The Good Citizen... and Transparency

In East Timaa, several citizens received notices terminating their rental leases and setting eviction dates, following a change in the legal status associated with what was known as the “I Sold My House” law. The matter was referred to the courts, and within a single day, ten rulings were issued nullifying the eviction decisions.

What occurred may appear to be merely a housing issue, but it opens a door to a broader question: What happens when the foundational rule upon which people have organized their lives for years undergoes a change?

Here, we are not debating the merits or flaws of a specific decision—such matters are for legal experts to adjudicate—but rather the nature of public decision-making. The state does not manage its affairs under static conditions, nor does an official operate without data. Officials face figures, studies, resources, obligations, and alternatives, which may lead them to review existing policies or make decisions that do not please everyone. This is both their right and their responsibility.

However, what sometimes makes a decision difficult is not only its content, but also the manner in which it is translated into reality.

In public decision-making, there is either swift resolution, often referred to as a “shock,” or gradual implementation. Some decisions cannot be delayed, as postponement may exacerbate the problem, while others require patience, particularly when they affect commitments that citizens have woven over years. Therefore, neither “shock” is always wrong, nor is gradualism always wise. The balance between the two is determined by the nature, timing, and impact of the decision. The guiding compass remains achieving the public interest with the least possible harm.

This leads us to an important concept in public administration and administrative law known as “legitimate expectations.” Alexander Brown dedicated a book to this topic, titled *A Theory of Legitimate Expectations in Public Administration*, published by Oxford University Press in 2017.

The book conveys the idea that the state should not remain hostage to previous policies, nor should what citizens have come to accept become a fixed right that cannot be revisited. In simpler terms, when people live for years under a certain system, they build their decisions and commitments upon it. Consequently, the impact of transitioning to a new system becomes part of the decision-making calculus itself. The relationship between the two is called trust, which is safeguarded by transparency.

The solution is not complex. A decision requires a statement explaining its implementation mechanism, its effective date, and the cases it covers, along with an official channel to answer questions. If a transitional period is needed, it should be announced from the outset; if an urgent resolution is required, the reasons why waiting is not an option should be explained.

At this point, the meaning of the “good citizen” emerges. Such a person knows they have rights and duties, and understands that officials may have to choose among alternatives, each with its own cost. They do not evaluate a decision solely based on what they will gain or lose, but also on what it achieves for the public interest.

Returning to the East Timaa case, the truth is that the issue was not merely a notification on a mobile phone, but an example of the reality that a decision’s true impact begins when it moves from paper to people’s lives.

Officials have the right to decide based on the data available to them, and citizens have the right to understand what will change their lives. Between the decision and understanding, transparency remains the shortest path to trust.