RtOW: Chapter 1 - The Vermont Way
“If you’re ever in a ditch, someone will pull you out”-that’s the core shared value of the Vermont Way.
*Editor’s Note* For the next several Saturdays, I will be posting an excerpt from my book, “Rediscovering the Oregon Way.” This effort started two years ago in the middle of my current role as a graduate school student. I spent weekend mornings doing research, late nights conducting interviews, and spare moments looking for typos.
Wisconsinites have an Idea. Vermonters have a Way. Chattanoogans established a Way of their own. And Oregonians proudly refer to the Oregon Way. These Ways and others like them differ in their origins and intentions but build off common elements: shared values, strong social institutions, enforced norms, and a commitment to participatory democratic processes.
An introduction to political culture and Ways
Ways are a more precise formulation of what is traditionally referred to as political culture. Identifying specific Ways requires understanding what makes up political cultures. A survey of definitions of political culture reveals some common elements from which to inform our own conception of the term. Wyn Grant, President of the Political Studies Association, describes political culture as the “attitudes, beliefs, and values which underpin the operation of [its] particular political system." Others regard it as the “the informal ‘morality’ of politics upon whose foundation formal political activity—political institutions and state forms—rests.” Political scientist, Gabriel Almond, centered his definition on the idea of patterns of orientations, with the idea that a political culture could be empirically assessed through tracking political activity.
The aforementioned sample of definitions is not representative of how all political scientists think of political culture. In fact, some view defining political culture akin to “an attempt to nail a pudding to the wall.” A few scholars go as far as to call analysis of political culture a fool’s errand that reflects a political scientist’s inability to come up with any other explanation for a particular event or outcome. The academic battle over the usefulness of political culture lies outside the scope of this book, which will assume that research related to political cultures does have explanatory power related to understanding civic affairs. For what it’s worth, Associate Professor J. Wesley Leckrone makes clear that political cultures have both explanatory power as well as the power to influence decision making. Political cultures can produce "better explanation[s] of political participation, policy activism, and the size of the government bureaucracy than traditional indicators such as ideology and levels of economic wealth." Additionally, analysis of politicians’ decisions shows that they rely on their jurisdiction’s political culture to come to policy conclusions and think through the right mix of redistributive activity.
Each of the sample definitions hits on political culture being visible through tracking behavior, trends, norms, and values. Importantly, though, none of the definitions explicitly reference the role of geography in shaping political culture. The selection of an explicit geography and inclusion of that geography’s history is what distinguishes a Way from political culture. More so than described in the aforementioned political culture definitions, a Way can be thought of as a specific place’s story or, in some cases, myth. A Way provides a narrative to help residents understand themselves, their ancestors and predecessors, and their collective future. Like any story, Ways contain key values, heroes and villains, rising and falling action, and an origin story; they also serve some instructional value—serving as anecdotes intended to direct people to adopt certain norms and engage with specific institutions.
You can further distinguish between a Way and political culture by thinking about the relationship of a sect to a broader religion. Catholics and Protestants pray to the same God and adhere to specific practices, routines, and rituals but those activities look quite different. A political culture could prize civic engagement but Ways within that culture would feature different structures for residents to get involved. And, just as sects and religions earn certain emotion-based stereotypes (think Catholic guilt), Ways and political cultures have emotional components; one definition of political culture—“[t]he configuration of ideas, attitudes, biases and emotional attachments which characterize a political community…”—hits on these intangible aspects. Looking into a political culture or a Way means diving into activities as well as emotional elements; looking at a Way just requires going a layer deeper and/or one jurisdiction smaller.
Deeper dive into political culture and what distinguishes Ways
Political archaeologists, people that dig behind the headlines and into things like popular activities and sentiments, have used the framework of a political culture to grok the politics of fairly large geographies and expansive time windows. Daniel Elazar helped popularize the idea of political culture in his book, American Federalism: A View from the States. Though the book was published in the 1980s, it is still regarded by political scientists such as Professor J. Wesley Leckrone of Widener University as the “preeminent examination of political culture” and has “dominated” the study of state and local political culture. In American Federalism, Elazar outlines three buckets of political cultures and places each U.S. state into a bucket.
Which of the three buckets—individualistic, moralistic, or traditionalistic cultures—a jurisdiction lands in depends on a test derived by Elazar. More specifically, Elazar uses four factors to sort states into a bucket; those factors include: the origins of the state’s resettlers, the structure of the state government, the people’s attitude toward and aspirations for its government and officials, and the incentives shaping the actions of that state’s politicians., From these factors Elazar believes three questions get settled: the purpose and bailiwick of government action, who participates in governance and in what ways, and the nature of the relationship between constituent and official such as the level of trust between the two.
The answers that Elazar derives from his test are fairly robust. According to a study conducted by Charles A. Johnson, the impact of political cultures, as defined by Elazar, withstands the ebb and flow of economic conditions and differences in socioeconomic variables. This resilience speaks to the staying power of political cultures. Not only do political cultures transcend business cycles and certain demographic differences, they also have a significant relationship with government activities, local emphasis and administration of programs, innovative government activity, encouragement of political participation, actual political participation, and party competition. Political cultures matter. The strength and nature of a political culture can steer a place in very different policy directions. This power justifies applying a refined version of Elazar’s framework rather than settling for seeing all jurisdictions as individualistic, moralistic, or traditionalistic based solely on four factors.
Using some of the same factors as Elazar while also adding more nuanced considerations, it becomes possible to get an even better understanding of the political culture of an area, what can be defined as that area’s Way. And once a Way has been identified, it can be traced and monitored over time to better understand how that Way looked during an area’s past and will look in its future.
Why Ways are superior to Elazar’s conception of political culture
Elazar's classification system groups Vermont, Wisconsin, and Oregon together as moralistic states, while placing Tennessee in the camp of the traditionalists. Yet analysis of the Ways of Vermont, Wisconsin, and Oregon reveals distinct political cultures that must be identified and further defined in order to be preserved. Go back to the idea of religions as political cultures and Ways as sects. You cannot expect Catholicism to maintain its unique practices and emotional sentiments by telling its adherents to follow the tenets of Christianity—doing so would result in starkly different practices. You teach Catholicism by labeling and relating what makes it unique among the other sects.
In the same way, it is not enough to know that Vermont, Wisconsin, and Oregon are moralistic: they may look the same under Elazar’s four factors, but on a more granular level the residents of each state have different daily behaviors and attitudes that inform their respective state’s civic affairs. Just as grouping entire states together can mask differences, attempting to assign a political culture to an entire state may blur the differences that exist within regions of that state. Analysis of the City of Chattanooga, Tennessee indicates that even within states, political cultures can differ tremendously. It is possible that smaller conceptions of political cultures, such as the Way in Chattanooga, can paint a better picture of what helps and hinders a Way from becoming applicable to a larger political geography.
In other words, because the development of Chattanooga’s Way occurred within a state with a different political culture, Chattanooga can show two things: first, what differentiates a Way from a political culture; and, second, what factors must be in place for a Way to form and sustain itself. Chattanooga creating it’s Way despite being surrounded by a larger, different political culture reveals the limits of Elazar’s approach to labeling and applying political cultures. It follows that what has helped Chattanooga carve out a Way may shed light on how Oregon has developed a Way distinct from even those states similarly grouped in the “moralistic” category as well as from those states, such as California and Washington, that otherwise share much in common with Oregon.
To further explore what constitutes a Way as well as how Ways are formed and maintained, the next section and chapters will analyze Ways in Vermont, Wisconsin, and Chattanooga. Collectively, these analyses will reaffirm the limits of Elazar’s system and set up a more thorough exploration of Oregon’s Way.
Vermont’s Way
“If you’re ever in a ditch, someone will pull you out.” That’s the core shared value of the Vermont Way, according to State Senator Kesha Ram. For Ram, the Vermont Way centers on individual empowerment and community involvement. Vermonters want to be left alone while also not being left out. They respect privacy but crave the latest community news. They value self-sufficiency but want to be there if someone is in need. They want their neighbors to get by but without being told how to do so. Based on these preferences, communities around the state have developed distinctive versions of the four tenets of a Way: norms, values, social institutions, and democratic processes.
Vermonters have managed to weave the Vermont Way into just about every aspect of governance. This style of governance can be heard in the statehouse halls and observed on the political calendar. The state’s formal democratic processes have evolved to incorporate the peoples’ norms and values, including being communal and collaborative, respectively. Even the start of legislative business fosters these attributes of the state’s Way. Visit Montpelier on the right day and you may witness a bipartisan choir of state officials—The Statehouse Singers—serenading their colleagues before kicking-off the day’s legislative agenda. If you are skeptical that singing together can facilitate working together, consider that research out of the Harvard Kennedy School shows that something as simple as legislators sitting next to another can result in them collaborating more frequently. The impact of simply sitting together shows that the various attributes of a Way are compounding. In isolation, a bunch of legislators singing would not be especially remarkable. The combination of singing in a bipartisan fashion, during formal legislative business, and with regularity is what makes this an expression of Vermont’s Way and an example of that Way affecting civic affairs.
Outside the statehouse, the Vermont Way runs through a specific social institution: the community center—which oftentimes is the local school—of each town. These centers become hubs of civic activity on at least a monthly basis, when town meetings take place. Attend a town meeting and you will witness the exchange of everything from baked goods to best practices for the legalization of marijuana. If you miss a meeting, there will be other opportunities to get wrapped up in the latest news. Vermont State Senator Becca Balint would suggest two opportunities in particular: attend a community farmers’ market and then make a stop at the local pool (in the summer). In those two stops alone, you will have encountered the majority of your neighbors and heard nearly every political update necessary. It’s a routine that Senator Balint has mastered in order to communicate with all her constituents. But why two stops?
She acknowledges that the stops cater to different audiences⏤there are “pool” people and there are “farmers market” people. These groups increasingly do not overlap. Their separation is a symptom of Vermonters struggling to overcome forces—such as income inequality and the nationalization of politics—pulling them into separate bubbles. But the presence of people like Senator Balint is ensuring those bubbles do not become impenetrable walls. Wherever she goes, Senator Balint—and others like her—act as a string that makes sure those bubbles don’t get too far apart. The Senator has several strategies for lassoing disparate bubbles together. One such strategy is her weekly column in her local paper, The Brattleboro Reformer. The column may not generate as much attention as a scandalous Facebook post, but it nevertheless links people to a common source of information. In writing a regular column that encourages debate and then integrates any substantive feedback, Balint perpetuates the Way by creating a virtuous cycle.
The virtuous cycle, like a washer, has various stages. Stage one: the column, a kind of social institution itself, creates a norm of the exchange of information and values (representative to constituent). Stage two: the first exchange of information and values fosters a second exchange (constituent to constituent) made possible by having social institutions that cause folks to interact and norms that encourage talking about civic matters like a senator’s column. Stage three: a democratic process (the election of a high number of officials per constituent) allows the Senator to truly engage with her constituents (constituent to representative) about her column and other related issues. When these stages are functioning, shared values emerge, sparking the Senator’s next column and another cycle. So whether you are a pool-goer or a market-shopper, Vermonters have grown to expect social institutions that reflect their values and advance norms—norms that are accentuated and celebrated by democratic processes that embody and respond to shared values.
But, as has been documented elsewhere, this sort of virtuous cycle has been disrupted as avenues for exchange become harder to find. Senator Balint sadly reports that Vermont has struggled to preserve places like the Restless Rooster, a cafe in her district that recently closed, capable of attracting people from every station and mindset (yes, even pool- and market-people). With the loss of these social institutions, Vermonters have become susceptible to sorting themselves into “Two Vermonts” because the chances to see shared values and reinforce norms have dissipated.
The political skirmish surrounding the legalization of civil unions perhaps best conveyed this fissure. Senator Balint recounts driving by billboards, funded by folks opposed to the change, that called for residents to “Take Back Vermont.” This language obscured (poorly) disrespect and intolerance; and, it represented values that did not unite a large segment of the population.
Anti-gay marriage advocates derided what they perceived as the latest attempt by “Back-to-Landers,” a reference to the 1970s movement that resulted in an inflow of liberal people to Vermont, intent on transforming the state’s politics and values. The political discourse in Vermont turned sour and personal; some spectators went as far as to call it a Civil War. Incivility infiltrated every nook and cranny. When Senator Balint and her wife moved into a new neighborhood, they recalled seeing their neighbor’s garage covered by a “Take Back Vermont” sign. The Vermont Way was forking and fragmenting right before her eyes as well as the eyes of the rest of the country. National attention shifted to the Green Mountain State and exacerbated tensions by further delineating Vermonters into opposing teams.
Years and decades of accumulated practical knowledge and cultural sentiments brought the fracturing Way together again; the divide caused by civil unions did not destroy the activities and attitudes associated with the Vermont Way. Practical knowledge of how to redirect decisive conversations into democratic processes allowed Vermont officials to temper or, at least, channel debates into moderated spaces. Cultural sentiments, manifested as norms and values, helped leaders identify common ground off of which to move conversations forward in a more cordial and collaborative style. Social institutions such as community centers housed these conversations and allowed attention to shift back to what Vermonters had in common.
A specific democratic process⏤frequent convenings of the State’s House of Representatives⏤became one such arena for more productive conversations. This process enabled officials to gather with the intent of stemming the discord that had disrupted the state. Then-Vermont State Representative John Edwards worked collaboratively with a cadre of fellow Judiciary Committee members to identify a path forward despite external discord. Eventually, it was the Committee’s Vice Chair, William Libbert, who found that path. The support he garnered was earned through following the Vermont Way. A play-by-play of the negotiations that resulted in the final compromise is for a different book, but based on Senator Balint's characterization of the Vermont Way—a political culture forged through spending time and energy on simply getting to understand your neighbor—it is safe to say Vice Chair Libbert’s process involved a lot of conversations and compromises. Ultimately, Representative Edwards support for the bill came with a political price—he lost his bid for re-election. His vote, though, helped reinforce the notion that compromise and candor are inherent to public service and public discourse in Vermont. The state was temporarily blown off that course but has since largely recovered.
The Vermont Way is, in part, still intact because the state’s demographics have remained fairly constant, allowing for the smoother transmission of practical knowledge and cultural sentiments. Even during Vermont’s “Civil War” over gay marriage, opponents tended to share childhood experiences, community memories, and an overall love for Vermont. Those areas of overlap are hard to spot among more diverse communities. It is easy to share norms and values with your son or daughter or neighbor and co-worker; sharing the Way with strangers is a little more awkward. Ram, not an official Vermonter, reports that Vermont is still a state influenced more by familial and social connections more so than merit and intention. For better and worse, a Way does not depend on credentials. It relies on communication. And talking with people from different belief systems, geographies, and backgrounds can be difficult. That’s why Senator Balint reports a need to make the state more welcoming if its Way is going to persist. Vermonters of all tenures need to be able to talk with one another.
Senator Balint has already discovered the best conversation starter for bringing old and new Vermonters together—shared admiration for the state. “I'm in Vermont," explained Senator Balint, "because the first time I set foot in the state, I felt like I was truly at home. A number of my colleagues [and Vermonters, in general,] would tell you the same.” If Vermont continues to try to expand its population via migration, then it will soon find many more seeking to call it home. Vibrant and numerous social institutions such as libraries, public access TV, and the Front Porch Forum (a hyper-local community blog) are ready to accommodate new Vermonters. These will be the forums for the exchange of stories and creation of shared memories. The state’s democratic processes are similarly open to Vermonters of all durations. What’s left to Vermonters is updating its norms and values to care less about Vermont roots and more about Vermont love.
The “Aloha” spirit
This transition is far from impossible. As a brief aside, consider the “Aloha” spirit of Hawaii. Whereas Vermont is the 48th most diverse state in the nation, Hawaii is number three. That diversity is a source of community rather than a barrier to it because Hawaii is also among the top states when it comes to integrating people of different backgrounds. A growing segment of Hawaii’s population has roots around the world, confounding any conscious or subconscious efforts to structure society around race. Consequently, the island’s diverse and integrated population makes racial divides that would usually undermine the formation and vibrancy of a Way less common.
Love for Hawaii and demonstration of its values has created an “us” that is ethnically diverse and united by a similar place-based appreciation for the state—the same sort of appreciation Senator Balint and many others have for Vermont. Importantly, while the labeling of an “us” leads to the assumption of a clear “them,” research of Hawaii’s political culture challenges the need to juxtapose every in-group with an out-group or, at a minimum, suggests that in-groups are not automatically divisize. According to social psychologist Marilynn Brewer, "The assumption that groups are competitive, that out-group hate is a correlate of in-group love, that it’s built on our evolution as a social species—it’s just not true."
In-group love can have predominantly positive impacts on a nation, state, or even a city. Realizing those impacts while paring back any signs of out-group hate, however, is a difficult task. Vermonters, for example, crossed the line when love for the state was used as an excuse to prosecute members of the LGBTQA+ community. As will be discussed below, love for Oregon has at times justified excluding others (i.e. Californians) rather than uniting around a shared appreciation for a state, regardless of background and ideology. And, the mere presence of in-group love—such as on Hawaii—does not guarantee harmony nor equality. “[Hawaiians] need to work on the ways in which [they] continue to foster unequal opportunities for groups,” according to Jonathan Y. Okamura, a professor of ethnic studies at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. A successful Way, then, not only builds an inclusive “us” that focuses on the common love for a place over individual differences but also uses that in-group love as a means for making that place an even better place to call home.
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On first impression, I'd place Oregon in the "individualist" category of Elazar's classifications of political culture. But, rather than settling on any one characterization, I think it's more useful to apply classifications of this sort as one would apply different lenses to an object under a microscope or dyes to an organism -- each illuminates something different. Any political culture is a braided combination of multiple norms and "habits of the heart" to use Tocqueville's phrase.
That said, I think demography and sense of place, both of which you mention, are revealing lenses or dyes to use in these studies.
Demography seems to be the most fluid element in this equation. Here in Oregon, the in-migration to our urban areas could be driving the urban-rural divide and totemizing our recent history -- think of the image of the Portland Timbers in a sport that is mostly metropolitan in its appeal.
As to place, I have always been impressed with how often Oregonians, new and old, mention the beauty of the state as as a top-of-mind item for why they like about living here. That appears to be a defining value for Oregonians. But it was overshadowed by the timber wars in recent decades and is now complicated by a marked change in how we recreate in our wild areas -- a large decline in hunting and fishing among younger Oregonians (and all Americans) and an increase in hiking, cycling etc. The ways we relate to place is also subject to an urban-rural divide. But I still think that our shared appreciation for the diversity of physical beauty across the state and a concern for protecting our wildlife and untouched places is a foundational value that can help us re-establish the more broadly shared approach to politics that we're struggling to re-define as the Oregon Way.