By Scott Perry

In 2011, North Carolina entered a new political era. After the 2010 elections, Republican lawmakers, many of whom were backed by the Tea Party movement, promised a new vision for state government: lower taxes, less regulation, smaller government, and greater accountability for taxpayer dollars. For many voters, the message was simple: government had grown too large, and it was time to make it leaner.

Fifteen years later, North Carolina has changed dramatically. The state consistently ranks among the nation’s strongest economies. It has attracted major employers, maintained one of the healthiest rainy-day funds in the country, and reformed its tax structure. Individual income tax rates have steadily declined, and North Carolina became one of the first states to eliminate its corporate income tax. These accomplishments deserve recognition, reflecting deliberate policy choices that many economists credit with improving the state’s business climate.

But another question deserves equal attention: Did government actually become smaller?

The answer depends entirely on how we define “government.”

Looking only at state government, many reforms appear successful. State agencies became more efficient in several areas. Budget growth was restrained in some years, and policymakers placed greater emphasis on measurable outcomes and fiscal discipline.

Looking instead at the total cost borne by North Carolina taxpayers, the picture becomes far more complicated.

One of the best examples is the Criminal Justice Reinvestment Act of 2011. The legislation was widely praised for reducing the state prison population, expanding community supervision, and allowing North Carolina to close several correctional facilities while avoiding hundreds of millions of dollars in future prison construction costs. By many measures, the law accomplished exactly what it was designed to do.

However, it also shifted responsibility for many misdemeanor offenders from state prisons to county jails. The state created a reimbursement program to compensate counties, but many local officials argued the payments didn’t fully cover the costs of housing inmates, providing medical care, maintaining facilities, and employing correctional staff.

State correctional costs declined as county governments assumed additional responsibilities. From the state budget’s perspective, that’s a savings. From the perspective of local government, it’s a new expense. Neither statement is inaccurate.

The same pattern appears elsewhere. Public education remains a shared responsibility between the state and counties: while the state funds much of school operations, counties continue to finance construction, maintenance, and capital improvements. As enrollment grows, counties often ask local taxpayers to approve bonds or accept higher property taxes to build new schools.

Transportation funding has increasingly relied on local partnerships and financing, with municipalities often contributing substantial amounts to projects once viewed primarily as state responsibilities. Consumers also encounter a broader range of user fees and sales taxes on services than they did fifteen years ago. While lowering income taxes was a central goal of tax reform, many government services are now supported through direct charges paid by the people who use them.

None of these policies is inherently wrong. Supporters argue that local governments are better equipped to make decisions affecting their own communities, that user fees ensure those who benefit from a service help pay for it, and that broader sales taxes allow income tax rates to stay lower. These are legitimate arguments that deserve consideration.

The problem arises when political rhetoric suggests that shifting costs is the same as eliminating them. It is not. If the state reduces spending but counties increase spending to provide similar services, taxpayers still pay. If income taxes decline while property taxes or fees rise, citizens may see little change in their overall financial burden. If responsibilities shift from Raleigh to county courthouses or city halls, government has changed location more than it has changed size.

This distinction matters because voters deserve transparency about how government is financed. The purpose of reform should not be to make government appear smaller on one balance sheet while costs quietly emerge on another.

None of this diminishes the accomplishments of the reform movement. North Carolina has become one of the fastest-growing states in America. Businesses continue to invest here. Fiscal reserves are stronger than they’ve been in decades. The state’s credit rating remains among the best in the nation. Those are genuine successes.

At the same time, it’s fair to ask whether the broader promise of smaller government has been fully realized. The state’s annual budget is substantially larger today than it was in 2011. Population growth, inflation, education, healthcare, public safety, and infrastructure all require increasing investment. Many state agencies remain as large as or larger than they were fifteen years ago, and counties continue to face growing obligations that often lead to higher local spending.

Perhaps the lesson is that government rarely disappears. More often, it evolves. Responsibilities move between levels of government. Funding mechanisms change. Taxes become fees. State appropriations become local appropriations. Budget reductions in one place frequently reappear elsewhere.

As North Carolina prepares for the next generation of public policy debates, citizens should ask a simple question of every proposal, regardless of which party offers it: Does this policy actually reduce the total cost of government, or does it simply change who writes the check?

That question is neither Republican nor Democratic. It is simply good stewardship.

The success of any reform movement shouldn’t be measured only by the size of the state budget or the number of taxes reduced. It should be measured by whether the people of North Carolina ultimately spend less while receiving effective public services. Until that becomes the standard by which all reforms are judged, the debate over smaller government will remain incomplete.

Scott Perry is a local business leader, writer and historian.