Tiger GPS: Government and Public Service Blog

Public organizations rarely succeed based solely on structure or culture; the most resilient organizations intentionally develop both. The Spartanburg Children’s Cabinet exemplifies this approach, and through my direct involvement in its development, I observed both dynamics firsthand.

The Cabinet was established in May 2026, when Spartanburg City Council passed an ordinance for the city to join the work as the advisory body’s first municipal partner. The ordinance defines the Cabinet as an action-oriented advisory group that unites public, nonprofit, and community partners to share data, coordinate policies, and address systems-level challenges for children, youth, and families. It authorizes the Cabinet to coordinate agencies, review policies for their impact, recommend priorities, and pursue public-private partnerships. Membership is balanced across sectors and includes individuals with direct experience as parents, service providers, or youth. Classical organization theory would describe this as a rational structure designed for accountability and results.

The ordinance outlines Spartanburg Academic Movement as the Cabinet’s administrative and operational backbone. This role is significant, as backbone organizations facilitate collaboration across sectors that typically operate independently. They maintain a stable collaborative environment despite differing institutional mandates. The Cabinet advances this model by moving from convening to shared decision-making with meaningful advisory authority.

This transition began before the ordinance. For about two years prior to the Cabinet’s launch, a small working group focused on building relationships, establishing shared priorities, and reaching consensus on the Cabinet’s structure. As a member of this group, I observed the development of norms around consensus and shared ownership, reflecting what organizational theorists define as culture: the assumptions a group forms while addressing shared challenges.

Those closest to the work had to balance structure and culture, even when they created tension. Deadlines and procedural requirements sometimes conflicted with the slower process of building cross-sector consensus. That tension did not signal failure; it showed that both forces were at work. The ordinance gives the Cabinet advisory authority, but it does not determine which data to track or which populations to prioritize. Partners make those decisions together, guided by a shared commitment to fairness that shapes nearly every Cabinet decision.

Neither piece works alone. Without the ordinance, the Cabinet would have no formal standing relative to local government and no way to guarantee the city’s participation in a change in leadership or politics. Without the relationships partners built before the vote, it would just be another body checking procedural boxes, present but not actually collaborative.

Public administration often treats structure and culture as separate issues. The Spartanburg Children’s Cabinet demonstrates they are inherently connected.

One of the enduring principles of effective design is that solutions should be as simple as possible—but not simpler. Public administration is no exception. Complex problems often lead organizations to create equally complex solutions. New databases, new processes, and additional layers of oversight may look like progress, but they can also introduce complexity without improving outcomes. One of the most valuable leadership lessons I have learned is that innovation is often less about building something new and more about making better use of what already exists.

While leading the design of a long-delayed pilot program, I encountered this challenge firsthand. The existing concept centered on creating a new system of record to share information between partner agencies. On paper, the proposal seemed comprehensive. In practice, it would have required years of development, extensive legal review, and significant resources before a single case could be referred.

As our team evaluated the proposal, we realized the necessary relationships and authorities were already in place – they just needed to be utilized. The participating agencies already had access to the information they needed through established agreements governing authorized use. Rather than creating unnecessary infrastructure, we proposed centralizing coordination through an existing task force, strengthening internal review procedures, providing targeted training, and establishing clear oversight and accountability.

The greatest challenge, however, was not technical – it was organizational. Moving away from a previously agreed-upon proposal required patience, relationship building, and the support of trusted stakeholders across multiple offices. Rather than criticizing the original plan, we focused on demonstrating how a simpler approach could accomplish the mission more efficiently while still maintaining necessary safeguards.

The experience reinforced an important leadership lesson: simplifying a process does not mean lowering standards. Effective public administration requires identifying what is essential, removing what is unnecessary, and creating solutions that allow existing people, partnerships, and processes to work more effectively.

The pilot program ultimately launched successfully and received positive feedback from both internal stakeholders and external partners. Looking back, I believe much of its success came from our willingness to challenge assumptions and resist the instinct to build new structures when existing ones could accomplish the mission.Effective leadership is not measured by how elaborate a solution is, but by whether it achieves meaningful results. Sometimes the most innovative idea is simply finding a better way to use the tools, relationships, and capabilities that are already available

For those walking the beat, accountability looks entirely different than it does in a headquarters

memo. Agencies formally define it as total compliance with written directives—ranging from local

program statements to federal mandates. Yet, this definition fails to translate to the dynamic,

often chaotic environment of the front lines.

On the ground, accountability is a heavy, defensive weight. Under conditions of chronic

understaffing and mandatory double shifts, operating perfectly “by the book” is often impossible.

Consequently, accountability has morphed into a tool for self-preservation. Officers prioritize a

“CYA” mentality, filing paperwork not to improve the agency, but to shield themselves from

blame when things inevitably go wrong. This creates a culture of fear, where reporting issues

risks career safety, and disciplinary processes are perceived as broken: they heavily penalize

line staff for minor infractions while systemic management failures remain unaddressed.

The reality is that the true spirit of accountability is rarely maintained internally. Leadership’s

rhetoric regarding “zero tolerance” often feels like an empty gesture to the front lines. Instead,

genuine change is almost always forced upon the agency from the outside. Because agencies

have historically operated behind closed doors, it typically requires a public scandal,

congressional hearings, or pressure from an Inspector General to force action.

That era of convenient, internal bureaucratic workarounds is ending. With the introduction of

federal oversight acts, independent ombudsmen, and unannounced inspections, the agency is

now under an external microscope. High-profile in-custody deaths have made it impossible for

leadership to hide behind national-level bureaucracy. With Congress now pushing for agency

directors to be Senate-confirmed positions, every failure on the pavement is increasingly

scrutinized on Capitol Hill.

Ultimately, line officers are trapped between rigid political demands from Washington and the

harsh, understaffed reality of their patrols. Accountability has shifted from a process meant to

ensure safety to a high-stakes environment where oversight is no longer internal, but a

constant, external pressure.

I have only recently begun my career in emergency management. However, my experience over the last two years has shown how important it is to focus on diversity, equity, and inclusion when planning for disasters. There are many communities that are simply overlooked or not properly planned for. Many of these underserved communities are in areas that are prone to flooding or other incidents. There are many things to consider when planning for the whole community and paying attention to these underserved areas needs to be a top priority.

In preparation for a potential disaster, such as a hurricane, it is important to realize which communities need help and address how to help them. For example, if a county establishes a sandbag location, they need to make sure it is accessible to everyone. Make sure a location is put either directly in the community or a reasonable distance. It is important to consider those who may not have transportation. Also, it is unrealistic to expect people to carry multiple, heavy sandbags on a bus.

After the disaster has occurred, assistance will most likely be a must in these areas. When people have been struck by a disaster and have potentially lost everything, where can they turn? Who do they trust? An important factor to consider is having people they can relate to. Do they look similar? Speak the same language? These factors make people comfortable and feel as though they can relate to those providing assistance.

Individual assistance isn’t enough to make people whole again after a disaster. When their homes are severely damaged or destroyed, they may not have enough money to put towards getting their homes repaired or to buy a new one. Assistance programs are just that, assistance. These programs are not designed to fully cover loss. Other options such as potential local financial assistance or donations from volunteer groups could bridge the gap a little more.

While this doesn’t address everything, I wanted to highlight some of the different things I’ve come across over the past two years. Planning for disasters must include the entire community. Have people from different backgrounds and ways of life at the planning table. We cannot think of everything by ourselves. Diversity is important in all aspects of life, but it is life saving when it comes to planning for a disaster. This is important to me because I grew up in these underserved communities. While I did not have it nearly as bad as others, I know the basics of what to plan for after a disaster has occurred as I experienced it firsthand.