The Myth of Neutrality: When Silence Becomes Neglect

We like to think neutrality is a noble pursuit. That if we stand back, focus on “the facts,” and let the truth do its job, we’re doing the work. In practice, however, neutrality often amounts to neglect—especially in public-sector communications. Words, regardless of truth, shape perception, and perception becomes a reality that is very difficult to claw back once it is out of the box. Silence, in cases like these, is a choice with consequences.

Neutrality promises a sense of safety. Stay quiet, stay out of it, stay objective. But that safety is false; trust does not come from silence. It comes from transparency. When facts are twisted or speculation fills the void, our job is not to wait it out. Barring rare exceptions, our job is to show up with clarity and context before confusion sets in.

Aggression, properly defined, is disciplined correction. It’s stating what is false, what is true, and what changes next. In campaign cycles, the risk of silence is higher than the risk of optics. That work is non-negotiable. Silence for the sake of optics is neglect. If clarity reads as an agenda, accept the read, and keep the record straight.

I’ve seen this tension up close. A generally liked leader, terminated for inaction—her quiet mistaken for steadiness until it became avoidance—was later reinstated under a new administration. Because she was widely regarded as kind, many cast her as a victim of the prior leadership. What once read as inaction now reads as alignment with the current administration. In public life, intent rarely survives the narrative; whatever her motives, the optics define the story.

That is the paradox of public service. You cannot control how you are seen. You can only control what you stand for. The absence of a stance is still a stance, and it often serves those who benefit from confusion. Which is why the work starts with how we speak.

Transparency is a responsibility—and it starts with plain language.

In a crisis, the first message you put out doesn’t need to be perfect; it just needs to be present. That first message is your holding statement—a simple, steady acknowledgment that tells people you see what’s happening, you’re working on it, and you’ll be back with more.

Say what you know, what you don’t, and when you’ll be back. Speak so that anyone can understand. Jargon sounds like avoidance. Own what’s yours to own. “We underestimated demand” sounds better than “Due to high demand.”

Give people a next step—a clear path, a real date, a simple action. “We’ll update by 10 a.m. tomorrow” does more to build trust than a word salad ever could.

In the end, neutrality is not a shield. It is an abdication. Whether you serve residents or customers, leadership means being seen, being clear, and being accountable when it counts. Truth is not self-executing; it needs a voice. Choose presence over optics, correction over comfort, and language everyone can understand. That is how trust survives the news cycle, the quarter, and the election.