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I voted against reducing the size of council in 2010. Or more precisely I voted no to the question: Are you in favour of council commencing a public consultation process to review the size of council for the County of Prince Edward?

The potential benefits, it seemed to me, didn’t outweigh the turmoil that would be caused by redrawing ward boundaries. Besides, I had seen little of the parochialism at the heart of the inequity that folks had complained of, folks who were eager to rebalance the population between voting districts. In fact, I saw plenty of evidence to the contrary; of councillors considering and acting across ward line, for the larger good of the County, even when it might be perceived as contrary to the narrow concerns of their neighbourhood or ward.

I made my arguments as best I could. I worked actively to rally support for the no side.

When this community, at last, got their say four years ago (after seven years of repeated stalemate)—they could not have been clearer in their message. They wanted change.

Nine thousand, three hundred and eighty one residents voted yes. Nearly 81 per cent of those who answered the question said they wanted the process to begin to review the size of council. Every ward in the County voted in favour of the question on the ballot.

It no longer mattered what I thought on the issue, nor what councillors believed. The voters had produced a clear and unequivocal mandate to act on the issue of the size of council.

That is the way it is in a democracy. You make your arguments as well as you can, as clear as you can. Then you listen to the verdict of the only folks that matter: the voters.

The single question remaining was: how to do it?

But now it is four years later—and nothing at all has changed. There will be a price to pay for this indifference to basic democratic principles.

For the first couple of years, a bloc of councillors were able to push the issue off the agenda. They took refuge in the designed ambiguity of the question—suggesting voters didn’t really want change, but rather the opportunity to talk about it—and there was plenty of time for that later. Others found comfort in a technicality. Because fewer than 50 per cent of eligible voters had voted and answered the question, the decision wasn’t binding on the next council. They weren’t compelled to act based on the result— so they didn’t.

Some took this argument to the absurd extreme, suggesting that those who didn’t vote were happy with the status quo and, in effect, had voted no.

Four years later, incumbent councillors are encountering the fallout of the decision to ignore the expressed wish of the voters as they travel door to door.

They are hearing anger and fundamental mistrust—very different from the traditional complaints about roads, sidewalks or water bills.

By failing to act decisively and respectfully to the clear vote of the people of Prince Edward, nine councillors slashed the tenuous thread of trust between local government and the folks they serve.

This is serious business. Folks are asking candidates why they should vote at all, if their vote doesn’t matter anyway?

Some councillors still don’t understand their failing. They still don’t grasp that when voters ask this question, they have already dismissed the validity of local government itself. They have dismissed the relevance of County council in their lives. They have dismissed them.

Now some of the nine councillors who scuttled the Citizens’ Assembly recommendation have changed their view. Others have toned down their stridency. Few understand, however, the damage they have caused—for the next council and the council after that. Nor do they comprehend the damage they have caused to the institution of local government.

When voters speak, elected officials must listen. To do otherwise, erodes the foundations of the institution they seek to serve.

rick@wellingtontimes.ca