A Matter of Perspective

Taxation without representation is not a thing of the past. But what does it really mean?

Legally and historically, the phrase has a narrower definition. But the meaning I am getting at is more than just voting—it is about meaningful representation.

If you:

1. Pay taxes

2. Follow laws

3. Fund public systems

yet feel that your lived realities, values or needs are consistently ignored or overridden, then representation only exists on paper—not in practice.

But first, let’s look at the historical meaning versus the modern reality.

Historically, “taxation without representation” meant:

1. No vote

2. No seat

3. No voice at all

Critics today might argue that we have the opportunity to vote, this concept no longer applies.

But I would argue that a ballot is not the same thing as representation.

Representation implies:

1. Being heard between elections

2. Policies reflecting constituents, not just donors or party platforms

3. Accountability after the vote is cast

When any of those—sometimes all three—break down, are we really wrong to feel disenfranchised, even if we technically voted?

When representation becomes symbolic instead of substantive, taxation begins to feel compulsory rather than consensual.

Another way of looking at this: if the only time your voice matters is on election day and the other 1459 days of a term feel disconnected, representation has become procedural, not personal. And for some of us, if it isn’t personal in some way, then it means very little to have a “representative,” “senator,” “congress person,” “governor” or even a “president.”

It often feels as if our rural voices are drowned out by urban and big city policy priorities.

Working class concerns are dismissed as “uniformed.”

Small communities pay into systems that visibly bypass them.

Regulations are written about people, not with them.

Our system is not illegitimate. When representation exists in proper measure, the system works.

But the system feels increasingly unresponsive—and that breakdown matters.

Representation that cannot be felt is indistinguishable from representation that does not exist.

So I have some questions for those in elected positions—including myself, as I represent the citizens of Clarissa as a member of the council:

• What does representation actually look like in daily life?

• When was the last time people felt policy reflected their reality?

• At what point does civic obligation require civic reciprocity?

I invite those who represent us to answer these questions—and to give us a reason to feel that we are being represented. That our voices are being heard. That we are not merely constituents who matter during campaign season, only to be scraped off and left to fend for ourselves afterward.