On the proliferation of water conferences
I like conferences. That’s a good thing, because academics attend a lot of conferences. The conference circuit is especially busy for those of us who do significant interdisciplinary and applied research. As a political scientist who works on public management and water policy, that means 1-2 political science conferences (APSA, MPSA, SPSA), 1-2 public administration/public policy conferences (APPAM, PMRC, ASPA), and 1-2 water conferences.
Water conferences are a bit different, because they’re attended mostly by more working professionals than academics. Interacting with people who grapple with real policy, political, and management challenges generates new research questions, empirical studies, and theoretical developments. Water conferences connect people who work on water resources, drinking water, stormwater management, wastewater treatment, reuse, desalination, construction, finance, law, conservation, environmental justice, and more—each of these topics is inextricably linked to the others. Water conferences are terribly important for scholars because they facilitate interaction across disciplinary silos and make our research relevant. Academics are important for water conferences because they get the latest, most rigorous research into the hands of managers, advocates, and policymakers.
Water conferences: so many, so costly
I have no trend data, but it feels like water conferences have proliferated over the past decade. I’ve been attending ACE and UMC for years, but every week my email and twitter feed tell me about another conference meeting where utility leaders, scholars, engineers, analysts and advocates are talking about water.
Just as the nation is rediscovering water’s importance, so apparently have conference organizers. There are dozens of water-focused conferences each year in the United States alone. I quickly catalogued the conferences that would be relevant for my own work on urban water policy, management and finance in the United States. I didn’t include conferences that are principally academic. Looking only at national conferences in 2018 here’s what I found:
That’s eleven national conferences with an average registration fee of $680…. and that’s just general policy/management conferences. For people who work on the technical side of the water business, there are many more. In most cases, the volunteers who plan and present at conferences also have to pay registration fees. Combined with travel costs, those fees strain meager public sector and academic conference budgets.
The perils of proliferation
Not everyone has to attend every conference, there is a place for specialized conferences, and it’s good that meetings are available at various times of year. Still, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that we’ve passed the socially optimal number of conferences in the water sector.
To be valuable, professional conferences rely on network economies and/or economies of agglomeration: the benefit of any conference is a function of the number and variety of other attendees. Water conferences are most valuable if they provide participants access to people and information that they otherwise wouldn’t encounter. At some point, an increasing number of conferences dilutes their value to individuals, organizations, and the water community at large.
Water organizations make big money through conferences, but collectively they may have reached a point of diminishing returns to the water community.
The case for rate-funded water affordability
Warning: this post contains hardcore wonkery.
One of the most trenchant questions that emerged during the recent California State Water Resources Control Board affordability symposium (pursuant to California AB-401) was whether low-income water bill assistance should be funded through taxes or rate revenue. That is, who should pay for affordability programs: taxpayers or ratepayers?
A couple caveats before addressing that question. First, utilities can do a great deal to reduce rates for many low-income customers without explicitly redistributive programs. For example, small systems might consolidate for economies of scale, and cost-of-service rate design can distribute more system costs to the high-peak customers who drive capacity needs. Utilities ought to exhaust those options before turning to redistributive assistance. Second, states vary widely in the degree to which utilities are legally permitted to fund low-income assistance through rates. In this post I skirt these practical and legal considerations, and instead focus on the more fundamental issue of…
Public goods, private goods, and government revenue
In public finance, the traditional rationale for whether something should be funded through taxes or fees is whether the something is a public good. In economese, public goods are non-excludable and non-rival in consumption. “Non-excludable” means that, once the good is created, no one can be excluded from its benefits. “Non-rival” means that no one’s consumption of the good diminishes the quality of anyone else’s consumption of the same good. Lighthouses and missile defense systems are classic examples of public goods. We typically rely on governments to provide public goods because it is difficult or impossible for private firms to capture revenue for those goods. Instead, governments levy taxes in order to pay for them.
When governments provide private goods—and much of what American governments do is private good provision—it uses some mix of tax and service fees to generate revenue. State universities are good examples: the people of Texas help pay for Texas A&M University through their taxes, and Aggies contribute through their tuition payments.
Drinking water and sewer service as public goods
Environmental protection is another classic public good: everyone benefits from clean air, soil, and water. It’s little wonder, then, that sewers traditionally were financed through taxes. Everyone benefits from sanitary sewer systems that keep raw sewage out of our streets and waterways. Today sewers in America are paid for primarily through service fees, sometimes in some combination with tax funding.
Drinking water is trickier. The vast majority of American water systems today rely on volumetric service rates to generate revenue. In a conventional sense, drinking water isn’t a public good: it’s possible to exclude people from a drinking water system, and two people can’t drink the same glass of water. Drinking water affordability is a problem precisely because it is excludable and rival in consumption: customers can be disconnected for nonpayment and can’t simply free-ride on their neighbors’ water service.
But there is an argument for drinking water as a public good insofar as it has positive externalities–benefits to the community beyond the household using the water. Lush lawns and car washing may not be public goods, but disease control is. Basic water use for drinking, cooking, and sanitation reduces disease and overall health system costs. People who have access to safe, reliable drinking water at home are healthier and more productive. Some basic, universal provision of potable water could be considered a public good. If we think of a drinking water utility as a collective enterprise that provides a collective public health good, then a basic level of service (say, 35-50 gallons per person per day) can be thought of as a public good.
So it’s reasonable to conclude that water assistance programs should be funded through taxes. But tax-funded assistance programs are politically unpopular. When established, tax-funded assistance programs also tend to be under-funded and perpetually threatened with reduction or elimination when hard times come—which is exactly when assistance is needed most.
Fire & Water: The case for rate-funded affordability programs
But there’s a sound rationale for funding basic drinking water service at an affordable price, using rate revenue, under existing cost-of-service principles. The clues to the logic of affordability-through-rates is in the way we fund fire protection through water rates.
Firefighting is a public good. When a building catches fire, it is clearly a loss to that building’s owner. It is also a threat to all of the other people whose homes and businesses might potentially catch fire. So everyone in a community benefits from effective firefighting.
Communities pay for firefighting mainly through taxes, which pay for the buildings, equipment, and staffing needed to fight fires. Less obviously, most communities also pay for fire protection through their water rates, because firefighting relies on a water system to provide large volumes of water at high pressure through hydrants. Consequently, some portion of any city’s water utility capacity is built simply to fight fires. Communities pay for that capacity through water rates.
The principles of cost-of-service water ratemaking are codified in AWWA’s Manual M1, which identifies public fire protection as a reasonable functional cost. That means that utilities across America are already funding a public good—fire protection—through water rates consistent with cost-of-service principles.
To the extent that drinking water for basic health and sanitation are public goods, there also is a solid rationale for development of a cost-of-service rate methodology that provides for a basic level of indoor potable water use. A modification to M1 would—and should—articulate this logic, and so provide a pathway for rate-funded affordability initiatives.
This is the fourth in my series of posts on the recently released White House infrastructure plan.
Release of the White House infrastructure plan triggered a flurry of news about the nation’s ports, dams, water works, sewer systems, rails, and rosenbridges. Little noted in all that coverage was the fourth part of the president’s four-part plan: workforce development.
Human capital shortfall
The human capital—the educated, qualified, and experienced workers who build and maintain the nation’s infrastructure—is suffering from the same kind of shortages that plague physical infrastructure. Infrastructure work is skilled work, and skilled workers are aging out of the labor market faster than they’re being replaced. The return on infrastructure investment will be poor if workers aren’t available to operate and maintain what’s built. The availability of qualified workers has real consequences for utilities. A study I published with David Switzer linked labor market human capital to drinking water safety, for example. The challenge is particularly acute for small utility systems, which often struggle to attract and retain talent. Organizations like AWWA and Baywork have invested heavily in workforce development initiatives in an attempt to address the shortfall.
Astonishing Part 4
Just as Parts 1-3 of the White House plan are meant to incentivize communities and corporations to invest in physical capital, Part 4 would change federal rules to incentivize individual workers’ investments in human capital.
The White House plan would revise Pell Grant eligibility to cover operator training, reform the Perkins CTE program to facilitate infrastructure-focused training, and expand federal Work Study to include trade apprenticeships. Perhaps just as importantly, the White House plan would push states to harmonize their operator licensing requirements. This last move would liberalize the labor market, which would open up opportunities for infrastructure workers and employers.
Taken together, these changes help make infrastructure careers more attractive. As Joe Kane at Brookings has observed, infrastructure jobs are good for the economy, too—they offer good pay, foster transferable skills, and aren’t easily outsourced to foreign workers. Unlike the plan’s provisions for physical capital, Part 4 is aimed squarely at the American working class.
The prominence of workforce development in the White House plan is extraordinary.
Federal investment in infrastructure is nothing new, and federal investments in human capital have been around for decades. But the White House plan’s Part 4 makes workforce an integral part of its vision for infrastructure. That’s important, and hopefully it marks a deep change in the way we think about infrastructure policy in America.