The American Prospect
Walt Disney dubbed one of his attractions the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow (EPCOT), but the name might better describe his design for private government.
W illiam Sterner, mayor of Lake Buena Vista, Florida, says he’s “like any small-town mayor.” But Lake Buena Vista isn’t quite like any small town. It has about 40 citizens, some 30 million visitors a year, and one business that owns virtually all its land.
The big landowner is the Walt Disney World Company, the tourist attraction is Disney World, and Mayor Sterner, who is a computer-operations supervisor in Disney World’s corporate offices, governs at the company’s pleasure. Were he fired, he could be evicted from the trailer park where he lives; the same goes for the roughly 40 other employees who live there, all of whom are nonunion. Lake Buena Vista’s council executes only one order of consequence each year: turning over control of roads, utilities, inspections, and licensing to an entity called the Reedy Creek Improvement District, which in turn is a creature of the Disney Company. Is this any way to run a theme park? You bet. Disney World’s structure enables the company to act with the power of a government and the freedom of a private corporation to control every aspect of its property.
Walt Disney dubbed one of Disney World’s attractions the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow (EPCOT), but the name might better describe Disney’s design for private government. Today, variations on the same blueprint abound not only in entertainment complexes but also in shopping malls and urban development districts where special tax arrangements and exemptions are increasingly popular means for extricating property from government oversight. In suburbs across the country, perhaps one-third of new developments are gated, with security, utilities, and other traditionally public services routinely delegated to private authorities.
