Greg Babinski: The Sim City Visionary Who Quietly Transformed Local Government

When someone asks Greg Babinski what he does for a living, he usually starts with a game. “I ask if they’ve ever played Sim City,” he says.

“Because GIS—Geographic Information Systems—is kind of like that. We create a simulation of reality to help people make better decisions.”

That simple metaphor—Sim City meets public service—belies the sweeping impact of Greg’s work. Over a 33-year career in government GIS, he’s helped thousands of professionals see their communities in sharper, smarter ways. But it didn’t start in a city hall—it started on Greg Island.

“When I was three or four, my mom used to draw a shape on paper and say, ‘This is Greg Island,’” he recalls. “She’d sketch in houses, mountains, farms—points, lines, and polygons. Then she’d say, ‘I have to make dinner. You keep working on Greg City.’”

That moment sparked a lifelong fascination with maps and the invisible patterns that shape our world.

Greg’s journey from a Detroit suburb to the helm of one of the largest GIS programs in the U.S. wasn’t linear. After working as a truck driver and factory hand, he became the first in his family to attend university, eventually earning a master’s in geography. What began as curiosity became a calling: to bring geographic thinking into the heart of local government.

But being passionate about GIS and making it matter to others are two very different things. Early on, Greg realized a key problem:

“Managers didn’t know how to justify the cost of GIS, or how to talk about its value. I saw programs struggle and fail—not because the tech didn’t work, but because leadership didn’t know how to support it."

That insight became Greg’s mission. He helped build public-facing tools like King County’s IMAP system, which now handles over 8,000 user sessions daily. But more importantly, he taught GIS managers how to build credibility, show impact, and speak the language of decision-makers.

The breakthrough came when he co-authored a return-on-investment study showing King County’s GIS program had delivered $775 million in net benefits over 20 years. “That’s when people really started to get it,” Greg says. “This wasn’t just maps. It was infrastructure. It was strategy.”

Yet even with the numbers, Greg faced setbacks. GIS departments were often buried inside IT, stripped of their strategic voice. Programs were downsized or overlooked. So Greg doubled down on what he believes matters most: tenacity, leadership, and listening.

“You need to be just technical enough to understand what’s happening,” he says. “But your real job is to focus on strategy—on motivating your team and helping others see what’s possible. GIS managers need to be master and commander.”

Now retired from public service, Greg leads GIS Management Consulting Services, offering free forums, workshops, and mentorship. His humility is as deep as his expertise. “I know how much I don’t know,” he says. “But I also know that GIS—done right—can make our communities more just, more efficient, and more human.”

If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by bureaucracy or uncertain that your work matters, Greg’s story is a reminder: real change happens when you map what others can’t yet see.