Last time I told you about Upper Macungie Township, where township supervisors are trying to explain inflatable dolls and questionable township expenses to state regulators. Bill White believes the second class township code, which allows supervisors to hire themselves, is part of the problem. I agree, but think there's another reason.The Lehigh Valley is a fragmented mess, a challenge for any lover of jigsaw puzzles. It's a quagmire of Upper and Lower Saucons, Milfords, Macungies, Nazareths, and Mount Bethels. We've got North and South Whitehall, Allen and East Allen, Catty and North Catty, Bangor and East Bangor, and Easton and West Easton. We're a morass of 62 separate municipalities and 2 counties. On the local level, we elect 466 officials to represent 578,500 people, or 1 local and paid elected official for every 1240 residents. And this is without looking at our 17 school districts.
The Lehigh Valley is not unusual. Pennsylvania possesses "one of the nation's most labyrinthine systems of state and local government." Its 2566 municipalities is the third largest total of general governments in the nation, according to a recent Brookings Institute report.
So what's the big deal, you may ask. Isn't government supposed to be close to the people? Well, yes. But having so many of them has the opposite effect - it makes local government both weak and unresponsive. That's certainly what's going on in Upper Macungie. Let me give you some examples.
First, our fragmented governance enables developers to run roughshod over haphazard municipal land use plans and local zoning. That's why open space referenda are really just a joke. They do nothing but create little playlands for all the McMansions.
Second, because we're such a mess, the state can ignore us. Parochial concerns prevent us from agreeing on anything, whether it's the location of a baseball stadium or a casino. Municipalities compete over business locations, luring a business like Lehigh Valley Plastics from another location just a few miles away. State officials can play municipal officials against each other, which keeps them weak. We could be much more forceful if we were united.
Third, because we are so divided, unelected groups like the LVPC can set our agenda. Although much of the LVPC's work is excellent, their mandate does not come from the people, and that is reflected by their "public" hearings, which are almost always scheduled when those of us who work are unable to attend. Elected municipal officials are hesitant to question LVPC recommendations because their municipalities are unable to fund studies that might reach different results.
The final and most serious problem is a fragmented response to pandemics, natural disasters, or our coming energy crisis. Most of the Valley's major businesses already have plans in place. Our local governments, however, are simply not equipped to deal with these problems, and instead pretend the problem is not there.
Our two County execs, John Stoffa and Don Cunningham, recognize the importance of a regional approach to the Lehigh Valley's problems, and have begun exploring areas where government services can be consolidated. So far, they're mostly discussions, and no one has even broached the idea of consolidating a few municipalities or merging Northampton and Lehigh Counties.
One example of the difficulties faced, both by Stoffa and Cunningham, is in the idea of a regional health authority. Northampton County Council recently authorized the study of a regional health authority, which makes perfect sense in the face of a pandemic or natural disaster. Those won't stop at municipal boundaries. Yet Councilmen Lamont McClure, Charles Dertinger, and Wayne Grube voted against this salutary proposal, defying common sense with parochialism.
Regional problems require regional solutions. And perhaps it's time to consider one Lehigh Valley County, but that won't happen in my lifetime.
