GOING BEYOND CITY LIMITS?
Municipalities are exercising their
clout on social issues--and business is balking
On June 1, the city of San Francisco began requiring companies
with which it does business to offer benefits to domestic partners of employees.
At a June 21 meeting of the Conference of Mayors, Mayor Edward J. Boyle
of North Olmstead, Ohio, exhorted his fellow leaders to pass a resolution,
adopted in February by his Cleveland suburb, that would ban cities from
buying goods or services made with child labor or under sweatshop conditions.
And starting on July 1, city contractors in New Haven must pay workers $7.43
an hour--$2.68 more than the federal minimum wage.
These days, municipalities are pushing their clout way past potholes
and police. Local governments are foisting their social vision on industry
by passing bold laws that give them a say in everything from human-rights
issues to compensation. Says Dennis Aftergut, chief assistant to the San
Francisco city attorney: ''Like any private company doing business, we should
have the right to decide who we do business with and on what terms.''
The growing awareness that city hall can use its pocketbook to wield
power over business--politically and economically--is leading to adoption
of laws that affect how multinational corporations function. San Francisco's
domestic-partners ordinance, for instance, states that any company with
ties to city business must offer all its employees, regardless of location,
the same benefits that married workers get. Advocates of such initiatives
applaud their sweeping application, noting that cities must fill a void
left by a less interventionist federal government. ''The backdrop to all
this is a retrenchment of the public sector playing a social role,'' says
Amy B. Dean, founder of Working Partnerships, a group in San Jose, Calif.,
that pushes living-wage initiatives.
TEST CASE. Opponents, however, say this trend is worrisome: It lets city
hall play national politics--a role they deem inappropriate at best and
unconstitutional at worst. ''How can the city of San Francisco, with a jurisdiction
of 49 [square] miles, pass
a law that has an impact across the U.S.?'' asks Brendan Dolan, a lawyer
representing the airline industry in a lawsuit challenging San Francisco's
domestic-partner initiative. ''Why should a company somewhere in Maine be
subjected to San Francisco telling them how to treat their employees?''
In what could be an important test of a municipality's power to impose
social regulation on business, the Air Transport Assn., representing 22
airlines, challenged San Francisco's domestic-partner law in mid-May. Other
companies, including BankAmerica, Pacific Telesis, and Chevron, have complied
with the ordinance, but the airlines say federal regulation preempts any
local authority over the industry.
The suit, which came after United Airlines Inc. negotiated a two-year
lease at San Francisco International Airport, could serve as an important
gauge of how far local laws can go when it comes to federally regulated
industries and multinational corporations. United maintains that upholding
the law would interfere with its ability to serve its customers because
it inappropriately links its use of airport gates and counter space to providing
domestic benefits.
BACKLASH? Elsewhere, conflicts may not have reached the courts, but companies'
resentment is brewing. In New Haven, George B. Clark says his janitorial
service, which has contracts with the city, could suffer as a result of
the new wage requirement. Under the regulations, it will be harder for Clark
to pay his workers $5.50 to $6 an hour when city jobs pay more. In Fort
Worth, Michael S. Thomson, a restaurateur who fought a law that gives restaurants
until 2000 to either ban smoking from their premises or install air-purification
systems, says the city should stick to municipal matters. ''We're not public,''
says Thomson. ''This is my private business.'' He says a new ventilation
system would cost $15,000--an amount he believes many businesses will have
trouble covering.
Of course, this isn't the first time cities have thrown their weight
around. In the 1980s, many localities adopted laws restricting investments
by public pension funds in outfits operating in South Africa. And recently,
business has successfully fought back several initiatives to legislate social
policy. Last fall, for instance, Denver voters defeated a measure that would
have raised the city's minimum wage to $6.85 an hour.
But today, activism is more widespread than in the past and is reaching
deeper into core corporate policy. For years, advocates of social activism
say, companies have raked in tax incentives and subsidies from municipalities
where they want to do business. Now, it's payback time. Many lawmakers hope
cities will find more ways to use their collective buying power. Since passing
his no-sweatshop ordinance, for instance, North Olmstead's Boyle has seen
his bill pass in nine other Cleveland suburbs--and in San Francisco. Although
the mayors' group tabled the measure for further study, he's working on
signing up other cities, such as New York, Philadelphia, and Austin, Tex.
To critics who say municipalities are overstepping their authority, Boyle
says: ''It's not that local government shouldn't be doing this. It's that
all governments should be.'' Until a judge says otherwise, business can
expect a lot more of the same.
By Linda Himelstein in San Francisco, with bureau
reports
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