(Bloomberg) —
Just before the holidays, Houston voters elected John Whitmire as the city’s 63rd mayor, choosing the state senator over US Representative Sheila Jackson Lee in a hotly contested race. Before that two-person runoff, no fewer than 14 candidates were on the ballot.
And that raises a question: Why would so many people actually want that job?
Like so many US cities, Houston is facing a constellation of challenges. Schools are struggling and infrastructure is aging. Budgets are strained. There are fights over everything from zoning to police response, even as locals brace for the next hurricane or winter storm to swamp the place or overwhelm the power grid.
That’s not to pick on Houston, to be sure. It’s just that so many urban challenges — with climate-change-fueled natural disasters chief among them — are utterly beyond the control of any one City Hall. That could be why a recent Politico survey identified an uneasy post-pandemic era for municipal chief executives, who appear to be burning out and struggling with the demands of the gig.
Several survey respondents cited the tensions that came to a head during the Covid-19 crisis, as local leaders became targets of partisan outrage over public health measures and culture war fights. That anger appears to be lingering: Across the US, a host of big-city mayors are currently grappling with sagging approval numbers and restless voters.
“It has been a stressful time,” said Reno Mayor Hillary Schieve, president of the US Conference of Mayors, which is holding its winter meeting in Washington, DC, this week, with some 300 mayors — 45 of them new — in attendance. More than 81% of local electeds have experienced threats and harassment, according to a 2022 survey from the National League of Cities. Schieve recalled that she once found a GPS tracking device someone had attached to her car: “It makes people feel burned out.”
And yet, after interviewing 20 mayors from around the world over the last five years, I’ve come away with a better understanding of what inspires people like Schieve to show up every day. Being mayor of a city may feel thankless at times, but it’s a critical job in politics — and one that’s now being occupied by a lot of pragmatic, innovative, and yes, hopeful people.
The interviews — compiled in the new book, Mayor’s Desk: 20 Conversations with Local Leaders Solving Global Problems, published by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy — reveal leaders who have become true change agents in a relatively short period of time. (The forward for the book was written by Michael Bloomberg, the founder and majority owner of Bloomberg LP, which owns Bloomberg CityLab.) As a new class of urban mechanics, they have confronted the pandemic, racial reckoning, a housing affordability crisis and the terrible impacts of climate change with a steady understanding of policy and a flair for the creative. Consider:
- Randall Woodfin: As mayor of Birmingham, Alabama, Woodfin established a “command center” to manage the unprecedented amount of federal funding coming from the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law and the Inflation Reduction Act. That may sound like a boring bureaucratic detail, but it heads off a persistent problem: a lack of administrative capacity to adhere to compliance rules and fund the most worthy projects and programs, or worse, not spend the money at all. Woodfin promotes the importance of improving streetscapes, sidewalks and playgrounds in under-invested neighborhoods, but also acknowledges the grim realities of poverty: He’s part of a growing movement of mayors testing monthly universal income-style payments to single mothers. “The need is there for us to do every single thing we can to provide more opportunities for [residents] to be able to take care of their families,” he said.
- Kate Gallego: Extreme heat and water shortages continue to threaten the desert Southwest, and the two-term mayor of Phoenix has been adroit in framing steps to adapt to the new realities, in a region where some residents remain skeptical about climate change. The scale of her resilience-building ranges from promoting natural landscapes instead of water-hungry lawns to funding new infrastructure using green bonds. Harvard- and Wharton-trained in economic development and environmental policy, she told me that she espouses “data-driven leadership and science-based decision-making,” which seems to resonate with voters who are embracing density and public transit in the sprawling metropolis.
- Aftab Pureval: Cincinnati is among the inland cities tagged as potential “climate havens,” and its first Asian-American mayor is on guard against the gentrification that an influx of new residents could trigger. “No city in the country has figured out a way to grow without displacement,” he said, acknowledging a central dilemma for rebounding legacy cities. Like many of his peers, he has been surgical in his initiatives, and resourceful in mobilizing partners. Leveraging Port of Cincinnati financing to outbid institutional investors for nearly 200 single-family homes, the telegenic “Mayor Aftab” preserved affordable housing for first-time homebuyers and thwarted the now-familiar dynamic of outside forces buying up properties and jacking up rents.
- Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr: The mayor of Freetown, Sierra Leone, governs a city of 1 million that is wracked by issues of poverty, violence and climate change impacts that seem overwhelming. But Aki-Sawyerr, a no-nonsense finance professional, has calmly chipped away at the problems. She appointed Africa’s first chief heat officer and channeled philanthropic dollars to provide shade for open-air marketplaces where vendors, primarily women, are subjected to withering heat — a simple intervention that instantly improved health and quality of life.
This is by no means a comprehensive list, and hard-charging mayors are hardly exceptional over the history of cities. But it feels like a notable cohort for the 21st century. Common traits? A thick skin. Disciplined focus. The ability to communicate. And a little bit wonky.
Actually, a lot wonky. Many of these leaders can legitimately credit at least some of their success to an advanced understanding of urban planning and land use. Remember when 1988 presidential candidate Michael Dukakis got pilloried for considering “Swedish Land Use Planning” beach reading? This crew is a little like that, but somehow it’s become cooler to be fluent in zoning.
Their tactics combine a folksy relatability — think the trustworthy sort who volunteers to be treasurer of the parent-teacher association — with refreshingly earnest problem-solving. Miro Weinberger (Burlington, Vermont) and Jesse Arreguín (Berkeley, California) don’t present as particularly slick politicians, and that seems to help in the perception of their decision-making. Berkeley landlords sitting on desperately needed housing hoping to sell to the highest bidder in brazen real estate speculation? Institute a vacancy tax. Need to get Burlington to net-zero by 2030? Partner with the uncommon city-owned electric utility, so all the power comes from renewable sources. While these mayors lead two progressive enclaves, they aren’t acting like firebrands; instead, there’s a sober, do-your-job sensibility at work here.
This is not to say the job is ever 100% enjoyable, especially when the outside world comes crashing down on the day-to-day issues of local governance. Early in March 2020, Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf found herself on the front lines of the nascent pandemic when state and federal officials unexpectedly redirected the Grand Princess cruise ship and its Covid-infected passengers to the city’s port. Weeks later, with stay-at-home orders in place, Oakland also moved quickly to close streets to drivers to promote outdoor activities, setting an example that many other cities followed — but drawing criticism from constituents on aspects ranging from inconvenience to inequity. She also became a target of former President Donald Trump over immigration policies, which unfolded with typical rancor.
That hasn’t soured her on politics in the least, however. Having spent a couple of years in the nonprofit sector after being term-limited out of City Hall, Schaaf recently announced a run for California state treasurer later this year. “Anyone who’s the mayor of a major city has to be a bit on the optimistic side,” she said in her interview. “That’s what keeps us going, particularly in times like these.”
That’s the other thing about these mayors — a sense of upward mobility, like players on a political farm team. They seem to have just the right amount of ego and ambition to propel them on to other things, if they so choose. After I spoke to Boston Mayor Marty Walsh, he was chosen by President Joe Biden to be US Labor Secretary; another interviewee, Seoul Mayor Oh Se-hoon, is widely seen as a future candidate for president of Korea.
But “if they so choose” is key. As qualified as they may be for higher office, most of the mayors I spoke to seemed more than content to stay with their jobs and make meaningful change at home. It reminds me of a conversation with a top advisor to the late Boston Mayor Tom Menino many years ago, who told me how the five-term chief executive genuinely had no interest in doing anything else. “He doesn’t care if he’s on the cover of Time magazine,” the aide said.
So while this group might be full of rising stars, it’s reassuring that most will keep their shoulders to the wheel, dedicated to the work of making cities more equitable and sustainable. And proving that reports of burnout and misery in City Hall don’t tell the whole story.
— Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy and host of the Land Matters podcast .
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