Bridge StaffBy Pelin Kohn
“Anti-democratic” is a serious accusation. So is “anti-free speech.”
Six months ago, those words were used in response to a proposal I brought to the Montpelier City Council. The proposal was removed before the council debated or voted on it, and I thought the community division would end there.
It didn’t.
During my recent campaign for the Vermont House, the story resurfaced. The original Jan. 30 article in The Bridge circulated again. I was called the “culprit” behind the proposal. My actions were described as “worryingly undemocratic.” The proposal became an “anti-democratic measure” and “anti-free speech.” Also, an unspecified response from me was described as “mealy-mouthed.” These descriptions were presented to voters not simply as criticism of an old proposal, but as information they should consider when deciding whether to support me.
There is a difference between challenging someone’s public decisions and using dismissive language about the person making them. Political disagreement does not require personal degradation.
That is why I am writing about it six months later.
Enough time has passed to see what happens to a political story after the meeting ends and most people forget the details.
The details fade. The labels survive.
The original disagreement involved a specific question: whether Montpelier should consider a different process for petitioned nonbinding advisory ballot questions, particularly those involving matters outside municipal authority.
The proposal did not arise in a vacuum. Residents had raised questions with me about whether there were alternative ways to handle these advisory ballot items. They brought different concerns and perspectives, and I believed the issue warranted a public discussion by the council.
There was legal context for that question. In Clift v. City of South Burlington (2007), the Vermont Supreme Court concluded that South Burlington was not required to place a petitioned nonbinding question about the Iraq War on its ballot because the subject was outside the city’s authority. The court later addressed related issues in Skiff v. South Burlington School District (2018).
That doesn’t tell Montpelier what it should do. It does show that the underlying question involved municipal process.
There was another important fact: the council could not simply change Montpelier’s charter and give itself new authority. Any charter amendment advanced by the council would ultimately have gone to Montpelier voters.
But something happened as the story traveled.
The proposal was not an attempt to stop a particular petitioned article. It raised a broader question about the process for petitioned nonbinding advisory ballot questions. Yet it was later described publicly as an effort aimed at stopping a particular petition concerning an international issue.
That added something new to the story: motive.
A procedural question became “anti-free speech.” A disputed proposal became evidence that its author was “anti-democratic.” Then an assumed motive became part of the story as well.
Eventually, people weren’t simply debating what I had proposed. They were telling others what I believed and why I had acted.
That is where the line changes for me.
Holding public office means accepting criticism. Call a proposal misguided. Explain why it would be harmful. Organize against it. Vote against it.
But “anti-democratic” and “anti-free speech” make a different kind of claim. They don’t simply challenge a decision. They tell the public something about a person’s values and character.
Holding public office does not require staying quiet when that happens.
For six months, I largely did. I assumed the community division would pass and the facts would speak for themselves.
Instead, the label traveled.
Political labels are remarkably efficient. “Radical.” “Fascist.” “Extremist.” “Anti-
democratic.” A complicated issue can take paragraphs to explain. A label takes a word or two.
Once repeated often enough, an interpretation can begin to feel like established fact.
A quote can be accurate and still not tell the whole story. Individual facts can be correct while important context disappears. An assumed motive can be repeated until people forget it was ever an assumption.
That is why the distinction between fact and characterization matters.
What was actually proposed? What would it have done? What is supported by the record, and what is someone’s interpretation of that record? These are legitimate questions.
But don’t turn disagreement with a proposal into a claim about my commitment to democracy, assign me a motive, and expect those claims to go unanswered.
Being an elected official means being accountable for what I say, propose, and vote for. It does not mean surrendering the right to correct the record when other people tell the public what my values are.
I stayed quiet, hoping not to deepen the division. Six months later, I see the risk in that choice.
Sometimes silence makes room not for resolution, but for a false narrative to become the record.
Pelin Kohn is a Montpelier City Councilor.
The material presented here represents the opinion of the author and does not reflect the opinions of The Bridge. Commentaries may be submitted to editor@montpelierbridge.com. Preference is given to submissions by those who live in central Vermont. Submissions are encouraged to be 500 to 750 words in length.
