No more ‘faceless bureaucracy’? How cities are deepening trust.

The lifeguard’s legs disappear into the pool. A few tense seconds pass. He emerges with an arm around a limp young man whom he hauls to the deck for CPR.

The audience applauds. Over a dozen Coloradans on bleacher seats are touring Woodland Park’s aquatic center, a sparkling, tiled complex with ample lap lanes. They convened earlier that April evening to learn about Parks and Recreation – not the hit sitcom, but the city department that hires local teens as lifeguards. The evening’s visit is part of an eight-week citizens academy, which ends with a graduation ceremony.

“It’s been super interesting,” says Dan Carroll in the pool parking lot. His doubts about the building’s $11.9 million expense to the city were quelled, he says, after learning about its use.

“I’m going to promote it,” says Mr. Carroll about the academy program. “I think more and more people need to know how the city operates.”

Communities across the country have set up citizens academies over the past two decades. The programs educate civic-minded folks about the gears of local government, and how they might chip in. Proponents also say they have a role to play in shoring up trust.

“It’s a cheap, easy, very direct way to get meaningful community engagement,” says Michael Lawson, Woodland Park city manager. 

“Every municipality should be working very hard on engaging with its residents,” he adds. “Never stop working on earning trust.”

What exactly does my city do?

Outside Mr. Lawson’s office towers a snowy summit of the Rocky Mountains. The town of roughly 8,000 in conservative Teller County has had its share of community tension recently, with national attention on its school board, which has sparked local protests.

The city itself, however, doesn’t run schools. Neither does it handle social services like food benefits – that’s the county. Explaining the limited purview of what the city does is a key feature of the citizens academy, Mr. Lawson says. 

“I don’t have the red phone to Joe Biden, or to Jared Polis,” the Democratic governor, he says. “Some people seriously – I’ve heard this – think that I talk with Jared Polis about once a week.” 

The city manager chuckles: “I’ve met him once.”

Despite such confusion, Americans typically see local government more positively than state or federal levels, a trend that continued through the pandemic. Between 2019 and 2022, however, those favorable views sunk three percentage points from 69% to 66% of adults, Pew Research Center reports.   

Experts consider citizen police academies, which grew out of the community policing movement, as precursors to the citizens academy trend. There are at least 1,000 citizens academies across the country, estimates Rick Morse, professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill School of Government.

The programs, which go by different names, can last several weeks and are often free. Participants meet local officials like the mayor and visit a range of departments – public safety, waste management, zoning offices – led by local staff. 

Citizens take advantage of local services daily, like when they turn on the tap or take trash to the curb, but that exists as “background noise for most people,” says Dr. Morse. Through citizens academies, he adds, “that faceless bureaucracy now becomes a person.”

That’s a lesson the Decatur 101 program in Georgia tries to hit home.

Participants receive “a book with a picture of all the people that have talked and what their job description is and what they do,” says Shirley Baylis, business development manager, “so they know how to reach each of those people.”

Dr. Morse conducted a 2016 survey of 658 citizens academy participants across six states. He found 84% of respondents said their program “somewhat or significantly positively” shaped their level of trust in local government.

A behind-the-scenes look at the water treatment plant in Wichita, Kansas, inspired a perception shift for participant Christopher Parisho. 

“I already knew it took a while and that it was really expensive, but now I had a better understanding of why,” he says. 

“We tend to learn more about the next vehicle we’re going to purchase than we do how our city functions,” says Mr. Parisho, who was inspired to run for City Council, then the state House of Representatives after taking the class. Though not successful in those races, he says he plans to run for another position.

Understanding how your city works doesn’t just help in knowing the right person to field complaints, he adds. It can help someone “reach out to the right people when something is done right.” 

Floridian Aaron Weber, a recent citizens academy participant, was already vocal in his community on issues like land use. Still, he was impressed to learn about court-diversion programs for people with substance use disorders in Alachua County.

“Social workers were really impressive,” says Mr. Weber. Among the message that resonated with him: “Basically, be empathetic to each other and realize that everybody’s got their own baggage.”

Several participants say learning about the fiscal responsibility and budgets of their towns is compelling – after all, cities and states can’t rack up debt as easily as the federal government. That includes longtime Woodland Park resident Catherine Nakai. She joined the program in early 2020, between volunteering on a local land-use board and running for City Council. 

“I understand the budget a whole lot more,” because of the program, says Councilmember Nakai. “It was really cool to see all of the functionality of the city and realize that it’s a well-oiled machine, when it’s staffed properly.”

Making academies accessible

Staffing is one area that citizens academies report as a challenge, in terms of the time commitments the programming demands. And while some academies have waitlists, others struggle to generate interest. Broadening access to a wide range of residents presents another hurdle.  

That’s why Alachua County Citizens Academy in Florida tries to ensure its sessions take place along community bus loops. In Georgia, Decatur 101 offers evening and morning sessions to accommodate different schedules.

Matt Leighninger, director of the Center for Democracy Innovation at the National Civic League, challenges programs to think beyond the hope that spreading the gospel of government functions will automatically invoke trust. That’s a “defensive posture,” he says, and not always earned. Public officials can also work to better trust their constituents.

“It’s not enough just to say: Here’s how government works,” says Mr. Leighninger. “The question really should be: Here’s how a government could work,” with more citizen input.

“Government people, understandably, tend to think of themselves as the main problem-solvers,” he adds. Yet by drawing on residents’ own assets, like education or access to technology, “there’s so much capacity of citizens to help solve problems.”

Back in Colorado, Mr. Carroll is considering answering his city’s call for recreational volunteers someday. 

“I would love to help out at the aquatic center,” he says. “Or, I’m a hockey nut, so I would love to teach kids how to play and how to skate.”