Howling into the wind

You know what they say about folks who do the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result? For 20 years, this column has dug into municipal budgets. It has been a generous vein to mine. For two decades I reminded readers that it took just $10.3 million of property taxpayer funds to run the business of the County in 1998 (the year the County was formed). And there were 25,000 folks here then. I would then point out that it now costs five times that amount ($54 million sought in 2025)—for the same number of people.

I would then point out that your property taxes (and user fees) are rising much faster than other household expenses. I would show that if the municipality had managed to control spending somewhere near the pace of inflation, the property taxpayers would be paying tens of millions of dollars less than is taken from them each year.

I might illustrate this point by showing how municipal spending leaves those living on fixed incomes farther behind every year. And every year, that gulf widens. I may mention, too, that if residents were forced to choose between paying their taxes and water bills or their kids’ food and clothing, they could ask Shire Hall to help them out. A symptom of the disease dressed up as kindness.

But it turns out that telling that story every year has had little impact. Explaining it in charts and anecdotes has not slowed the steep upward trajectory. Readers have been given a window into grotesque sausage-making exercise annually, but it has failed to temper Shire Hall’s enthusiasm for wanting more.

About 30 ambitions gather in council chambers each year, looking for a bigger slice of a growing pie. They go through the motions. In earnest at first, digging through the pages. Then the energy trails and attention flags. On or about day three, someone could sneak a live elephant unnoticed into Shire Hall trailed by a dozen toreadors spinning plates on sticks. By day four I expect IT staff could get a nuclear submarine approved without scrutiny into the municipal budget. It is a bad process. Obvious to everyone—which leaves folks to conclude it was made this way.

I’m rounding my second decade on this file, so I’m taking a different tack this year—a sunnier, more prescriptive approach.

The first big reform: Throw away the 205- page binder. Rather than wading through hundreds of pages of tables of numbers and photographs of pumps and brochures of things staff would like to buy—Council and residents would instead be presented with two pages: Operation spending on one page. Capital plans on another. (Waterworks would be done in a similar way, but later. Or sooner. Just not in the same intense waterboarding session. Preferably, a dedicated utility governance group would review those budgets in a different setting and report back to the council. That’s another column. Or a previous one. I’m losing track.)

A single page for the operations of a business that spends $54 million? Yep. Such a page exists in the current binder, but it is buried on page 141. I will leave it to readers to determine why the binder’s most critical page is in the back half of a four-pound book.

Council, I pray you spend your budget days asking questions from this page. Don’t allow the big picture to be blurred by an endless blizzard of tables and numbers. Flipping dizzyingly from tab to tab. This is governance—it isn’t an audit. Come prepared. And ask direct questions.

Go through the operations page line by line. The General Government line is up by almost a million dollars next year over 2023. Why? What service are you providing that you didn’t provide last year and the year before? Do we need it? Can we do without it? What would be the impact if the municipality managed with the same amount it spent in 2023? Have a conversation. Ask questions until you get satisfactory answers—until you understand it and can explain it to the average person in the grocery store.

Next line: Protection services. Up 12.5 per cent. Why? Why does the OPP need 15 per cent more to police a pastoral community of seniors? Where there is almost no crime?

Move down the page in a deliberate and predictable way. No surprises. No gotcha scenarios. Just direct and reasonable questions to professionals who must be prepared to defend proposed budget increases and capital plans.

If costs are rising more than last year—more than the cost of living—someone needs to explain why. Simply, clearly and with backup evidence. They must persuade a majority of the governance team that something will break if the money isn’t forthcoming. (Because contrary to some council members’ perception, rising municipal costs are transforming this community and defining who can live here and who cannot.)

Same process for capital. But early on in this conversation— I suggest the County manager pull up a comfy chair, gather Council close around and have a heart-toheart talk. ‘We can’t afford County roads. We can’t afford 49. We can’t afford a new long-term care home. We can’t afford 88 crumbling buildings” [Then lowering her voice to a near whisper] “We can’t afford the ambition. One day, we must learn to live within our means.”

I’m not holding my breath. I expect budget talks next week will happen as they have done for the past 20 years—with Shire Hall staff leading Council down a confusing, sometimes obtuse and, more often than not, pointlessly complex labyrinth. They will wave away the inconsistencies, the gaps and the inexplicable.

But here is the thing. This isn’t about me or my taxes and user fees. It’s about a municipal institution that is increasingly out of touch with the residents it serves. Worse, it seemingly feels little compunction to explain, let alone justify, its decisions.

Folks will put up with a lot—until they don’t. Maybe it’s not that sunny after all.

rick@wellingtontimes.ca