The Ribbon Cutting Is Today. Who’s Paying for It 10 Years FThe Ribbon Cutting Is Today. Who’s Paying for It 10 Years From Now?rom Now? — Let’s be honest. Who doesn’t love a good ribbon cutting? The cameras are rolling. Elected officials are smiling. The mayor is standing front and center with those oversized scissors, ready for the big moment. There are speeches about jobs, economic growth, and a brighter future for the community. Pictures are taken, social media posts go up, and everybody celebrates a major win.
And we should celebrate wins. Our communities need investment, businesses, jobs, and opportunities for residents.
But what happens after the ribbon cutting?
Let’s say a big-box retailer wants to open a 100,000-square-foot store in the Southland, the South Suburbs of Chicago. The company promises jobs, economic activity, and a boost for the local economy. Everybody is excited. Then negotiations begin.
The company requests a hypothetical deal that reduces its property taxes by 60% over 12 years, along with Tax Increment Financing (TIF) assistance to reimburse certain development costs. The municipality agrees, hoping the investment will pay off over time.
Fast-forward 12 years. The incentives have expired. The store closes. The company moves on.
We don’t have to look far to see what happens when a major retailer leaves a community. In 2016, Walmart closed its Glenwood location and opened a new store a couple of miles north in Homewood. Glenwood had provided approximately $2 million in TIF incentives for its store. Homewood later supported a Cook County Class 8 property-tax incentive capped at $4.3 million to help Walmart renovate a former Kmart building. Walmart ultimately closed that location in March 2023, citing financial underperformance.
I’m not suggesting either community was wrong to pursue Walmart. But these examples raise an important question: When a major retailer leaves, what happens to the community’s financial outlook, and who is responsible for planning for what comes next?
Now imagine that community facing a 100,000-square-foot vacant building. It could sit on the market for years, deteriorate, and become a challenge for property owners and local officials. Reusing the property isn’t always easy because relatively few businesses need that much space. The ribbon-cutting pictures are long gone. The elected officials may be gone, too. But that building is still sitting there.
So, who owns the problem now?
Before somebody says, “Well, nobody could have predicted the store would close,” let me be clear: We cannot predict everything. Businesses fail. Markets change. Companies change direction. But that’s exactly why communities negotiate development agreements.
I’m not suggesting that municipalities should stop offering incentives. I’m asking whether we’re negotiating deals that protect the community when things don’t go according to plan.
Did we consider what happens if the business closes? Are there enforceable property maintenance obligations? Is there a realistic plan for reuse? Did we evaluate the public cost of the incentives against the benefits we expect to receive? Or were we so excited to announce the development that we forgot to ask what happens if it doesn’t last?
And this isn’t just about big-box stores or Walmart. It’s about the decisions communities make when businesses come knocking.
Are we evaluating opportunities strategically, or are we accepting whatever comes our way because we’re desperate for investment? Are we negotiating agreements that serve the public interest, or are we so focused on attracting a business that we overlook the risks? Not every business is the right fit for every community. And not every deal is a good deal just because it brings a ribbon-cutting ceremony.
We see the same short-term thinking when we put off repairing roads because the budget is tight. The potholes don’t care that it’s an election year. They’ll still be there next year and the year after that. Sometimes, the longer we wait, the more expensive the repair becomes.
Then a new administration comes in, looks at the numbers, and discovers that yesterday’s decisions have become today’s problems. Residents are left wondering why the city can’t afford to fix the road, maintain the building, or invest in the neighborhood.
I’m just going to say it!
A press conference is not a plan, and announcing an investment is not the same as ensuring that investment benefits a community.
I know governing is complicated. Mayors face pressure to deliver results. Residents want action. Businesses want favorable terms. Administrators have to make the numbers work, often with limited resources and competing priorities. Sometimes a decision that looks reasonable today won’t work out tomorrow. That’s part of governing.
But there is a difference between a risk nobody could reasonably foresee and a risk nobody examines.
Good governance means asking the uncomfortable questions before the contract is signed, not after the building is abandoned. It means looking at the next budget, the next administration, and the next generation, not just the next election.
Because mayors don’t own the communities they govern. Administrators don’t own them either. We are all temporary stewards of places where people live, raise families, open businesses, and build their futures.
The people who live in these communities deserve more than exciting announcements. They deserve decisions made with their long-term interests in mind.
So here’s what I want to know: When a mayor approves a deal that creates a foreseeable, long-term problem for the community, is that mayor morally responsible for the consequences?
Or is it simply part of the job that the next administration inherits?
The Ribbon Cutting Is Today. Who’s Paying for It 10 Years From Now?
