As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary, it’s worth stepping back and asking a simple question: who is actually in charge of this country?
If we still believe in the American experiment, the answer is clear. The people are. This country was founded on the idea that government derives its authority from the consent of the governed—that it is of the people, by the people, and for the people. Not of the politicians, not by the politicians, and certainly not for legislators like Llew Jones or his small group of direct report legislators and senators in the legislature.
That principle is not symbolic. It is operational. It means citizens retain the right to speak, organize, and petition their government without fear of retaliation. It means that when people disagree with those in power, they are free to say so—publicly or privately—without needing permission, approval, or protection from the very officials they are challenging.
That is not a secondary feature of our system. It is the foundation of it. And it is exactly what is now being challenged in Montana.
In his recent column, Senator Llew Jones claims to “ardently defend free speech.” But then he does what politicians have done for generations when they want to limit a right without appearing to oppose it: he introduces a qualifier, the magic “but”. He argues that anonymous political speech is illegitimate, dismissing it as “faceless smears” and “paid-for sabotage,” and makes clear that there must be “accountability” for the people speaking.
That distinction matters. He is not simply calling for transparency in government. He is calling for “accountability” for citizens that he governs.
That is a fundamental inversion of the American system and borderline tyrannical.
Because once you accept the idea that citizens must be identified, exposed, and held accountable by those in power for their political speech, you have already crossed the line. You have turned a fundamental right into something conditional. You have shifted the balance of power away from the people and toward the government.
Jones asks in his column, “Who is really speaking?” The answer is not complicated. Montanans are speaking.
I’ve served in local government and live here in Montana, and I’ve seen firsthand how these decisions are made—and who they affect when they go wrong.
It is the farmer in Baker watching property taxes rise year after year and wondering how much longer the land will stay in the family. It is the logger in Libby who has seen his industry decline while politicians protect the policies that contributed to that decline. It is the teacher in Dillon trying to make ends meet as costs continue to rise. It is the small business owner in Kalispell trying to keep the doors open while government burdens increase.
And it is not just individuals acting alone. There are thousands of Montanans across this state who give their time, their talent, and yes—sometimes their own money—to stand with their fellow citizens and shape the direction of their government. They knock doors, they make calls, they show up in Helena, often at real personal cost, because they believe their voice matters.
That is their right. No politician gets to question it.
Jones’ argument collapses under that reality. In a free society, citizens hold government accountable. The government does not hold citizens accountable for their speech. That distinction is the dividing line between self-government and something else entirely. Transparency applies to the government. Privacy protects those who challenge it.
But some Montana legislators have that exactly backwards.
This is not a new development. In 2015, after supporting the expansion of Obamacare’s Medicaid program despite opposition from many of his constituents, lawmakers like Llew Jones did not simply defend their vote or attempt to persuade those who disagreed. Instead, they pushed the DISCLOSE Act, backed by a Democrat governor and the democrat minority, aimed at exposing and deterring the criticism. Now, years later, the pattern is repeating itself. These same lawmakers are again calling to “tighten loopholes,” raising concerns about anonymous participation and framing citizen engagement as something suspicious rather than essential.
This position is not about principle. It is about control. More specifically, it is about what happens when elected officials face sustained scrutiny.
Montanans understand why that scrutiny is happening. People are paying attention to votes like HB 231, a bill sold as property tax relief that, in practice, is a far left bill that protects local government spending, shifts the tax burden, and gives political cover to a system that continues to expand. It is a reshuffling of who pays now versus who pays later, while the underlying problem—unchecked spending—remains.
That is not reform. It is a rebranding of the same approach Montanans have rejected time and time again.
And when citizens begin to connect those dots—when they understand how policy decisions translate into real-world consequences—when they speak out in protest, that is when the concern about “who is speaking” suddenly becomes urgent for those in power.
These legislators also argue that anonymous speech is inherently suspect. But anonymous speech is not a loophole in American democracy. It is a cornerstone of it. The Federalist Papers, which helped secure ratification of the Constitution, were written under pseudonyms. Benjamin Franklin’s Silence Dogood letters challenged authority anonymously. Likewise, Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, which ignited the colonialists’ passion for independence, was also written under a pseudonym. It can be argued that the Declaration of Independence itself was a bold free speech statement
The Founders did not view anonymity as a threat. They viewed it as protection.
They understood something that remains true today: if people fear retaliation, they stop speaking. And when people stop speaking, those in power stop being held accountable.
This is how rights are eroded. Not all at once, and not through a single dramatic action, but gradually. The language is always the same. Transparency. Fairness. Accountability. The mechanism is also the same. You do not ban the right outright. You regulate it. You track it. You attach conditions to it. You create a system where people begin to hesitate before exercising it.
Once people start asking themselves whether speaking out will come back on them, the damage has already been done.
What is happening in Montana is not isolated. Once again, these lawmakers have aligned with a broader political philosophy that Montanans have consistently rejected—the idea that government should expand its role, increase its oversight, and assert greater control over how citizens participate in the political process. It is the same instinct that has driven national efforts to regulate political speech and disclosure, championed by Joe Biden and Barack Obama.
These politicians once again agree with these far-left views and agree that political participation should be monitored and managed.
And that belief does not stay contained. If the standard becomes that speech must be tracked because it influences politics, then that logic expands. It moves from advocacy groups to donors, from donors to citizens, and eventually to anyone whose voice carries influence, including journalists and media organizations. There is no clear limiting principle once the government asserts the authority to monitor speech in the name of transparency.
That is not accountability. It is control.
Montanans do not need legislators’ permission to speak. They do not need to justify their participation or reveal themselves to the very politicians they are trying to hold accountable. That is not how this system works, and it is not what this country was built on.
Every politician claims to love free speech when they are speaking. The real test comes when someone speaks out to hold them accountable. Does the politician defend their right to speak? Or does he look to use the power of the state to muzzle his opposition? Two hundred and fifty years in, Americans embraced free speech. The people govern. And no politician—no matter how long they have been in Helena, no matter how much influence they have accumulated—gets to reverse that.
Not now. Not ever.
Jesse Ramos is the state director for Americans for Prosperity–Montana and former Missoula city councilman.