Shining light on the good, bad and ugly of bureaucracy in Florida

Plantation Mayor Nick Sortal is promoting what he calls the city’s first property tax cut in seven years — a slight drop in the millage rate from 5.8 to 5.7, projected to be the lowest since 2014. On its face, that’s progress: any reduction in the tax rate is better than none. As Sortal puts it, “affordability is a significant challenge” and the city can “maintain the high quality of services” while collecting slightly less revenue.  

There is only one problem with this tax cut: It’s not a tax cut. 

This a rate cut, not a real cut. Because Plantation’s property values are rising, lowering the millage doesn’t necessarily translate to lower bills for homeowners. In many cases, residents will see their tax obligations stay steady — or even climb. 

Millage Rate ≠ Real Tax Relief 

To see why, let’s break down how Florida property taxes are calculated. Your taxable value is your home’s assessed value (often capped annually under “Save Our Homes”), minus any exemptions like homestead. That value is then divided by 1,000 and multiplied by the millage rate.  

Example: 

• Assessed (taxable) value: $200,000 

• Millage: 5.8 → 200 × 5.8 = $1,160 annual tax 

• New Millage: 5.7 → 200 × 5.7 = $1,140 annual tax 

Seems like $20 saved. Nice. But if the assessed value increases — say it climbs to $210,000 due to market trends — even at 5.7 mills, your tax bill rises to $1,197. That’s a net increase of $37, despite the rate cut.  

Real Relief Means Real Cuts 

Plantation’s seemingly heroic rate reduction is mostly symbolic as long as rising property values outpace that cut. What residents truly need is a deep enough rate slash to counteract value gains — one that actually lowers their annual bill, not just the rate technically. 

Imagine if Sortal had dropped the millage to, say, 5.0 mills. In our example: 

• 5.0 × 210 = $1,050 tax — that’s real savings and a signal that affordability matters. 

Instead, lowering from 5.8 to 5.7 feels like rearranging lounge chairs on the Titanic. 

Context Matters — But So Do Outcomes 

Our homes are our biggest investments, and for many Plantation residents, even modest tax hikes can pressure budgets. Florida, on average, has seen property tax bills surge — as much as 35% in five years — far outpacing inflation.  

So, while cutting the mill rate is technically better than holding firm, real affordability requires a rate cut substantial enough to offset increasing home values — a Mount Rushmore–level boldness, not a cameo appearance. 

Bottom line: Plantation’s “tax cut” is more symbolic than substantive. Residents need actual tax relief, not just rate maintenance. If the council is serious about affordability, they should be checking the arithmetic, not just the optics. 

Part 4: Why Reforming Permitting Is Essential — and So Hard 

In Part 1, Dr. Sam Staley explained how Florida’s housing crisis stems from an undersupply of homes. Part 2 explored how local regulatory systems choke off new development. And in Part 3, we looked at the limits of state intervention. In this final installment, we drill into one of the most fixable — and frustrating — parts of the puzzle: the broken permitting process. 

Skip Foster (RTF): Sam, a lot of your critique focuses on the permitting process. What exactly is wrong with it? 

Sam Staley: It’s slow, opaque, and often unpredictable. Developers will tell you it’s not even that they mind following rules — they just want to know what the rules are and how long it’s going to take. But in many cities, permitting timelines are open-ended. Reviews get bounced between departments. One small objection can reset the whole process. And that creates uncertainty, which increases costs. 

RTF: Why is it so hard to fix? 

Staley: Because permitting is seen as a bureaucratic function — not a core piece of economic development. Cities don’t invest in making it better. Staff are underpaid, undertrained, and overwhelmed. And there’s no real political incentive to change, because the people who suffer most are future residents — people who haven’t shown up yet to vote. 

RTF: Is there low-hanging fruit here? 

Staley: Absolutely. Digitizing the process is one. Setting performance metrics — like time-to-permit or approval ratios — is another. Just treating permitting like a service rather than a gatekeeping function would make a huge difference. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it would help a lot. 

RTF: Are there examples of this being done well? 

Staley: Some cities have experimented with “permit streamlining” or concierge-style services for major projects. Others outsource part of the review process to third-party professionals. These aren’t silver bullets, but they show what’s possible when you take the issue seriously. 

RTF: Any final thoughts on how we get out of this? 

Staley: If we want to fix housing, we have to fix the process. That means educating the public, reforming local practices, and treating housing supply like the infrastructure issue it is. Until we do that, we’re going to keep falling short. 

RTF: You’ve talked a lot about zoning and permitting. But what role do local comprehensive plans play in the housing crisis? 

Staley: A major one — and it’s often overlooked. Every local government in Florida is required by law to include a housing element in their comprehensive plan. But in practice, it’s routinely ignored or subordinated to other priorities like parks, commercial development, or downtown revitalization. Cities may have 10 or 12 different elements, but housing — arguably the most urgent — is rarely the top priority. That needs to change. 

RTF: What should be done to elevate the housing element and make it more effective? 

Staley: I think the state can and should play a stronger role here. Local governments should be required not just to include a housing element, but to prioritize it. At a minimum, comp plans should include measurable targets to ensure housing supply keeps pace with population growth. And if population or job growth exceeds projections, the default should be to allow more housing — not less. There needs to be a presumption toward accommodating growth, not resisting it. 

Last night, Tallahassee International Airport pulled off the rare double-play of shutting down both of its runways — and its communications channels. One runway was already closed for construction. The other was blocked by a disabled aircraft that the airport apparently couldn’t move because they didn’t have the right equipment. The result: inbound flights were told midair to turn around and head elsewhere. 

One Dallas–Tallahassee flight got within minutes of landing before being sent all the way back to Texas, where passengers landed at 11:15 p.m. Eastern. From there, they were told to “sit tight” while the airline figured out whether to put them up overnight or send them back to Tally on another plane. 

You might think an airport with 58 full-time employees and a $19 million budget would be able to tell the public what was going on. You would be wrong. TLH’s social media feeds were a graveyard — the airport’s X (Twitter) page hasn’t posted since May, and not a single real-time update appeared last night. The only official, public-facing acknowledgment of the problem came from the FAA’s status page, which blandly reported a “disabled aircraft on the runway” with an end time around 10:30 p.m. Eastern. 

It’s not like the airport shouldn’t be able to handle communications with that budget, but even if they can’t, we respectfully point out that the City of Tallahassee Communications department has 9 staffers and a budget of almost $1.5 million. Surely between the 67 staffers in those two departments there is somebody who can alert travelers about a major disruption.  

If this were a one-off, maybe it’s just bad luck. But Red Tape Florida has reported before on operational gaps that go beyond the occasional mishap. In March, flight delays left planes sitting on the tarmac. One passenger said the pilot announced that: “Their one maintenance contractor lives 45 min east of town and has to drive in whenever there’s sign off needed.”  

Tuesday night’s silence is especially baffling given that TLH is in the middle of a major airfield rehab project — including work on Taxiway B approved this spring — which already reduces runway capacity. When you’ve only got one usable runway, you’d think “publicly explain when it’s closed” would be at the top of the to-do list. Apparently not. 

This isn’t about whether an airport can prevent a mechanical issue — it can’t, and no one expects it to. It’s about whether they can grab their phone, type “Runway closed due to disabled aircraft, expect diversions” and hit “post” before hundreds of passengers find out the hard way from a pilot in a holding pattern – not to mention friends and family waiting on the ground. 

If Tallahassee International wants to be taken seriously as a growing regional hub, it might start by proving it can communicate during the most basic of operational hiccups. Last night, runways for airplanes — and runways for communications — were all closed. 

Part 3: What State Law Can — and Can’t — Do to Solve the Housing Crisis 

In Part 1, Dr. Sam Staley explained why Florida’s housing affordability problem is a supply issue — not a demand one. In Part 2, he highlighted how local governments often serve as the biggest bottleneck to building new housing. In this installment, we turn to what role state policy can — and can’t — play in breaking the logjam. 

Skip Foster (RTF): Sam, what about the role of state government – can it override some of the problems we’re seeing at the local level? 

Sam Staley: They can, and I think they’ve started to move in that direction. The Live Local Act is a good example of a strong attempt by the state to preempt some of the barriers local governments put in place. It encourages higher density and overrides certain local zoning restrictions for affordable housing projects. 

RTF: Does it go far enough? 

Staley: It’s a start. But at the end of the day, most land use decisions are made locally. So unless you want the state to take over completely — which I don’t think is the right answer — you have to find ways to make local governments more responsive. 

RTF: What could that look like? 

Staley: Transparency in the permitting process would help. Timelines for decisions. Better data reporting. Right now, it’s very difficult to even compare one jurisdiction to another, or to figure out where the hangups are. If cities had to publish their permitting timelines or denial rates, I think you’d see a lot more pressure to perform. 

RTF: Is there an argument that the state should simply force the issue? 

Staley: In some cases, yes. When a city is actively obstructing growth or using zoning to exclude certain types of housing, preemption may be the only answer. But that’s a blunt instrument, and it can create its own problems. Ideally, you want to see local governments solving these issues themselves, with the state acting as a backstop. 

RTF: Are other states doing this better? 

Staley: Yes. Places like Arizona and Texas have more pro-growth policies built into their planning and zoning codes. Florida is playing catch-up, even though our population growth is stronger. We’ve got the demand — we just need to align the governance to support it. 

RTF: Is there a risk Florida ends up like some of the high-cost states we always hear about? 

Staley: Yes — and we’re already seeing the signs. California, Oregon, Massachusetts — they all made it incredibly difficult to build. They layered on local regulations, bowed to NIMBY pressure, and drove up costs until only the wealthy could afford to live there. Florida is not immune. We’re seeing the same patterns: growing cities resisting density, permitting systems slowing things down, political pushback to infill development. If we don’t change course, we’ll be facing the same kind of affordability crisis — maybe worse. 

Coming in Part 4: If you think excessive permitting delays hurt developers you are wrong – it hurt working-class prospective homebuyers much more. 

Part 2: Local Government — The Hidden Bottleneck in Florida’s Housing Crisis 

In Part 1, Dr. Sam Staley of Florida State University’s DeVoe Moore Center laid out the fundamental problem behind Florida’s housing affordability crisis: a failure to meet demand with adequate supply. In this installment, we turn our attention to the local policies and processes that are preventing solutions from taking root. 

Skip Foster (RTF): Sam, in the first part of our conversation, you pointed to local governments — zoning, permitting, planning — as major barriers to housing development. Can you talk more about that? 

Sam Staley: Well, it really is at the local level where the bottlenecks occur. The permitting process, the zoning approvals, the comprehensive plans — all of that stuff is done at the local level. And what we’re seeing is that the political will to allow growth, particularly in already developed areas, just isn’t there. 

RTF: You’ve touched on permitting delays, but can you explain how that actually affects the price of housing? 

Staley: Absolutely. Time is money in development. Every month a builder waits for approval, they’re still paying interest on the land loan, carrying financing costs, sometimes redesigning to meet shifting requirements. That delay doesn’t just eat into margins — it gets baked into the final price. And that price is passed on to buyers or renters. So when cities drag their feet on approvals, it’s not just frustrating — it directly contributes to higher housing costs and less supply. 

RTF: Why is that? 

Staley: You know, the phrase is NIMBY — “not in my backyard.” The minute someone proposes an apartment complex or even townhomes, the neighbors show up at the meeting and say it’s going to ruin the character of the neighborhood or cause traffic problems. So elected officials hear that, and they get nervous. And a lot of projects just die. 

RTF: Is this a new phenomenon? 

Staley: No, it’s been building for decades. But the mismatch between demand and supply is now so extreme that the consequences are becoming more visible. It’s not just poor people who can’t find housing. It’s middle-income families. It’s young professionals. It’s teachers and firefighters. And we still see this reflexive resistance to development. 

RTF: What does that mean in practice? 

Staley: It means a lot of developers won’t even try. They know they’re going to get fought every step of the way. So they look elsewhere. And that means less housing, which drives up the price of what already exists. 

RTF: Are there any examples of cities getting this right? 

Staley: Some cities are trying. I think Miami is starting to move in that direction — more density, more flexibility. Orlando too, in some areas. But for the most part, cities still use land use planning as a gatekeeping function, not a growth management tool. And that’s a huge part of the problem. 

Coming in Part 3:  Could Florida actually become the California of building regulations? 

Part 1: Why Housing Costs Keep Rising in Florida — and Why Supply is the Key 

Florida’s housing crisis isn’t just about sky-high prices or families getting priced out of their hometowns. According to Florida State University’s Dr. Sam Staley, it’s about something far more fundamental: a system that simply won’t let the market work. 

Staley, director of the DeVoe Moore Center and one of the state’s most respected voices on housing policy, says the real culprit behind Florida’s housing affordability woes isn’t demand — it’s supply. And what’s blocking that supply? Local governments, outdated zoning laws, and a political class that talks a good game about affordability but won’t approve the density or development needed to deliver it. 

Ironically, Staley says it is leading bright red Florida down a path similar to ones in California, Massachusetts and other states plagued by costly regulation and an affordable housing crisis. 

In this first installment of a multi-part Red Tape Florida Q&A, Staley breaks down why housing costs keep rising — and why, until cities, counties and the state get serious about reducing regulatory barriers, things aren’t likely to get better. 

Skip Foster (RTF): Sam, let’s start with the question everyone is asking: Why is housing so expensive in Florida? 

Sam Staley: I mean, we have a supply problem. It’s not demand-driven. It’s regulatory-driven, zoning-driven. It’s planning-driven. It’s process-driven. And we’re simply not building enough units to meet the demand. So, what happens is that the people that are in the housing have it. The people that don’t get left out. And the people that get left out are the ones at the bottom end of the market. 

RTF: So it’s not so much that prices are being driven up artificially? 

Staley: The price goes up because of the shortage of supply. The data is there. In fact, there are some economists that have gone through and have documented this pretty clearly. The cost of housing has increased significantly above inflation in urban markets that are growth-constrained. And it hasn’t in areas where housing markets are allowed to operate. 

RTF: Are there unique elements to Florida’s housing landscape that make this worse? 

Staley: Well, you know, the pandemic migration was massive. People fled high-tax, high-regulation states. They were looking for freedom. They were looking for lower costs of living, and they wanted the amenities. So people came down here. They bought. But now we’re dealing with the consequences of that, which is enormous demand. 

RTF: And the problem is our systems can’t keep up? 

Staley: Yeah. The permitting process takes too long. The zoning process is uncertain. Cities talk a lot about affordability and inclusive growth, but then they oppose projects or delay them for years. If you want affordable housing, you have to allow the supply to respond. You can’t be against growth and for affordability at the same time. 

Coming next in Part 2: Those who delay housing projects are accessories in the affordable housing crisis. 

Note: Lake County has seen aggressive anti-growth forces kill new development and object to others as county meetings have becoming increasingly contentious. This piece by Amanda Wettstein previously appeared in the Lake County Triangle Sun

Something is happening in Lake County. And if you’ve been paying attention, you know it’s not just politics as usual.

A small but noisy group has hijacked our public discourse. They attack, bully, and grandstand. They twist facts and turn every meeting into a battlefield. They claim to speak for “the people,” but they’ve broken faith with basic decency, honest governance, and the rule of law.

And now, they’re trying to punish leaders who won’t play along.

Let me be clear: this is no longer about a single party or a single meeting. This is about the soul of local governance. It’s about whether Lake County will be led by rational, responsible public servants or ruled by chaos agents who thrive on division and drama.

I’ve spent my career working in public relations and civic engagement. I’ve sat at tables with elected officials, business leaders, and everyday citizens who care deeply about this place. And I’m telling you right now: what’s unfolding in Lake County is not normal. And it’s not okay.

We are watching the collapse of basic standards.

We’re watching bullies target Republican leaders, not because they betrayed their party, but because they didn’t bow to a fringe. We’re watching people with no plan for governance tear down the people who do.

And we’re watching good people stay quiet.

Here’s the thing: silence is no longer an option. Not for me, and not for anyone who values truth, transparency, and public trust. We cannot allow a handful of loud voices to dominate the future of this county; not in our party, not in our government, not in our neighborhoods.

So I’m asking: where are the rest of us?

Where are the common sense conservatives, the independents, the business leaders, the parents, the pastors, the neighbors who want leaders to focus on roads and schools and safety and not performative outrage?

It’s time to speak up.

Lake County needs a reset. We need to reassert our expectations, both for elected officials, and for the kind of discourse we allow in public life. We need to stop rewarding the loudest liar in the room. We need to stop mistaking chaos for courage.

Most of all, we need to protect the right of our community to be governed by reason and  not by rage.

There are good people serving this county. There are Republicans, Democrats, and nonpartisan officials trying every day to do the right thing. But they cannot do it alone. They need backup. They need all of us, the exhausted majority, to reclaim the air.

Because Lake County is worth fighting for. And we deserve better than this.

Amanda Wettstein is a public and government relations consultant based in Umatilla.

A recent concept paper developed by Tallahassee State College and regional partners raises a vital question for those focused on growth in North Florida: Is the region’s energy infrastructure keeping pace with its economic ambitions? 

The document, titled North Florida Energy Futures and authored by Kyndra Light, Corporate Solutions Manager for Tallahassee State College, outlines a range of opportunities tied to manufacturing, logistics, and clean technology — but it also flags a significant limitation. Uncertainty around the availability and scalability of energy infrastructure, especially electricity, has already impacted the region’s ability to attract investment. 

In fact, the paper confirms that some prospective economic development projects have been lost as a result. 

In fact, just this week, power was cutoff and research suspended for an hour at the FSU National High Magnetic Laboratory because of peak power use during the recent heatwave. The MagLab uses as much as 8 percent of the city’s power. 

READ THE FULL DOCUMENT HERE

This isn’t alarmism. The report frames the issue as a solvable challenge, but one that requires immediate coordination. It calls for the development of a Regional Energy Readiness Plan that brings together utilities, local governments, workforce partners, and economic development agencies. The goal: to assess current capacity, streamline planning, and identify where gaps may prevent future growth. 

The report also hints at fragmentation. North Florida is served by a mix of municipal utilities, investor-owned providers, and electric cooperatives. Each has its own service territory and planning process. Without a shared understanding of regional energy availability, even the best-located sites may fail to meet the needs of modern industry. 

For regions competing to land high-wage, high-skill jobs, energy availability is no longer a behind-the-scenes consideration. It’s a deal-breaker. Whether the focus is electric vehicle supply chains, advanced manufacturing, or data-driven logistics, companies need to know they can power their operations on day one — and scale that power over time. 

The concept paper doesn’t point fingers. It offers a pragmatic roadmap for future coordination. But it does carry an implicit challenge to those in leadership: growth planning must account for energy planning. Without it, job creation strategies risk running into invisible walls. 

For economic developers, planners, and public officials, North Florida Energy Futures is worth careful review. It’s a reminder that in the race to attract business investment, infrastructure still matters — and energy is at the heart of it. 

In Palm Coast, the only thing growing faster than rooftops might be the dysfunction inside City Hall. 

Just months after Mayor Mike Norris pushed — unsuccessfully — for a sweeping development moratorium, he now finds himself censured by his own City Council. The charge? Overstepping his authority, creating a hostile work environment, and interfering with staff operations. The mayor calls it political theater. But for residents and builders, the circus has real-world consequences. 

The Palm Coast moratorium proposal, floated earlier this year, would have frozen most new development in one of Florida’s fastest-growing cities. Citing infrastructure strain and ballooning utility costs, Norris declared the city was on the brink: “We’re going to be broke,” he warned, urging council to slam the brakes on growth. 

But it didn’t land. The council shot it down — twice. And not quietly. Developers showed up in force, warning that even talking about a moratorium sends a chilling message to investors. One builder called it “the most anti-business proposal I’ve seen in a decade.”  

Then, earlier this month, the political dysfunction exploded. The council voted to censure Norris, accusing him of interfering in staff operations and confusing administrative boundaries. What started as a policy disagreement had metastasized into a full-blown leadership crisis. Staff morale took a hit, and several projects reportedly stalled amid uncertainty. 

Meanwhile, red tape on the ground was thickening. In response to complaints from homeowners about flooding caused by newly elevated construction, the city scrambled to rewrite its building codes midstream, creating more confusion for builders and homeowners alike. 

And as if that weren’t enough, the council voted in June to sharply increase impact fees on new construction — raising the cost of doing business in Palm Coast by tens of thousands of dollars per project. The local Home Builders Association warned that the hikes would “price out” new development. One builder said flatly: “If I had known these fees were coming, I would never have started this project.”  

This is the red tape trap in real time: when governance breaks down, rules don’t tighten — they tangle. 

Palm Coast used to market itself as a growth-friendly community with space to expand. Today, it risks becoming a cautionary tale, where elected officials feud in public, rules shift mid-project, and fees climb without warning. 

The city doesn’t need a moratorium. It needs clarity, competence, and a City Hall that doesn’t actively discourage investment. 

Last week, Ghazvini Development posted an aerial photo announcing their newest residential project: the Summerhill development on the northeast side of Tallahassee. The tone was upbeat — “Exciting news!” — and the land was pictured in a sunlit overhead shot, ready for transformation. 

Then came the comments. 

“Why do developers clear-cut all the trees?” 
“So many trees…” 
“Oh, another subdivision, yay…” 

The outrage was fast, emotional, and utterly predictable. 

This is now a standard feature of local development in Tallahassee: post → outrage → assumptions → pressure → process gridlock. And increasingly, this is where red tape is born — not in some back office at Growth Management, but in the comment section of social media. 

Let’s take a closer look at that image. 

To many, it triggered sadness or frustration — a large swath of green space on the cusp of change. But to others familiar with land use and forestry in North Florida, it looked familiar: rows of evenly spaced trees, planted in straight lines, bounded by clean property lines. 

That’s the visual fingerprint of a managed pine farm, not a wild, old-growth forest. No one’s suggesting it wasn’t wooded. But the difference between a functioning timber tract and a natural ecosystem matters — and it’s a distinction lost in a digital environment where “tree = sacred” and “developer = destroyer” is the default. 

It also misses the larger point: this land is zoned for development. This project is legal. And this city is growing. 

According to the Tallahassee Board of Realtors, median home prices have surged nearly 40% in the last five years. Yet construction — especially of starter homes and workforce housing — has failed to keep up. The result? More demand, less supply, higher prices. 

When public outrage triggers more hearings, more delays, and more regulation, it doesn’t protect the environment. It chokes affordability. It drives up the cost of every permit, every foundation, every final inspection. It turns the middle class into renters and the next generation into transplants. 

And here’s the kicker: Tallahassee’s tree canopy is still over 55%, one of the highest in the country. That’s according to the city’s own Urban Forest Master Plan. In fact, many modern developments include mitigation requirements that replace more trees than are removed — just not in the exact place where someone used to jog. 

We’re not saying development is always perfect. Or that criticism is always wrong. But we are saying this: when every new project is treated like a public emergency, the only guaranteed outcome is more red tape. 

That’s bad for builders. But it’s also bad for neighborhoods. Because the more unpredictable the process becomes — the more it’s swayed by online emotion instead of transparent rules — the fewer people want to build here at all. And when they do, they pass the costs on to the very people who can least afford it. 

This isn’t about defending developers. It’s about defending process — so that rules mean something and growth doesn’t become a game of political dodgeball, which often puts commissioners and staff in a very difficult position. 

We can protect trees and build homes. We can plan responsibly without letting the loudest thread on Facebook become city policy. 

Because if we keep letting the Facebook mob write the rules — the same people who cleared forests for the homes they live in — we’ll be left with nothing but pine trees and the broken dreams of the families who want to live in Tallahassee, but can’t.