This election, you did not need to vote for the president. Specifically, the president of the Associated Students of Pomona College (ASPC). There was only one candidate. You could not write anybody in. There was no opposition. That is what the ASPC’s ballot told you. The reason that the race was uncontested is that I was disqualified. You maybe would not have written my name, “Luke Brown,” in the write-in space, but because of ASPC, you could not write anything in. I was disqualified for many reasons: arrogance, malice and purposeful misinterpretation of rules come to mind. Your voice — and mine — never had a chance.
On Wednesday, April 2, at 9:16 a.m., the ASPC elections commissioner wrote to me: “We have come to a unanimous decision that you are allowed to run as a write-in candidate.” I informed the entire public through flyers and social media that I was a candidate. I let Pomona students — the voters — know that I was running for ASPC.
My obligation was to inform the elections commissioner by 11:59 p.m. on Saturday, April 5, to be eligible as a write-in candidate and have votes for me counted. I did. At 9:14 p.m. that same day, the commissioner wrote back: “You are more than welcome to host campaign events, put up flyers, and post on social media as long as you abide by the elections code.” Great — I had been doing all this. The elections code seemed simple enough: write-in candidates “are allowed to and encouraged to host campaigning events,” according to Article III, Section 2.
But at 11 p.m., less than two hours after the elections commissioner confirmed my eligibility to run, the committee unanimously disqualified me for breaking a rule of the elections code: Write-in candidates are not allowed to campaign before they notify the elections commissioner they are running; if they do, they must be disqualified.
Unfortunately, that rule does not exist at all in the elections code. Perhaps that is why they did not quote it. Elton John might say that’s like trying to drink whiskey from a bottle of wine (although they clearly found something, being so drunk with power). I, Luke Brown, might call it an unconscionable abuse of power by people overseeing a $775,000 budget and claiming democratic legitimacy. Potato, potato.
I know what you’re thinking — it is very impressive that the elections committee, overseen by the elections commissioner, managed such an enormous backflip in such a short time span. I am referring, of course, to the one hour and 46 minutes between being told I could campaign and being unanimously disqualified for campaigning “for numerous days.” Forget the fact that they unanimously qualified me three days before!
With unbelievable speed, they had assembled a team of world-class mental gymnasts. Look out, Los Angeles — we have homegrown gold medalists ready for 2026! These semi-professionals play by their own rulebook, and voters don’t have a choice. As to how they got away with this blatant game-fixing, there is a clear reason. It involves two sets of two words: “due process” and “questionable practices.”
Enter “due process.” ASPC’s elections code will not tell you much about it. In Article I, Section 5, it specifies that “candidates may appeal decisions of the Elections Committee to the Senate … disqualifications may also be appealed.” This is reasonable. Governments — yes, even student governments — thrive on procedural review. They thrive when there are evidence standards. They thrive when evidence is preserved. They thrive when attendance is taken, when nothing is rushed, when there is a common respect and interest in giving people a fair judicial chance. This is due process and ASPC’s lack of it disqualifies it from being a thriving government.
None of those things mattered. In my opinion, they needed me off the ballot. I appealed, requesting information on the process due to me — by another name, due process. I asked for key information: What was the text of the complaint made against me? Which ASPC officials are on the committee? Was disqualification necessary? Finally, I asked for a formal statement by the elections commissioner on whether he, or anyone on the committee, knew about my campaign before encouraging me to campaign, then deciding to disqualify me.
Unfortunately, they did not provide any of these things. None of this is onerous — it’s basic. I suspect that the senate releasing the committee’s work would embarrass them. The current president is on the elections committee. It’d have been even more embarrassing, I believe, if I had replaced him.
In my appeal to the ASPC Senate, I had looped in over 90 people who had liked my campaign content on social media. You would think that would inspire some transparency. It did not.They muddied the waters. Rapidly, another complaint appeared. The ASPC president informed me that I had broken yet another rule of the elections code: I had received a complaint for engaging in a “questionable practice.”
What exactly is a questionable practice? The elections code does not say. Perhaps that is why the president, who is on the elections committee, could not cite it.
The full Senate denied my appeal, upholding my disqualification in a 9–2 vote. They did not identify what questionable practices I engaged in, or even how this evidence was considered. I still don’t know their reason for denying my appeal. This due process was influenced by what I believe was a malicious disdain for being challenged, and the questionable practice of disqualification by our student government.
The real loser in all this isn’t me. It is you. Not everyone can be president, I certainly don’t need to be. But you never had a choice in the matter since they got rid of your write-in. They don’t care about the rules, and they don’t care about your voice. As an outsider, you can’t even try to join their club. There is no entry into their system unless they invite you in. Good luck trying.
Luke Brown PO ’26 is from West Virginia — a place where this type of behavior would not be tolerated. They enjoy knitting and other humanizing descriptions.
Facebook Comments