What Do Rural Voters Want? Democrats Just Aren’t Listening

(Bloomberg Opinion) -- The big story of 2021’s state elections — one that set off head scratching and alarm bells across Democratic Party and media circles — was how Republicans accelerated their upward trajectory among rural voters.

Glenn Youngkin, Virginia’s Republican governor-elect, topped 70% of the vote in 45 rural counties. Republican Jack Ciattarelli doubled former President Donald Trump’s dominant 2020 margins in New Jersey’s four most rural counties to nearly defeat the incumbent Governor Phil Murphy.

There are many reasons for this growing chasm between urban and rural voting patterns. At the center, however, are divergent views on American culture, education, history and basic notions of good governance.

This should prompt a reckoning among Democrats. But as analysts come to terms with the party’s narrow electoral paths and growing over-reliance on an urban voting base, they talk about improving “messaging” to rural areas rather than using policy to address class-based and cultural gaps in substantive ways.

Commentary in Politico, the New York Times, the Washington Post and other outlets zeroed in on the Democrats’ “branding problem,” lack of sustained on-the-ground organizing and insufficient communication with rural voters about the party’s agenda.

To be fair, some Democratic leaders pinned their hopes on a one-two policy punch: flooding rural areas with dividends from the $1.2 trillion federal infrastructure plan, and expanding social programs via President Joe Biden’s Build Back Better agenda.

But re-crafting mantras that most rural voters feel disconnected from — even berated by — and pumping up government funding miss the larger picture. If the Democratic Party wishes to stanch the loss of heartland voters, it needs to start by listening to what they are really saying, and checking its preconceptions at the door.

At the heart of these misunderstandings is the notion among elites that rural dwellers vote against their own interests. The flaw of this analysis lies in the very definition of “interests.” If it means giving up personal autonomy, succumbing to an existence built on government assistance, sublimating one’s patriotism and having to live according to someone else’s playbook, rural dwellers say, “no thanks.” And that’s the way many of them view the Democratic agenda.

This is not because they’re ignorant or brainwashed or duped by Republicans who “take their votes for granted” (a notion MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow promoted in a tweet after the election), or because they’re antigovernment radicals. Rather, they recoil from the idea that they are somehow less capable of making moral decisions and determining what makes a “good life” or constitutes a “good society” than those who occupy higher economic, educational and status-bearing stations.

I’ve been on both sides of the urban-rural divide. A born-and-raised Brooklynite, I spent 20 years in urban Democratic politics before choosing the rural path. For more than a decade, my family has lived in northern Maine and New Hampshire. I’ve spent five years researching, reporting from and writing a book about one of the most rural parts of the most rural state in the nation: Washington County, Maine. It’s the last coastal enclave before Canada, and a world away from my previous life and perspectives.

Here, anecdotally, is what I’ve learned about the rural Americans I’ve come to know:

• They are skeptical that a new wave of spending delivered through a maze of codified institutions will improve their daily lives. This is particularly true when they feel federal largesse is to be overseen by leaders who show little interest in trying to understand their way of life. (It may be of some comfort to Democrats that national survey data from the One Country Project found strong sentiment among rural voters that neither party considers their “way of life” when discussing policy priorities.)
• They feel chastised by media portrayals that don’t reflect reality. Just as most urban dwellers aren’t rioting in the streets, most rural residents aren’t storming the U.S. Capitol. Many are too busy working two or three jobs and taking care of their families. But they also tell me they don’t want to be seen as objects of pity or victimization by politicians and the press, and feel their ideas and perspectives need to be treated as worthy of engagement.
• They are proud of their self-sufficiency and wear it as a badge of honor. Many take offense to the idea that they must continually look to Washington to better their lives. Many appreciate that government offers a safety net (not to mention farm subsidies), but worry about being ensnared in that net due to long-term dependence. They’ve seen in some neighbors and family members an inability to break free from Temporary Assistance for Needy Families and other well-intentioned public assistance programs — along with the negative impact they can have on one’s pride and sense of purpose.  Consequently, they resist the notion that adding more programs is the best response to poverty.
• They feel burned by federal regulation and trade policies; resent what they see as mistrust in their ability to self-govern fairly and responsibly; and perceive a tone-deafness to their needs when it comes to where government should step in and where it should not. Maine’s lobster fishermen, whose industry is largely family-owned, are reeling over federal efforts to ban fishing in portions of the Gulf of Maine to protect the right whale population. Many argue they haven’t encountered right whales in their daily work and fear compliance will result in devastating losses. Meanwhile, Maine wild blueberry farmers have struggled with low prices and crop yields in recent years. While recognizing the significant role weather plays, many farmers have pinned their woes on a glut of blueberry imports and pushed for additional trade protections. And echoing a dominant theme in Virginia’s November state elections, many rural Mainers fear government efforts to dictate what they can and cannot teach their kids in school.
• They are proud to be Americans despite the tough economic hand dealt to many of them. Young people at high schools routinely choose career paths in the armed services, not because they have no other options but because they believe the nation is worth defending. Many recognize society’s flaws but believe improvement comes by building upon, not tearing down, the shared national and historical identity.

Above all, perhaps, the people I’ve talked to feel they embody resilience and a sense of optimism in the face of significant challenges. The specific issues will vary from county to county and state to state, but that attitude is one you will find across rural America.

I saw rugged fishermen (and women) regularly rush home from a long day at sea to shower and cheer on their girls’ basketball teams. I saw neighbors banding together to haul lobsters or rake blueberries to help someone who was injured on the job. I witnessed parents and siblings who have seen opioids take loved ones find sustenance in the support of those around them, and emerge determined to protect others from a similar fate. I heard parent after parent, packed to the rafters at a public meeting in the high school gym, plead for a vocational center to increase local job opportunities for their children.

Perhaps more than anything, I was struck by the devotion of rural young people — particularly girls — to the futures of their hometowns, and by their desire to “stay and build” despite economic challenges and limited job opportunities. These are not simply future “beer moms” (as one Democratic activist stereotyped them); they believe that societal progress can be combined with respect for previous generations.

One protagonist in my book, a young woman on the liberal end of her hometown’s political spectrum, had her belief in tolerance shaken when she attended Yale. She decried the political absolutism of the discourse around her. “I reject the idea that all Republicans are evil,” she noted. “I grew up in an area with a lot of nice Republicans. They just have different ideas. We need to be able to work with both sides.”

As a New York transplant who has been welcomed by the people of Downeast Maine, I know that there is ample room for common understanding across the urban-rural divide. Democrats would do well to try and find it.

This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.

Gigi Georges, a former special assistant to President Bill Clinton and program director for innovation studies at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government, is the author of "Downeast: Five Maine Girls and the Unseen Story of Rural America."

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