How Zohran Mamdani Might Govern

Running New York City is brutal. But if he wins in November, there are key lessons from past mayors that Mamdani could learn from.

The following appeared in The Nation magazine.

Zohran Mamdani won New York City’s Democratic mayoral primary by defying the rules of local politics—unseating the establishment, energizing overlooked neighborhoods, and reimagining what a successful progressive campaign can achieve. But the primary was just the first test. If Mamdani wins in November, he’ll face an even tougher task: turning an insurgency into a governing coalition, and proving that a different kind of politics can deliver real change in America’s biggest city.

The demands of campaigning, however grueling, are ultimately straightforward. Governing is messier—but also richer in possibility. If Mamdani becomes mayor, he’ll have the chance to prove something few American socialists have ever gotten close enough to power to demonstrate: that progressive values aren’t just compatible with effective governance—they’re strengthened by it.

By winning over voters in neighborhoods like Brighton Beach and Bensonhurst that had shifted toward Donald Trump in 2024, Mamdani showed that a progressive could appeal to a much wider constituency than conventional wisdom suggested. His relentless focus on economic anxieties and material concerns challenged assumptions about what kind of coalition a young democratic socialist could build in a city as complicated as New York.

That skill will be tested over and over again in office. Governing New York City requires navigating entrenched interests that rarely agree: real estate developers, teachers’ unions, immigrant advocacy groups, police officers, and state legislators in Albany. Each of these constituencies brings distinct priorities and incentives to the table. Mamdani’s success as mayor will hinge on his ability not just to balance competing demands, but to build a governing majority strong enough to neutralize or overcome the groups determined to block his agenda. The real test won’t simply be finding common ground; it will be knowing when to forge alliances, when to compromise, and when to fight.

Not every stakeholder is going to like him. That’s a given in any city or coalition this broad. The real challenge is holding the alliance together while still delivering results. That takes more than big ideas. It requires strategic clarity, patient outreach, political infrastructure, and a commitment to bringing people in, even when they disagree. Without that, ambitious plans can get watered down and ultimately lose their impact.

And because of Mamdani’s politics and his identity, the pressure on him is even greater. His success or failure will shape how people judge the kind of leadership he represents—and what’s possible for the left going forward.

Mamdani is a sharp student of politics. He will have to take this same approach to governing if he becomes mayor, by drawing a few key lessons from his predecessors.

Three former New York City mayors—Michael Bloomberg, Bill de Blasio, and David Dinkins—offer useful case studies in the challenge of turning progressive ideals into practical governance. Their legacies are mixed: Some left lasting reforms; others, deep frustrations. But across their very different tenures, a few core lessons stand out. Effective leadership requires a clear governing structure, disciplined communication, the ability to make tough decisions, and the skill to manage coalitions in motion. These are not about ideology or specific policy choices. They’re about execution. The point isn’t for Mamdani to emulate his predecessors’ agendas. It’s to understand what it takes to govern well, so he can deliver on his vision with the urgency and credibility it demands. 

Building an Executive Structure That Delivers

One foundational lesson is the importance of executive structure—how a mayor organizes City Hall and delegates authority. Consider Bloomberg, whose former deputy mayor, Dan Doctoroff, argues explicitly in his book, Greater Than Ever: New York’s Big Comeback, that administrative success “largely rest[s] on the structure” of City Hall.

Bloomberg empowered strong deputy mayors, clearly delineating responsibilities and allowing swift, autonomous decision-making. Bloomberg famously reorganized City Hall into a “bullpen,” an open workspace modeled on a Wall Street trading floor, where he and his senior staff worked side-by-side without walls. This setup allowed for quick communication, immediate decisions, and clear accountability. Doctoroff recalls how issues could be resolved by walking across the bullpen for Bloomberg’s direct input, enabling ambitious initiatives—from neighborhood rezonings to infrastructure projects—to move forward efficiently.

Nathan Leventhal, Bloomberg’s transition chair, reorganized City Hall into five clearly defined domains, each overseen by a deputy mayor with substantial autonomy, while critical officials like the police commissioner reported directly to Bloomberg himself. This intentional design aimed to break down bureaucratic barriers, giving a single empowered leader the authority to swiftly coordinate policy across multiple agencies.

Doctoroff describes the structure as a “true hub-and-spoke organization,” with the mayor serving as the central “hub,” providing strategic oversight and quick decisions, and the deputy mayors acting as the “spokes,” each responsible for driving their own area forward.

Structure and staffing were also closely linked under Bloomberg’s management philosophy, which prioritized meritocracy. Doctoroff distills this approach into simple principles: “Recruit the best people you can find; support them; provide incentives for good work; protect them from outside interference; and hold them accountable for the highest standard of performance.”

Trusting competent appointees--combined with data-driven performance metrics--created a City Hall culture of both accountability and creativity, as Doctoroff recounts:

Buried in a longer interview (as a courtesy) were four questions, the only ones I really cared about: (1) How would your coworkers describe you? (to understand the applicant’s depth of self-awareness, which I consider the most valuable attribute someone can have, particularly as part of a team); (2) Describe in detail your most recent performance evaluation (I want diligent, hard workers; if someone doesn’t get a great review, I assume they are not); (3) What is the best idea you have ever had? (to test creativity; you would be surprised how many people get stumped on this one, and I ask it because I only want people who can connect unobvious dots); and, finally, (4) Address a specific question on our agenda (to determine that the candidate had given real thought to what we were doing and actually was passionate about it).

On each of the four dimensions--self-awareness, diligence, creativity, and passion--I rated them on a –1 to +1 scale. If a candidate didn’t score 3.5 (half points were allowed) or higher, we didn’t hire him or her.

Building the right administrative team is critical to navigating the complexities of governance. Juan Gonzalez notes in Reclaiming Gotham that when Bill de Blasio assembled his City Hall team, he placed immense value not only on competence but also on ideological alignment. “When Bill interviews, he likes to go back to the beginning and understand what your personal motivations are,” Gonzalez writes, quoting Anthony Shorris, De Blasio’s first deputy mayor. “It was very important to him to ensure there was alignment on perspective and political point of view, and ideology. And that has to be not just a new suit you put on because there’s a new guy in city hall--it has to be something that is very core to your values.” To succeed, Mamdani needs leaderswith both expertise and alignment with his vision. The core lesson: choose strong people, define clear roles, and build a solid structure. Without that foundation, bold ideas won’t hold.

David Dinkins’s mayoralty (1990–1993) illustrates the dangers of governing without clarity of structure and organization. Dinkins was elected on an idealistic vision of unity, pledging to weave New York’s diverse communities into what he poetically termed a “gorgeous mosaic.” Yet as Chris McNickle highlights in his comprehensive study, The Power of the Mayor: David Dinkins: 1990–1993, his administration quickly became mired in ambiguity and indecision. McNickle observes that Dinkins “never established a clear statement of the policies he wanted his senior staff to pursue.” Nor did he implement robust decision-making processes capable of navigating complex policy choices. Without explicit priorities nor firm internal leadership structures, the administration was often reactive rather than proactive, severely limiting its ability to deliver on its promises.

Much of this difficulty arose from Dinkins’s deep ties to the traditional Democratic political machine, making him inherently cautious about pushing reforms that might disrupt entrenched interests. According to McNickle, Dinkins exhibited “a Tammany leader’s reluctance to commit,” which undermined both his agenda and his effectiveness. Even supporters acknowledged the mayor’s personal graciousness and thoughtful demeanor, yet admitted these same qualities often resulted in hesitation precisely when bold, immediate decisions were required. Consequently, the city bureaucracy drifted, lacking both strategic direction and a sense of urgency, and external entities began setting the city’s policy agenda by default.

Late in his term, Dinkins acknowledged the damaging perception that he was not fully in control, stating in a televised address that he needed to demonstrate clearly he was “on top of things” because “sometimes some have the impression that’s not the case.”

The lesson here for the new mayor is to avoid an unstructured, passive approach. A mayor must shape the government’s structure and decision processes consciously; if you don’t, they will shape you.

Building Coalitions, Brokering Power, and Forging Consensus

Effective coalitions move swiftly but strategically, balancing ambitious goals with inclusive, early outreach. Like co-authors handed a half-finished manuscript, stakeholders brought into the process too late often react defensively. They feel little ownership and are more likely to criticize than contribute, complicating policy implementation and diluting impact. Successful governance thus depends on disciplined, proactive consensus-building–clarifying priorities upfront, engaging key players early, and aligning diverse interests before tensions harden into opposition.

Stakeholders excluded from initial conversations often react defensively, opposing or complicating policies, causing initiatives to become overly complex and diluted. Effective governance, therefore, requires the strategic patience and discipline to build early consensus around clear priorities. Doctoroff describes how the Bloomberg administration built a broad, unconventional coalition for the PlaNYC sustainability initiative, notably by including “strange bedfellows such as labor unions and environmentalists, who provided political air cover.” By engaging key City Council members and potential critics well before publicly announcing initiatives—including a controversial congestion-pricing plan—the administration created a buffer of support around its ambitious policy goals.

By contrast, when coalition management falters, it can derail an entire mayoralty. The cautionary tale often cited is again Dinkins, whose historic 1989 victory as the city’s first Black mayor was powered by a multiethnic liberal coalition of African Americans, Latino voters, and progressive whites.

In effect, Dinkins governed as if his initial coalition would sustain itself, but politics is never static. A mayor must continually tend and adjust their coalitions—assuaging one group’s concerns, embracing new allies, and sometimes confronting former friends. Failing to do so will alienate even natural supporters.

Crime and racial tensions in the early 1990s stressed the bonds of the Dinkins coalition. His handling of flashpoints like the Crown Heights riots of 1991 left many in his base dissatisfied and others questioning his leadership. Over time, white liberal voters and even some Latino communities drifted from him, and support from his core Black voting base dropped. McNickles writes that, by 1993, even before Dinkins narrowly lost re-election, “Dinkins’s coalition never collapsed, but it sagged and weakened as a result of his poor leadership.”

Bill de Blasio’s mayoralty offers other important lessons here. Elected in 2013 on a populist wave anchored by his compelling promise to end New York’s “tale of two cities,” de Blasio swiftly assembled a diverse coalition that included labor unions, grassroots activists, community organizations, and communities of color. The greatest test of this coalition was his ambitious push for universal pre-kindergarten, an initiative requiring the rapid mobilization of broad civic support. Despite substantial political resistance and logistical obstacles, his administration’s intensive outreach efforts and careful coordination with both civic and labor groups proved decisive.

Detailed accounts by David Freedlander in New York and Joseph Viteritti in The Pragmatist: Bill de Blasio’s Quest to Save the Soul of New York underscore the complexity of de Blasio’s strategy. Immediately after the election, de Blasio formed a high-level working group of experts, including Sherry Cleary of CUNY’s Early Childhood Professional Development Institute, convening as frequently as 10 times per week. Although the specialists initially proposed a three-year timeline—already considered aggressive—the mayor insisted on launching within his first year, and, crucially, made that goal public.

“By saying that publicly,” de Blasio told Freedlander, “we put everyone on the hook. If you want your bureaucracy to move, make everyone responsible with a public goal they can’t squirm out of.”

But managing city-level coalitions inevitably requires navigating state politics–a lesson Mayor Bill de Blasio learned through his toxic relationship with Governor Andrew Cuomo. Cuomo initially opposed de Blasio’s proposed tax on the wealthy, eventually granting state funding but denying the mayor a political win on the tax itself. De Blasio invested substantial political capital in this battle, later reflecting, “I was told a thousand times it was not viable…but we won,” thanks largely to sustained grassroots advocacy and public pressure.

To overcome resistance from Albany, de Blasio strategically mobilized public opinion through the Campaign for One New York, a contentious 501(c)(4) backed by unions, philanthropy, and civic groups. This inside-outside approach amplified public support, demonstrating that entrenched political obstacles could be overcome by mobilizing a broad coalition of residents, labor, and influential stakeholders to pressure Governor Cuomo.

De Blasio’s experience provides a clear roadmap for Mamdani: effective governance demands skillfully balancing internal negotiation with external pressure. If elected, Mamdani will face an even more challenging political landscape, making this strategic interplay between grassroots mobilization and institutional maneuvering critical to his success.

But de Blasio also discovered that even a strong public mandate does not shield a mayor from well-funded and organized resistance. As Gonzales recounts, Bradley Tusk, a former Bloomberg aide, led a multimillion-dollar campaign to erode public trust in the mayor. Charter advocates like Eva Moskowitz and Families for Excellent Schools launched legal challenges and ad blitzes, painting de Blasio’s education agenda as a threat. Police unions staged public acts of defiance, including turning their backs on him at funerals, to portray him as anti–law enforcement.

Mamdani, whose politics and identity represent an even sharper break from the status quo, should expect similar attacks. He’ll need a disciplined strategy and strong support from civil society to counter well-funded campaigns aimed at derailing his agenda and making him a one-term mayor. And he’ll need to know when to negotiate within existing power structures and when to harness grassroots, grasstops, and elite support outside of them to achieve transformative policy victories. Building a resilient inside/outside infrastructure—one that can mobilize public support and apply pressure when special interests push back—will be essential. 

Framing Attention

Effective city governance isn’t just about delivering policy—it’s about shaping attention and clearly framing the narrative around those policies. Mayors must tell a compelling story about what they’re doing and why it matters, making their vision understandable and meaningful to voters and stakeholders.

As de Blasio told NY1 shortly after taking office, “the public would like to see…forceful leadership with clear values, and less horse trading, and less domination by special interests.” Regardless of one’s view of de Blasio’s record, this statement captures a key insight: A mayor’s narrative should project clear values and a sense of direction. Universal pre-K wasn’t just an education policy; in his narrative, it was a battle against inequality. It told the public not just what de Blasio was doing, but why.

Bloomberg, by contrast, presented himself as a pragmatic problem-solver, a data-driven manager who would make the city “great” in measurable ways. This, too, was a narrative, albeit a technocratic one: that city government can be run like a high-performing business. Bloomberg’s story was summarized in one word: “Comeback.” It lacked emotional warmth, but it reassured many New Yorkers in the uncertain post-9/11 era that someone serious was at the helm.

Dinkins’s mayoralty highlights the delicate but crucial challenge leaders face in defining their own narratives, particularly in a city as divided and complex as New York. Dinkins entered office framing his tenure around themes of racial healing and unity. But as crises mounted, this uplifting narrative unraveled quickly. McNickle notes that despite Dinkins’s sincere intentions, his administration was increasingly depicted—fairly or not—as chaotic and overwhelmed.

The media played a central role in reinforcing this perception; Dinkins frequently expressed frustration that reporters exaggerated his missteps while minimizing his accomplishments. McNickle’s book cites Wilbur C. Rich, who argued in David Dinkins and New York City Politics: Race, Images and the Media that deep-rooted racial stereotypes made it “permissible for the public to hold reservations” about Dinkins’s competence—reservations a white mayor might not have faced. Mamdani, having already dealt with a torrent of Islamophobic bigotry during his campaign, is no doubt preparing for similar challenges in office.

Yet Dinkins’s troubles were also amplified by internal divisions within his base. Prominent Black leaders and activists, most notably Al Sharpton, harshly criticized Dinkins. Sharpton once denounced Dinkins as an “Uncle Tom,” accusing him of abandoning Black constituents. Sharpton’s tone shifted dramatically after a 1991 stabbing incident in Bensonhurst forced him into deeper reflection, leading him to declare his intent to “bring down the volume and bring up the program.” But by that point, the damage had been done.

Ultimately, Dinkins’s cautious and dignified personal style compounded these narrative problems. McNickle describes his demeanor as a “fetish-like commitment to projecting a courtly demeanor,” a trait that inadvertently conveyed aloofness at moments demanding decisive action. During crises like the Crown Heights riots, Dinkins’s careful deliberation was portrayed as weakness. One damning editorial from a Black newspaper in Brooklyn captured this succinctly, warning: “Frankly, you are beginning to look like a wimp.”

Attempting to reclaim his narrative, Dinkins sought alternative channels of communication, directly engaging local radio stations to moderate inflammatory rhetoric and releasing an optimistic, detailed 27-page report titled New York City ROARING BACK: Changing the City for Good. Yet these efforts arrived too late to overcome entrenched skepticism. Despite his genuine efforts and personal dignity, Dinkins struggled profoundly to communicate a compelling and authoritative vision to the city he sought to unify.

Mamdani has shown an extraordinary skill for exciting, disciplined narrative-building during his campaign. He must bring those skills to City Hall.

Governing Competently

Finally, all the structural planning, coalition-building, and messaging in the world will amount to little if a mayor cannot deliver competent governance. This is perhaps the most pragmatic lesson of all: Show results.

The people of New York can forgive a lot—ideology or style or even the occasional scandal—but they do not easily forgive incompetence. New Yorkers have famously little patience for excuses. They expect the trains to run, the snow to get plowed, crime to stay down, and the trash to be picked up. Competence also means the ability to handle crises calmly and effectively. Here again, historical examples are instructive.

Bloomberg’s administration, for all its faults, was widely viewed as managerially competent. A telling anecdote: Bloomberg installed a countdown clock in the City Hall bullpen, ticking down the days of his term to instill urgency in his team. By his last year, they could publish a comprehensive progress report boasting of hundreds of targets met, from hundreds of new playgrounds opened to a million trees planted. The details of those initiatives mattered less than the overall impression: This mayor got things done.

Doctoroff reflects on why they got things done, and again, it circles back to management fundamentals. “Plans don’t usually fail because of bad faith or even disagreements…Most often, different parts of the bureaucracy simply have different priorities… There has to be a mechanism to quickly identify the gaps and resolve them,” he writes.

In Bloomberg’s City Hall, that mechanism was the structured system of deputy mayors and the bullpen’s culture of constant communication. When an interagency dispute arose, Doctoroff could literally pull all the relevant commissioners into a room and hash it out, since nearly all of them ultimately reported to him. This meant problems got solved fast—an efficiency that New Yorkers noticed in the smooth rollout of many services.

De Blasio’s tenure highlighted the tension between progressive ambition and managerial competence. While he pursued widely popular initiatives—such as universal pre-K, affordable housing, and expanded ferry service—his administration often faltered operationally. Samar Khurshid and Ben Max describe de Blasio as “an incrementalist addressing crises in dire need of bold action,” often correctly diagnosing problems but failing to effectively address them. They write, “Whatever the crisis or opponent, de Blasio often—though certainly not always—proved his own worst enemy, struggling to build alliances, getting mired in ethical scandals and misguided political pursuits, being unnecessarily combative with the press corps… and attacking problems either too late, too timidly, or (nearly) not at all.”

No incident illustrated these weaknesses more clearly than the Rivington House scandal. In 2015, city officials quietly removed a deed restriction protecting a Lower East Side nursing home, allowing developers to convert it into luxury condominiums. The controversy exposed major administrative breakdowns, particularly in the overloaded office of First Deputy Mayor Anthony Shorris, who acknowledged struggles with oversight and delegation. Ultimately, Rivington House became symbolic of how a mayor could understand the city’s challenges yet falter in addressing them.

Ultimately, mayoral competence in New York boils down to two essentials: operational effectiveness and political skill. To succeed, a mayor must excel at both. One former Dinkins aide lamented that Dinkins “doesn’t see his own power and his own choices.” That critique hits at the heart of executive leadership: owning your decisions and their outcomes. Mamdani should take note.

The four years of a mayor’s term go by quickly, and most political arcs follow a familiar rhythm: year one is spent staffing up and learning how government actually runs; year two focuses on pushing signature policies through the legislature; year three demands the gritty, unglamorous work of implementation; and year four is dedicated to defending the record while seeking re-election.

Mamdani’s campaign success provides strong evidence that he understands the essential principles of governance: strategic structure, attentional and narrative discipline, clear decision-making, and expansive coalition-building. To deliver transformative leadership, Mamdani must channel that understanding into navigating and holding together this broader, more intricate political ecosystem. If he succeeds—maintaining clarity of purpose, making smart compromises when necessary, building effective organization and infrastructure, and articulating a compelling vision that neutralizes his adversaries—he will prove not only that progressive ideals can win elections, but also that they can yield effective, enduring governance even in a city as complicated, demanding, and extraordinary as New York.