The question, naturally, comes from the political scientist.
Why doesn't the Salt Lake City Council act like the lawmaking body it is and actually push policy?
"We're the legislative side of city government," says Councilman Luke Garrott, who teaches democratic theory at the University of Utah. Yet "we don't draft our legislation."
On occasion, the part-time public servants do. The capital's beekeeping, urban chicken and landlord-tenant ordinances all are recent examples of measures initiated by a council member.
But under the strong mayor-council form of government, Becker controls city departments and has veto power. For the most part, the mayor and his administrative circle craft policy -- or revise it -- then take it to the council for a vote. That system, modeled loosely on the federal government, has persisted for decades at City Hall.
Council members seeking to initiate policy on their own must gain the support of at least three other members before their measure can advance. Garrott says the council also lacks sufficient access to legal help members need to draft policy. "We're sharing lawyers with the administration," he says.
For the first time this week, the first-term councilman publicly floated the notion of shifting legislative focus from Becker's executive branch to the council.
Councilman Soren Simonsen is on board. He repeatedly has argued that each representative should be able to hatch, then help enact, a particular city law.
"Any legislator in the state Legislature can bring forward a piece of legislation that is out in the public discussion," he says. "Here in Salt Lake City ... you have to have four votes of the council just to have an item put up for discussion. It's been a real source of frustration for me."
For example, his attempt to green light charging stations for electric cars has gone "absolutely nowhere." The rare council initiative often gets bogged down at the planning division, he says, especially if it's not an administration priority.
For four years, Simonsen has unsuccessfully hammered on council leaders to scrap the majority vote rule. "It's a transparency issue for one," he says. Because discussions that precede that majority vote happen behind closed doors, "The public doesn't get a chance to weigh in."
Garrott says the system seems backward. Instead of culling ideas from the seven council members who bring diverse backgrounds and are better connected to their communities, the body typically steers the city's resources based on Becker's budget priorities.
"We don't tell them what to put in the budget, we approve a budget that comes from them," Garrott laments.
David Everitt, Becker's chief of staff, does not believe the administration forwards the council its agenda. Rather, he says most of the work behind the city's $200 million budget entails crunching numbers on ongoing services so the council "doesn't have to reinvent the wheel."
"The council is totally free to ignore the mayor's budget and start fresh," he said.
The council's longtime executive director, Cindy Gust-Jenson, points out the council has the tools to wield significant influence. In addition to controlling the purse strings, it has the ability to audit, which guides staffing decisions and alters policy.
The council also can designate open space and to approve conditional uses for small businesses, including bars. It has the right to set building restrictions along stream corridors.
Still, "it takes a much higher degree of effort to create something anew," Gust-Jenson says. "We don't have all the resources in our own office to do all the research that might be necessary."
While there is "some budget" to hire outside counsel, she notes "there certainly isn't a budget to hire counsel full time."
Legal help is crucial because attorneys help draft policy to ensure it can withstand a court challenge if adopted into city code. Right now, the council relies on City Attorney Ed Rutan's team. For anything drafted independently, the council uses an outside attorney. His contract: four hours a week.
Rutan maintains the issue is between the two branches of government. "It's just not appropriate," he says, "for me to get into it."
Everitt notes the City Attorney's Office, like the city recorder, must be shared equally by both branches under statute. If the council decides to allocate more resources to council-specific legal work, he says, "we'd be happy to work through that with them 100 percent."
Garrott would like to see the council engage the public in discussion groups, then follow up with surveys for legislative ideas. That, in turn, could shape decisions on the budget or bloom into actual city code.
"Have government be less of a regulator," Garrott says, "and more of a partner."
New Council Chairman J.T. Martin says the relationship between branches is not adversarial, and that the two sides share the lawyers in a productive way. But if Rutan's lawyers are forced to choose, Martin says, "I suspect they'd go with the mayor."
Perhaps for that reason, the council does crave more legislative control, he says. "We would really like to get there. It would benefit the citizens. But it all comes down to resources."
