Global, authoritarian threats to democracy, and the frontal attack on democracy from the previous administration have rightly garnered our attention. Yet even more worrisome to our experience of democracy is Northampton’s increasing institutional resistance to its citizens’ concerns.

Lip service is given, but input is disrespected. The various boards which are designed to hear concerns act as foils rather than facilitators. The city pursues its agenda regardless, heedlessly, seemingly impervious to the value of thoughtful re-examination.

Well paved, thinly planted, now desolate Warfield Place is a testament to the ways in which the city at first ignored, then aggressively confronted its citizens’ concerns, however articulate, well researched, and accommodating they were.

The controversies about the placement of the animal control facility eventually had a better outcome, but only at enormous cost to peoples’ working lives and families. Why was it so hard to be heard? Why did it have to be a fight?

Certainly there should be structures in place so that citizens’ voices are a steady and welcome part of the process — at every point of the process. Not just at the beginning, when outcomes are only sketchily imagined, and not just at the end when unintended consequences are inevitable and destructive. This may be messy, and certainly less efficient, but isn’t that the way democracies are meant to proceed?

Sustainable Northampton Plan acknowledges this. A guiding principle is to “operate the city as a democratic enterprise that is responsive and responsible to the fiscal, economic, social and environmental interest of its citizens;” its stated vision is to “encourage full participation in community conversations;” its strategy is to “encourage development of neighborhood organizations and support their participation in the planning of their areas.”

While reasonable people may argue methods, it appears that the actual implementation is contrary to the stated goals. There seems to be no mechanism other than an attentive and active citizenry to ensure that these intentions are met and not undermined.

The clearest current example of our city’s disrespect of its citizens is the dismissive way it has responded to concerns about the infill projects.

My neighborhood, like many in Northampton, has a population of diverse expertise. We have people who have spent their lives teaching, shaping social policy, making art, caring for the environment. Many of them have come together over the last few years to re-examine the real life consequences of infill legislation.

What was designed to engender a greener, more economically inclusive community is in practice creating something else entirely. Existing habitable housing stock is being demolished so that expensive (remarkably rebranded as “attainable” rather than affordable) new houses can be sandwiched onto lots made viable by taking down trees, built without regard for the historical or accepted character of the neighborhood.

In light of this, people have written letters, offered reasoned, well-researched alternatives, presented their thoughts at countless meetings — and been ignored, or at best, their comments stoically received, then blown off as irrelevant or untimely. There seems to be no actual avenue for substantial, serious exchange and reconsideration.

Is this how democracy functions even in a community supposedly as progressive as our own? Is there actually no way to pause and reevaluate, to invite civic counsel?

We do not expect clairvoyance. Our elected officials, and even our appointed professionals, are as fallible and as shortsighted as any of us, so utilizing information as it evolves in real time should be a practice essential to good governance.

Residents of neighborhoods throughout Northampton are frustrated and angry. The destruction of our neighborhoods, the rubble, for instance, left behind in Bay State this past week, is but the physical evidence of the debilitation of our democratic process and principles.

Harriet Brickman lives in Northampton.]]>