You’re walking down a street in Brooklyn and trip over a jagged piece of sidewalk that’s been broken for three years. Or maybe your landlord hasn’t turned the heat on since October, and 311 just keeps "closing" your tickets without doing a thing. Most people in this city feel like they're screaming into a void. But there is a specific person whose entire job description is basically to scream back at the government on your behalf. That’s the New York Public Advocate.
It’s the weirdest job in the city.
Honestly, if you ask ten New Yorkers what the Public Advocate does, nine of them will probably shrug and say, "I think they’re next in line for Mayor?" They aren't wrong, but that's a tiny part of the story. The office is currently held by Jumaane Williams, a man who has made a career out of being the city's "activist-in-chief." He’s the guy you see at the protests, the one getting arrested for civil disobedience, and the one filing lawsuits against city agencies that aren't doing their jobs.
What the New York Public Advocate Actually Does
Think of the Public Advocate as a watchdog with a megaphone but no leash. They don't have the power to pass laws like the City Council, and they don't have the budget-moving muscle of the Mayor. Instead, they serve as a bridge. The New York City Charter defines the role as an ombudsman. That’s a fancy word for someone who investigates complaints about city services.
If the Department of Buildings is ignoring a dangerous construction site, the Public Advocate steps in. If the NYPD isn't being transparent about misconduct, the office pushes for records. It’s a check on the Mayor’s power.
The "Next in Line" Factor
Yes, the Public Advocate is second in the line of succession. If Mayor Eric Adams were to suddenly vacate his seat, Jumaane Williams would become the Acting Mayor. This isn't just theoretical; it’s happened. Back in 1993, when Mayor David Dinkins was in office, the position was actually called the "President of the City Council." They changed the name to Public Advocate specifically to make the role feel more focused on the people and less on the legislative gears.
But there’s a catch.
Because the Public Advocate is elected citywide—just like the Mayor and the Comptroller—they have a massive platform. They don't represent a tiny neighborhood in Queens or a sliver of the Bronx. They represent everyone. This makes the office a perfect launching pad for higher ambitions. Bill de Blasio was the Public Advocate before he became Mayor. Tish James was the Public Advocate before she became the Attorney General of New York. It's a high-profile gig that lets you build name recognition by criticizing the person currently in charge.
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Why People Think the Office is Pointless
Critics love to hate this office. Every few years, someone in the City Council or a columnist at the New York Post suggests we should just abolish it to save money. They call it a "taxpayer-funded bully pulpit."
They argue that $3 million or $4 million a year (the typical budget range for the office) is too much for a position that can’t actually force anyone to do anything. They’re sort of right. The Public Advocate can’t fire a commissioner. They can’t sign a executive order. They can only introduce legislation in the City Council—but they can't even vote on it.
So why keep it?
Because without it, who’s watching the watchers? The Comptroller watches the money. The City Council watches the districts. The New York Public Advocate watches the people’s interests. Sometimes, just the threat of a Public Advocate showing up with a camera crew and a stack of complaints is enough to make a city agency suddenly find the paperwork they "lost" six months ago.
The Power of the "Worst Landlord List"
One of the most famous tools this office uses is the "Worst Landlord Watchlist." It’s exactly what it sounds like. Every year, the Public Advocate’s office scours data from the Department of Housing Preservation and Development (HPD). They look for the buildings with the most open violations—lead paint, rats, no hot water, collapsing ceilings.
Then, they name and shame.
It sounds simple, but it’s devastatingly effective. Landlords hate being on that list. It affects their ability to get loans. It makes it harder for them to hide behind shell companies. When Jumaane Williams or his predecessors release that list, it gets wall-to-wall press coverage. It’s a way of using the office’s visibility to protect tenants who otherwise have zero leverage.
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A History of Rebels and Bureaucrats
The office hasn't always been held by activists. Mark Green, the very first Public Advocate, was a consumer advocate who used the office like a law firm for the public. He was constantly in court. Then you had Betsy Gotbaum, who was much more behind-the-scenes, focusing on things like the foster care system and education.
Then came the era of the political heavyweights.
When Bill de Blasio took the job, he used it to pivot against Michael Bloomberg’s "stop and frisk" policies. He used the office to frame himself as the champion of the "Tale of Two Cities." It worked. He rode that momentum straight into Gracie Mansion. Tish James followed him, using the office to go after predatory lenders and the NRA.
Then there’s Jumaane.
Williams has taken the role back to its grassroots. He’s been very open about his own struggles with Tourette’s Syndrome and ADHD, using his personal story to advocate for better mental health services in the city. He isn't just a suit in an office; he’s often the guy in the t-shirt at the 2:00 AM rally. This has made him immensely popular with the city’s progressive base, though it definitely ruffles feathers in the more conservative corners of the Five Boroughs.
How the Public Advocate Actually Impacts Your Daily Life
You might think this is all high-level politics, but it trickles down. Here are a few ways the office actually touches your life:
- Legislation: The Public Advocate has introduced bills to ban the "box" on job applications (so people with criminal records get a fair shot) and to limit the use of solitary confinement in city jails.
- Agency Oversight: They hold hearings. If the MTA is failing (even though it's state-run, the PA still weighs in) or if the city's trash pickup is lagging, the Public Advocate calls the leaders of those departments to testify.
- Direct Help: You can actually call them. They have a "Constituent Services" department. If you’ve exhausted every other avenue and the city is still failing you, their staff is trained to navigate the bureaucracy.
The Budget Battle: A Constant Struggle
Money is always the issue. The Mayor’s office often tries to squeeze the Public Advocate’s budget. It makes sense, right? If someone was hired specifically to talk trash about you, would you want to give them a bigger megaphone?
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During the Bloomberg and de Blasio years, there were constant tug-of-wars over how many staffers the Public Advocate could hire. Currently, the office operates on a shoestring compared to most city agencies. We are talking about a staff of maybe 50 to 60 people trying to oversee a city of 8.5 million. It’s a David vs. Goliath situation every single day.
What Happens Next?
The future of the New York Public Advocate position is always in flux. As the 2025 and 2026 election cycles approach, the office will once again become a focal point. If the city feels like it’s in crisis—whether it’s housing costs, the migrant situation, or public safety—the Public Advocate is the one who will be expected to provide the "alternative" vision to the Mayor’s.
It’s a weird, necessary, frustrating, and vital part of the New York ecosystem. It’s the city’s safety valve.
How to use the Public Advocate’s Office
Don't just complain on Twitter. If you’re dealing with a systemic issue in your neighborhood, you should actually reach out to them. Here is the move:
- File a formal complaint with 311 first. You need a paper trail. The Public Advocate’s office can’t do much if you haven't tried the standard channels first.
- Gather your evidence. Take photos of the mold. Save the emails where the city agency ignored you.
- Visit the website. Go to the Official Public Advocate site and use their intake form.
- Show up at town halls. Jumaane Williams and his staff are frequently out in the community. Go to the meetings. Speak up.
Basically, the office is only as strong as the people who use it. If New Yorkers stop demanding accountability, the role becomes nothing more than a ceremonial waiting room for the next mayoral candidate. But if you push them, they can be the most powerful ally you have in a city that often feels like it's trying to push you out.
Keep an eye on the "Worst Landlord" list when it drops later this year. It's usually a good barometer for which neighborhoods are being targeted for gentrification or neglect. Also, watch the City Council calendar for any bills introduced by the PA; these are often the "litmus test" issues that the more moderate council members are too scared to touch.
The city is loud. The government is slow. The Public Advocate is the one person paid to make sure that when you shout, someone actually hears it.