeking state and federal funding.)
Ultimately, the city was awarded $6.5 million from the state for the $7.1 million project. After change orders and lawsuits, the project ended up costing over $13 million, with the Brainerd Public Utilities (aka water and sewer ratepayers) paying the difference.
At the time, a small group of residents (including me) put together an alternative approach to prosperity. We called it “A Better Brainerd” and, using language from the council’s own stated priorities, issued a report called "Neighborhoods First." In that report, we detailed eight projects the city could do — from painting crosswalks to planting trees — that directly addressed a struggle people in the neighborhood were facing. The report included this return-on-investment analysis of the tax base needed to justify the airport project (at its original price tag) along with a federally funded stroad expansion project (College Drive Expansion) and our recommended projects.
It’s been a decade since the pipes were put in. Where is the $44 million+ in new investment along this corridor necessary to make this investment pay off? We’re still waiting. (For the record, we're still waiting on College Drive, too, although one could argue that the new ice machine should count.)
It’s been a decade and there is a new mayor, a mostly new council, and an entirely new senior staff. The cost of the airport project is now a sunk cost, money that has already been spent. Existing rate uses have absorbed the increased fees and things seem stable. With no growth and development along this corridor, what can be done?
Last month, the city council voted to waive sewer and water connection fees — fees that were supposed to help pay for the project — for the entire corridor. “I think we should be in for a penny, in for a pound,” said my ward’s council representative, who is one of the body’s members who voted for the penny (millions) back when we did the original project. This might feel like our city is doing something, but it looks like confused desperation. There is no real strategy. Heck, there is no longer even any acknowledgment that this was a public investment that we were told would have a payoff.
It is fair to ask me what I would do. I don’t have a good plan, at this point. This was a loser investment that never should have been made. It wasn’t made because there was a strategic vision and a solid plan; it was made because grant money was available and it felt like an investment in growth. I don’t think this project can be salvaged — we won’t ever get the tens of millions in investment necessary to make it work — and so I’d cut my losses.
That doesn’t mean digging up the pipe, which is going to be there until it falls apart. It does mean putting that infrastructure into the ledger of low-priority stuff that we are going to limit our financial exposure to and ultimately be willing to abandon when it goes bad. There won’t be a maintenance grant and so we’re surely never going to replace it. It will be there until it falls apart, and then people will need to make other arrangements. I’d logically try to limit the damage by not allowing any further extensions.
Then I would turn back to the "Neighborhoods First" report and its eight recommendations. None of these high-returning investments have been done. Although the original $16,000 price is in need of an update, this is still small change, even for this city. Deploying this kind of bottom-up approach throughout all our neighborhoods would represent a tiny fraction of our overall capital spending, but it would have a positive impact on our balance sheet and a dramatic impact on quality of life.
I just finished rereading "Seeing Like a State" by James C. Scott, a book that explains how complexity is driven out by top-down systems pursuing their own ends (often, again, in good faith). That book reminded me that cities used to be complex, bottom-up places focused on urgent local demands. The postwar Suburban Experiment simplified things primarily in pursuit of economic growth — maximizing the next few months of federal GDP — despite its impact on the financial solvency of cities, let alone things like human flourishing and prosperity.
My city should have said “no” to the airport utility grant money. We should have said “no” to the entire project. People working in good faith can do things differently. We’re not trapped. The best time to start building a Strong Town was decades ago. The next best time is now.
Charles Marohn (known as “Chuck” to friends and colleagues) is the founder and president of Strong Towns and the bestselling author of “Escaping the Housing Trap: The Strong Towns Response to the Housing Crisis.” With decades of experience as a land use planner and civil engineer, Marohn is on a mission to help cities and towns become stronger and more prosperous. He spreads the Strong Towns message through in-person presentations, the Strong Towns Podcast, and his books and articles. In recognition of his efforts and impact, Planetizen named him one of the 15 Most Influential Urbanists of all time in 2017 and 2023.