Matt Brown, Alderman Ward 2, Franklin, TN (2026)

Small business owner, Army National Guard veteran, community volunteer and parent fighting to preserve and protect Franklin, as our city confronts rapid growth.

09/11/2026

Twenty-five years later, we remember the lives lost on September 11, 2001, the families whose lives were forever changed, and the extraordinary courage of the first responders and ordinary Americans who ran toward danger to help others.

We also remember the men and women who answered the call to serve in the years that followed.

May we never forget their sacrifice, their courage, and the way Americans came together in the face of unimaginable tragedy.

Never Forget. 9.11.01

08/24/2026

WORTH EXPLAINING
If Growth Is Supposed to Pay for Itself... Does It?

One of the phrases I hear most often when we talk about growth in Franklin is, “Growth should pay for itself.”

I agree.

In fact, I suspect just about everyone does. Existing residents shouldn't be expected to shoulder all of the costs created by new growth. New homes and businesses create additional demands on roads, utilities, parks and other public infrastructure, and it's reasonable to expect that new development should help pay for those needs.

But there's a harder question buried inside that statement: What does “pay for itself” actually mean?

Like many people, before serving on the Board of Mayor and Aldermen, I assumed the answer was fairly simple. A development creates a need for infrastructure, the developer pays for it, and the infrastructure gets built. The reality is considerably more complicated.

Before the first family moves into a new neighborhood, substantial private investment has typically already occurred. Developers build streets, sidewalks and stormwater systems. They extend water and sewer infrastructure. Depending on the project, they may also be required to construct turn lanes, improve intersections, dedicate right-of-way or make other improvements needed because of the traffic and demand their development creates.

On top of those direct improvements, Franklin charges fees specifically intended to make new growth contribute toward the larger infrastructure systems it will use.

Road impact fees are one example. Over the past several years, BOMA has substantially increased Franklin's road impact fees, with additional scheduled increases still to come. Residential development also contributes through parkland fees, while new connections to our water and wastewater systems carry significant capacity and connection costs intended to help fund those systems.

There's something about impact fees I didn't understand before serving in local government: not every community in Tennessee has access to this tool in the same way Franklin does. State law limits the circumstances under which local governments can impose impact fees, and Franklin is fortunate to have longstanding authority to use them. We've chosen to use that authority aggressively because we believe new growth should contribute meaningfully toward the infrastructure it requires.

And these aren't abstract dollars sitting somewhere on a spreadsheet.

As I’ve discussed in a previous essay, Franklin is currently in the midst of one of the largest infrastructure investment periods in our history, with approximately 62% of our current road capital program being funded with cash rather than debt.

Some of the dollars making those investments possible were collected from development years before the construction you see today ever began. That's one of the realities of infrastructure: it is extraordinarily expensive, takes years to plan and engineer, and the timing of when the money is collected rarely lines up perfectly with when a project can actually be built.

The same principle extends beyond roads. In just the past few years, Franklin has opened Bicentennial Park and Thompson Alley Neighborhood Park, begun construction on the 180-acre Pearlene M. Bransford Complex, restored the historic Main Barn at Harlinsdale, completed the Harlinsdale pedestrian bridge, and added significant new sidewalks, greenways and multi-use trails—including 2.7 miles along Highway 96 West. Today, Franklin has 21 parks encompassing more than 1,000 acres, along with 37 miles of multi-use trails. Growth creates demand for those amenities too, which is why new residential development contributes through parkland dedication and impact fees alongside the significant investments the City makes itself.

We've also been changing our policies as we've learned.
One of the frustrations I've heard repeatedly from residents is pretty straightforward: “Don't let the development come first and then make us wait for the infrastructure.”

I understand that concern.

It's one reason I championed the use of Infrastructure Development Districts, or IDDs, in Franklin. An IDD provides another financing tool that can allow infrastructure to be constructed earlier while creating a more direct connection between the cost of that infrastructure and the new properties that benefit from it, rather than spreading those costs broadly across existing taxpayers.

IDDs probably deserve a Worth Explaining of their own, so I'll spare you the mechanics today. But the principle matters: if the public wants infrastructure earlier, we need financing tools capable of moving infrastructure earlier.

We're also becoming more intentional about something even simpler—when required infrastructure has to be finished.
Residents have told us clearly that they don't want families moving into new developments while promised traffic improvements remain unfinished. We're listening. From major developments like Harlin to smaller developments like Poplar Reserve, we've increasingly placed conditions on approvals requiring identified roadway improvements to be completed before the first certificate of occupancy is issued.

In plain English: build the required road improvements before the first family moves in.

All of this matters because it demonstrates that “growth should pay for growth” isn't simply something we say. We've been adjusting policy to make the connection between growth and its infrastructure needs stronger and more direct.

But there's another side of the equation that is equally important to understand. Not every road in Franklin is actually a Franklin road.

Many of the major corridors we drive every day—Hillsboro Road, Columbia Pike, Murfreesboro Road, Highway 96 and Mack Hatcher Parkway—are state routes. We think of them as ours because they're in our community and we're the ones sitting in traffic on them, but major improvements to those corridors depend heavily on the Tennessee Department of Transportation and state and federal transportation funding.

A developer can build a neighborhood street. A project can be required to add a turn lane or improve an adjacent intersection. Franklin can collect impact fees and invest hundreds of millions of dollars in our transportation system.

But no subdivision can complete Mack Hatcher Parkway. No commercial development can widen Highway 96 across Franklin.
Those roads aren't carrying only the residents of the newest neighborhood, either. They're carrying longtime Franklin residents, Williamson County residents, commuters traveling into and through Franklin, commercial traffic and visitors. They are regional infrastructure serving a regional economy.
And that's where the scale of Tennessee's infrastructure challenge becomes important.

Tennessee has historically taken great pride in funding transportation primarily through a pay-as-you-go model. Unlike many states, we've generally avoided borrowing money to build our highway system. There is a lot to admire about that fiscal discipline.

But growth has outpaced the model.

TDOT leadership recently suggested Tennessee's transportation needs could be as high as $82 billion. State leaders are now discussing funding approaches—including the possibility of using debt for transportation infrastructure—that would represent a significant departure from Tennessee's traditional model.

That doesn't mean Tennessee has been irresponsible. It means the infrastructure demands created by decades of growth, particularly in Middle Tennessee, are now significantly larger than the traditional funding system has been able to address.
And Franklin sits right in the middle of that challenge. Which brings us to the chicken-and-egg problem. People understandably ask, “Why don't we just build the infrastructure before we allow the development?”

Whenever possible, I think we should do a better job of exactly that. That's why we've added tools like IDDs and why we're increasingly requiring certain infrastructure improvements before occupancy.

But some of the resources used to build tomorrow's infrastructure are generated by the growth occurring today. Road impact fees aren't collected until development occurs. Parkland fees aren't generated without new homes. Developers don't construct turn lanes, extend utilities or dedicate right-of-way for projects that don't exist.

If we stopped all development tomorrow, we wouldn't suddenly solve the infrastructure challenges we already have.
We would also stop generating some of the revenue and private investment we're using to solve them. That's the part of the equation I think sometimes gets lost.

So, does growth pay for itself? Increasingly, we're making sure it carries its fair share.

We're requiring significant direct infrastructure investment. We've substantially increased impact fees. We're using those dollars alongside other City resources to make hundreds of millions of dollars in transportation investments. We've adopted new financing tools intended to move infrastructure earlier. And we're increasingly requiring critical improvements to be completed before people move in.

But “growth should pay for growth” can't reasonably mean that the family buying a new home in Franklin today should somehow be responsible for solving decades of regional transportation needs on roads serving hundreds of thousands of people.

And as I wrote recently about housing, there is another tradeoff we have to acknowledge. Every additional fee or assessment added to a new home ultimately increases the cost of bringing that home to market. If we're not thoughtful, a policy intended to make growth “pay for itself” can also make housing less attainable for the very teachers, first responders, young families and working professionals we say we want to remain part of our community.

That doesn't mean we shouldn't charge impact fees. We should. It means we have to understand that these decisions are connected.

The goal shouldn't be growth at any cost. Nor should it be stopping growth at all costs.

The goal should be making sure new growth carries a fair and increasingly direct share of the costs it creates, while responsibly planning, saving, investing and advocating for the larger infrastructure that no individual development—or even one city—can fund alone.

That's a much harder answer than simply saying, “Growth should pay for itself.”

But that's why it's Worth Explaining.

08/21/2026

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been writing a little more about some of the issues we’re wrestling with as a community—growth and housing, how our zoning standards work, annexation, and why some decisions at City Hall are more complicated than they may first appear.

The response has been both encouraging and instructive. A lot of you have told me that you appreciate having more of the context behind these issues, even when you don’t necessarily agree with every conclusion or decision.

That matters to me, because I think there’s a gap in the way we communicate about local government.

Too much political commentary seems designed to win an argument, tear someone down, or reduce a complicated issue to a sound bite. The other option is often simply silence.

I think we can do better. We need to do better.

Those of us serving in local government have a responsibility to do more than tell you what we decided. We should also make an effort to explain how things work, why decisions get made, what tradeoffs are involved, and sometimes what we’re learning along the way.

I’ve decided to give these pieces a name. What can I say? I’m a branding and naming guy by profession—I wasn’t going to be able to leave them unnamed forever. I'm calling the series...

Worth Explaining.

I like it because it describes not only what these essays are about, but when I intend to write them.

Let me be clear: these aren't going to become a guaranteed weekly or every other week post. I don't want to manufacture something simply because the calendar says it's time to publish. But when I see our community wrestling with an issue, hear a question repeatedly, or sit through a meeting that presents an opportunity to explain something I think would be helpful to understand, I’ll try to take the time to do it.

And yes, sometimes they’ll be long. Okay, maybe most of the time. It's not that I don't hear you. I really do try to watch the word count.

But growth, housing, infrastructure, zoning, budgets, and the other issues facing Franklin aren't particularly simple. Brevity is useful until it comes at the expense of understanding. My goal isn't to convince you that I'm right. It's to give you enough information and context to reach your own conclusions—even if you ultimately disagree with mine.

There are plenty of places to go for quick takes. My hope is to create a little space for something different—for the issues, decisions, processes, and pressures facing our community that are simply Worth Explaining.

And while I just told you there won't be a predictable schedule, I can already break that rule a little.

Check back Monday.

The next Worth Explaining is one I've been wanting to tackle for a while:

“If Growth Is Supposed to Pay for Itself... Does It?”

Who actually pays for the roads, parks, utilities, and other infrastructure that come with growth? What does development pay for? What does the City pay for? What belongs to the state? And why can't we simply build all the infrastructure first?

Turns out, that's a topic that is definitely Worth Explaining!

08/14/2026

If It’s the Rule, Why Do We Make Exceptions?

At a recent Board of Mayor and Aldermen meeting, Alderman Greg Caesar made a comment that resonated: “The standard should be the standard and the change should be the exception.”

I agree with him. But his comment also raises a really good question: If Franklin has a zoning ordinance full of standards governing how things should be built, why does that same ordinance include a process that allows those standards to be modified? Why have a rule if we're sometimes going to make an exception to it?

The answer gets at something about local government that I don't think we explain very well.

A zoning ordinance can't anticipate every circumstance.
Franklin's zoning ordinance contains hundreds of standards covering everything from building setbacks and street connections to parking, landscaping, signage, sidewalks and building design. Those standards matter. They provide consistency and predictability. A homeowner, business owner, developer or neighbor should be able to look at our ordinance and have a reasonable understanding of what can - and cannot - be built.

But Franklin also has thousands of individual properties, and no two are exactly alike. Some are flat while others have significant slopes. Some contain streams or floodplains. Some are historic. Some have unusual shapes, environmental constraints or existing development around them. Occasionally, applying a perfectly reasonable standard to a particular property produces an unreasonable - or simply worse - outcome.

That's why the zoning ordinance itself includes a process called a Modification of Standards, or MOS. It isn't a way to pretend the standard doesn't exist. The modification process is itself part of the ordinance, created specifically because no ordinance can anticipate every circumstance in which its rules will eventually be applied.

And importantly, MOSs aren't just something developers use.

About a month ago, Alderman Patrick Baggett and I appeared before the Design Review Committee to advocate for a Franklin homeowner seeking a modification involving the roof of his home in one of our historic overlays. By all reasonable measures, we believed what the homeowner was proposing honored the intent of the standard, even though the particular circumstances didn't fit neatly within its technical requirements.

That's exactly the kind of situation a modification process exists to consider.

Sometimes following the standard can produce the wrong outcome.
One of the best examples I've seen came more than a year ago with the Sheridan PUD, a relatively small single-family development along South Berry's Chapel Road.

The surrounding area is largely rural, and residents living nearby in unincorporated Williamson County had understandable concerns about what a new city development could mean for the rural character of their area. Those residents aren't technically my constituents. They don't live within Franklin's city limits and can't vote for me. But they are our neighbors, and I understood what they were trying to protect.

As I looked at the development plan, I realized something important. In several instances, requiring the development to follow all of our normal city standards could actually make the transition to the surrounding countryside worse.

So I brought 14 Modifications of Standards to BOMA as part of our consideration of the development plan. Several involved things you might ordinarily expect in a city development, including streetlights and other infrastructure standards that make perfect sense in most parts of Franklin.

But South Berry's Chapel Road isn't most parts of Franklin. Requiring every suburban standard there would have introduced more urban infrastructure along a rural road and diminished some of the very character our neighbors were asking us to respect.

So we modified the standards.

That's an important part of this discussion because modifications aren't always about allowing someone to do more. Sometimes they're about doing less. Sometimes following every urban standard can actually make a development less compatible with its surroundings, not more.

Context matters.
We saw several other good examples at our most recent BOMA meeting.

One involved a requirement that the finished floor of certain buildings be at least 18 inches above the surrounding grade. There are legitimate aesthetic and design reasons behind that standard. But in this particular circumstance, lowering the foundation height provided better accessibility for people with disabilities. The Board had to weigh the purpose of an architectural standard against the practical benefit of creating a more accessible building, and BOMA unanimously approved the modification.

Another involved Franklin's street-connectivity requirements. Connectivity is generally good planning. Connected streets give residents multiple ways into and out of neighborhoods, disperse traffic and help create a more connected community. But in this particular development, one of those connections would have encountered a blue-line stream and slopes exceeding 14 percent. The principle behind the connectivity standard still made sense. That particular connection didn't.

What happened next is equally important. While allowing modifications to some connectivity standards, the Board also required a significant road improvement and turn lane to be completed before certificates of occupancy could be issued.

Think about those two decisions together. We modified one infrastructure standard because the physical conditions of the property made it impractical, while strengthening another infrastructure requirement to make sure an important road improvement was completed before people moved in. The community has been telling us that infrastructure needs to keep pace with development. We heard that concern and responded to it.

Those decisions aren't contradictory. They're examples of applying judgment to achieve the outcomes our standards were intended to produce.

Sometimes the standard itself needs to evolve.
There's another reason modifications matter. Sometimes the property hasn't changed. The world around the ordinance has.

Signage is a good example. Over the past couple of years, both BOMA and the Planning Commission have wrestled with sign standards that, in some circumstances, we believed had become too restrictive - particularly along the I-65 corridor and within some commercial areas.

We didn't simply throw out the sign ordinance. In some cases, we determined the existing standard was still appropriate. In others, we concluded that a particular request deserved on-going conditional review. And where experience demonstrated that the ordinance itself needed updating, we changed it.

That's actually valuable feedback. If we're repeatedly being asked to modify the same standard - and repeatedly concluding that the modification produces a better outcome - that may be telling us something about the standard itself. Good ordinances shouldn't change with every application, but they shouldn't be frozen in time either.

Staff and BOMA have different responsibilities.
This is another part of the process that I don't think most people outside City Hall would necessarily know.

Our professional staff evaluates applications against the ordinances and policies BOMA has adopted. That's exactly what we want them to do. Staff can't simply decide that they don't want to follow a particular standard in a given situation and ignore it. Their recommendations have to be grounded in the ordinance and in the criteria they're charged with administering. After all, BOMA adopted those rules.

When someone requests a Modification of Standards, however, they're invoking a process that BOMA also placed within that ordinance. The appropriate reviewing body must then consider the standard, the staff recommendation, the circumstances of the property, the purpose behind the rule, precedent, competing priorities and the broader public interest.

That's where judgment enters the process.

A staff recommendation against a modification doesn't necessarily mean staff believes the ultimate outcome would be bad. Staff has a professional responsibility to evaluate the request against the adopted ordinance and applicable criteria. BOMA has the responsibility to consider that analysis alongside the broader circumstances and make a judgment.

That's one of the reasons we have an elected Board in the first place.

Judgment doesn't mean we're always right.
I think that's important to acknowledge. We don't always agree on modifications. Some pass unanimously while others produce considerable debate. Reasonable people can look at exactly the same facts and reach different conclusions.

And we don't always get every judgment right.

What we can do is take that responsibility seriously. A Modification of Standards shouldn't become a matter of convenience or a way of saying, "We don't like this rule, so let's waive it." Our zoning ordinance isn't merely a suggestion.

That's why I keep coming back to Alderman Caesar's comment: The standard should be the standard, and the change should be the exception.

The real question is whether there is a legitimate reason for the exception. Sometimes there isn't, and we should say no. Sometimes, however, rigidly applying the rule produces an outcome that makes less sense—or even works against the reason the standard exists in the first place.

Good governance requires us to recognize both.

Consistency and judgment aren't opposites.
Consistency doesn't always mean treating every property and every circumstance exactly the same. It means applying the same principles thoughtfully and consistently across different circumstances.

We want connected streets, but we don't want to build unnecessary roads through streams and steep slopes. We care about good architectural design, but we also care about accessibility. We value the character of our historic neighborhoods while recognizing when a homeowner's proposal honors the intent of a standard even if it doesn't perfectly fit its technical requirements. We want new city neighborhoods to meet high standards while also recognizing when those standards could unnecessarily diminish the rural character of the county neighborhoods next door.

And we want infrastructure to keep pace with development. Sometimes exercising judgment means requiring that infrastructure to be completed before residents ever move in.

None of those ideas are contradictory. They're examples of why context matters.

If every zoning standard could be applied identically to every property in every circumstance, there wouldn't be much need for judgment—or frankly, for a Modification of Standards process at all.

But cities aren't spreadsheets. They're communities built across real land, with real topography, environmental constraints, homes, businesses, neighbors and consequences.

A good zoning ordinance gives us consistency. A good modification process gives us flexibility. Experience helps us recognize when the ordinance itself needs to evolve. And ultimately, someone still has to exercise judgment.

We won't always agree on those judgments, and we won't always get them right. But that's part of governing, too.

Because governing well isn't simply knowing what the rule says. It's understanding why the rule exists—and taking seriously the responsibility of deciding how that principle should apply when the answer isn't quite as black and white as it first appears.

07/23/2026

The Responsibility of Success
Franklin has once again been named an All-America City, becoming one of only ten communities in the nation to receive the honor in 2026. It is the second time Franklin has earned the designation, following our first award in 2020. That recognition says something meaningful about who we are. Franklin is a community that plans carefully, values civic engagement and has demonstrated an ability to bring people together around difficult challenges.

It is also a reminder of why so many people want to be here. Families want to raise their children in Franklin. Businesses want to invest here. Visitors come to experience our history, our downtown, our parks and the character generations of residents have worked carefully to preserve.

None of that happened by accident. It is the result of thoughtful planning, strong schools, sound financial management and countless decisions made over many years to balance preservation with progress.

But with success comes responsibility. And success requires stewardship.

Franklin’s estimated population grew from 83,890 in 2020 to more than 94,000 in 2025, an increase of more than 12 percent in just five years. The number of households grew even faster, increasing by nearly 14 percent during the same period. Those changes occurred as Middle Tennessee continued attracting employers, investment and residents from across the country.

Demand for housing has grown accordingly. Home prices and rents have risen. Young families face a steeper climb toward ownership. Teachers, police officers, firefighters, public employees and many private-sector workers increasingly live farther from the community they serve.

A recent independent housing needs assessment commissioned by the Williamson County Association of Realtors estimates that Franklin faces a five-year housing gap of 10,036 units between 2025 and 2030. That estimate includes 3,798 rental units and 6,238 for-sale units across a range of incomes and price points.

That number will understandably cause some people to recoil. I expect at least a few rants in the comments. But wait.

It does not mean Franklin should immediately approve 10,000 new homes. It does not mean every need must be met through new construction, and it certainly does not mean every available acre should be developed.

However, one conclusion is difficult to avoid: Franklin’s housing demand and available supply are seriously out of balance.
That imbalance is visible throughout the report. At the time of the assessment, half of Franklin’s available homes were listed at $875,000 or more. A household would need an estimated annual income of at least $262,500 to reasonably afford a home at that price. More than 10,500 Franklin households were already spending over 30 percent of their income on housing.

These are not abstract housing-policy statistics to me.

My daughter is a new teacher. My youngest son is a new firefighter serving in Nolensville. The questions facing young educators, first responders and families trying to establish themselves are not theoretical conversations happening somewhere else. They are lived experiences within my own home.

I see how difficult it is for young people beginning meaningful careers to find a realistic path toward living in or near the communities they serve. I also understand how much our cities depend upon them. The housing imbalance affects the public works employee maintaining our infrastructure, the healthcare worker caring for our loved ones and the adult child who grew up in Franklin but no longer sees a realistic path back.

It also affects traffic.

The study estimates that more than 76,000 people commute into Franklin for work each day. Those commuters account for nearly 87 percent of the people employed within the city, and more than 14,000 travel over 50 miles.

That fact challenges one of the most persistent misunderstandings in Franklin’s growth debate: the belief that approving housing creates the demand for housing.

It does not.

Demand is created when people want or need to live near jobs, schools, family, services and opportunity. Franklin’s economy, schools, public safety, quality of life and place within a rapidly growing region have created that demand over many years. Our success attracts businesses and residents. Regional employers create jobs. Families move to Middle Tennessee. Children grow up and form households of their own.

Housing approvals determine how much of that demand can be accommodated within Franklin. They do not determine whether the demand exists.

When housing supply does not keep pace with demand, the demand does not simply disappear. It appears in other forms: higher prices, higher rents, longer commutes, greater pressure on neighboring communities and fewer opportunities for working families to live near their jobs.

In that sense, saying no to housing does not necessarily stop growth. It may simply push housing farther away - while the jobs, schools, medical services, shopping and daily activity remain here. The result can be more traffic crossing city and county lines even though fewer homes are being built within the city.

This does not mean every development proposal should be approved. It does not mean housing should be added without regard for roads, schools, water, wastewater, public safety, parks or neighborhood character. Those concerns are real, and they are among the reasons Franklin must remain mindful of the balance.

Housing supply and growth are related, but they are not interchangeable. Demand is regional. Housing decisions are largely local. Infrastructure responsibilities are divided among cities, counties, the state and private development. Responsible leadership requires understanding how all four fit together.

Growth creates demand, housing responds to demand, and infrastructure supports both.
The wrong response to a housing shortage would be to chase an arbitrary unit count while ignoring the cost of serving those homes. Franklin already faces significant infrastructure needs. Our roads are under regional pressure. Water and wastewater systems require investment. Public safety, schools and parks must grow responsibly with the community.

At the same time, Franklin has not ignored those responsibilities.

Our current ten-year capital program includes nearly $460 million in planned investment, with approximately 82 percent directed toward transportation. When major investments such as the Southeast Wastewater Treatment Plant and the Mack Hatcher Southeast Extension are included, Franklin’s combined infrastructure investments begin to approach $1 billion, even as the city maintains one of the lowest municipal property tax rates among comparable cities.

We are not standing still.

But infrastructure investment and housing planning cannot occur independently. They must inform one another.

The question is not simply, “How do we build more housing?” It is, “How do we provide the housing Franklin genuinely needs, in appropriate places, without transferring additional infrastructure costs to existing residents or compromising the character of the city?” That is a much harder question, but it is the one worth asking.

Two recent pieces of legislation may give Franklin new tools to explore that question.

The federal 21st Century ROAD to Housing Act was recently enacted with broad bipartisan support. Its purpose is to increase the nation’s housing supply by addressing barriers to construction, improving access to capital, supporting local planning and limiting additional purchases of single-family homes by very large institutional investors.

Congressman Matt Van Epps recently summarized the underlying argument directly: housing costs are too high in part because there are not enough homes.

That may be an uncomfortable sentence in Franklin, where almost every conversation about housing is immediately translated into a debate about development. But discomfort does not make the basic economics untrue.

At the state level, the Tennessee General Assembly created the Essential Governmental Employee Housing Act of 2026. The act allows financially qualified local governments to explore the development, ownership, financing and operation of housing for essential public employees. It recognizes that a shortage of attainable housing can interfere with the ability of cities and school systems to recruit and retain the people required to provide essential public services.

That legislation could also reopen a conversation Franklin has had before. I previously worked with a resident who wanted to donate land for housing for city employees. At the time, the path forward was not clear enough for the idea to gain traction. This new state authority may give that kind of conversation more substance and create an opportunity to revisit whether donated land, public-private partnerships or other locally controlled approaches could serve a defined workforce need.

The two laws approach the challenge differently, but together they provide Franklin with additional tools worth studying.

Could Franklin use them to help teachers, police officers, firefighters and public employees live closer to the community they serve? Could we create high-quality housing that reflects Franklin’s character rather than lowering our standards? Could housing be thoughtfully connected to major employment areas and the transportation options Franklin is working to improve through its new Transit Master Plan?

Could carefully structured Infrastructure Development Districts also help ensure that new development contributes appropriately toward the public facilities it requires? That question connects directly to the work I led in bringing an IDD policy to Franklin. I supported IDDs because I believed they could become another tool for creating attainable housing, better infrastructure and stronger public amenities. I have also repeatedly stated that they must not become growth accelerators.

The same principle should apply here.

The ROAD to Housing Act, the Essential Governmental Employee Housing Act and IDDs should not be viewed as mandates to build more for the sake of building more. They should be understood as tools within a broader housing and infrastructure toolbox.

Their value depends entirely upon how clearly we define the problem, how carefully we establish guardrails and whether the outcome strengthens Franklin rather than simply increasing unit counts.

Any serious exploration must begin with the problem we are trying to solve.

If the goal is merely to produce more units, the process will favor quantity. If the goal is to preserve Franklin as a functioning community where essential workers, younger families and people at different stages of life have a reasonable opportunity to belong, the solutions may look very different.

They may include rental housing for essential employees. They may include townhomes, cottages, condominiums or other smaller ownership opportunities. They may involve donated land, public-private partnerships, employer participation, community land trusts, redevelopment of underused property or infrastructure assistance tied to enforceable affordability requirements. They may also require Franklin to say no to ideas that do not serve the goal.

I believe Franklin is in a unique position to lead this conversation. We are financially strong. We have experienced staff, thoughtful planning practices and a community that cares deeply about both preservation and progress. We have demonstrated a willingness to make major infrastructure investments without abandoning fiscal discipline.

That does not mean we have all the answers. It does mean we have both the opportunity and the responsibility to explore solutions that many communities simply cannot.

Leadership in this moment does not mean announcing a finished housing initiative or pretending one policy can solve a regional market problem. It means stewarding the discussion.

Most importantly, we should steward the facts, so the debate is not driven by hyperbole, misinformation or assumptions that do not withstand scrutiny.

We should respect the people who have worked on these issues for years, while creating space for perspectives that may not fit neatly into familiar political and bureaucratic boxes.
We must also steward the legitimate concerns of residents who worry about traffic, infrastructure, taxes and the loss of Franklin’s character. Those concerns should not be dismissed as resistance to change. They should help establish the standards any solution must meet.

Above all, we should steward the people at the center of the issue: those who teach our children, protect our homes, maintain our roads and utilities, care for our families, staff our businesses and hope to build lives in the community they serve.

I do not yet know precisely how Franklin could or should use these new tools, or whether every option would ultimately fit our needs. I do know that the housing pressure is real, the regional demand is not going away and the consequences of doing nothing will not be neutral.

They will show up in prices, commutes, traffic, recruitment, retention and the gradual narrowing of who gets to call Franklin home.

Preserving Franklin cannot mean simply preserving buildings, boundaries and open space. It must also mean preserving a community that can continue to function, serve its residents and offer opportunity across generations.

That will require vision, careful analysis, a disciplined focus on the problem we are trying to solve and the resolve to reject both easy answers and false choices.

Franklin has earned national recognition not because we avoid difficult challenges, but because we have demonstrated the ability to face them together.

This is one of those challenges. And I believe it is a discussion worth stewarding, not dismissing or ignoring.

Address

Franklin, TN
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Website

https://mattbrownforfranklin.com/

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