Hold the Room. Move it Forward

In August, I had the opportunity to spend an hour with 54 Georgia mayors at the 2026 Mayors Leadership Academy. We didn't talk about public policy or legislative issues. Instead, we focused on facilitation-the skill of leading a room full of people who don't necessarily agree with one another, or with you.

It's an essential skill. Every elected official and public servant who has stood before a council meeting or a room full of residents has faced moments when consensus simply wasn't possible. Leadership isn't about control. It's about helping people feel seen, heard, and valued. When we do that, we make the process easier for everyone-even when not everyone gets the outcome they want.

And right now, we have plenty of opportunities to practice.

Data centers are appearing across Georgia, bringing questions about water use, electricity demand, and quality of life. Property taxes and local government spending remain constant concerns. The use-and sometimes misuse-of Flock cameras has sparked debate about privacy, accountability, and who has access to the information they collect. Underneath all of these issues are larger questions about transparency, trust, and whether government is making wise decisions with the public's money.

These aren't abstract policy debates. They become real when a resident stands at the podium, visibly angry about a development planned near their home. They become real when a newly elected council member wonders whether it's their place to ask a difficult question about an ordinance. They become real when the loudest voice dominates the conversation, the quietest person never speaks, and a staff member absorbs the frustration of an entire community at the front counter.

Our instinct is often to make the discomfort disappear-to defend a decision, shut down the conversation, or simply get through the meeting. It's an instinct I know all too well.

But the leaders who handle these moments best aren't always the ones with the perfect answers. They're the ones who say, "I hear that this matters to you." They establish clear expectations before emotions boil over. They invite quieter voices into the conversation instead of allowing the loudest person to define it. And when they make a mistake, they're willing to say, "I got that wrong," because a community that trusts you enough to correct you is a community that will continue to trust your leadership.

These skills won't make the debate over data centers easier. They won't lower anyone's tax bill or settle disagreements over public safety technology. Good policy still has to be made, and difficult decisions still have to be made. But there is a profound difference between a community that feels heard and one that feels managed. That difference is often what allows progress to happen.

When I was sworn in as president of GMA, I said that our job is to help people belong to their community. One way we do that is by creating space for people to tell their stories while having the courage to lead them toward something better.

That's the kind of leadership this moment calls for: steady enough to hold the room, humble enough to listen, and bold enough to move it forward.