Fighting the Battle We Know

A few days ago, I read about a book in which author Colin Woodard, a journalist, attempts to explain cultural divides in the United States by identifying the characteristic attitudes and beliefs of various regions. I haven’t read his book, American Nations: A History of the Eleven Rival Regional Cultures in North America, but the premise is fascinating. His theory not only identifies eleven cultural nations that make up North America but also explains how this affects political polarization. In case you had the idea that modern American life has been homogenized coast to coast to a monotonous sameness by pop culture, media, advertising, and commerce, Mr. Woodard is prepared to propose that underlying regional differences, some as old as our nation’s origins (and even older), are real and persistent and continue to shape our outlooks to the present day.

The eleven nations are Yankeedom (New England, the Great Lakes Region, and the Upper Midwest); New Netherland (New York City, Northern New Jersey, and environs); Tidewater (the Mid-Atlantic coast, including Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina); the Deep South (from South Carolina down and as far west as East Texas); Greater Appalachia (which begins in Pennsylvania and includes much of what I would consider the “Upper South,” as far as Texas); the Midlands (starting in New Jersey and encompassing much of the traditional Midwest); New France (centered in New Orleans and Quebec in Canada); El Norte (the Southwest, including Southern California); the Far West (stretching from the Southwest up into the Rocky Mountain states); the Left Coast (coastal Northern California, Oregon, Washington, and Western Canada); and First Nation (the vast territory of Native Americans, with most of its population living in Canada).

That’s it, as I understand it. The nations don’t stop at state lines, of course, so your state may feel the cultural pull of three or four different regions. Most people in Kentucky, where I live, probably think of Appalachia as a particular region in the eastern part of the state, but I agree with Mr. Woodard that its culture is very influential outside the mountains proper. I also think the presence of regions near Kentucky, including the Midlands and Deep South, can be felt here. No doubt Mr. Woodard covers cross-influences and other complexities in his book, but the article (by Business Insider’s Matthew Speiser) just touched on the highlights.

The most interesting aspect of the Eleven Nations idea is the underlying “personality” of each region. You would probably not be surprised to hear that Yankees value education and citizen participation in government, that people in the Far West tend to resent intrusions by the Federal government and outside corporate interests, that Tidewater was settled by aristocrats and continues to reflect some support for tradition, and that Left Coasters maintain a mix of Utopian ideas and a yen for creative expression. I was a bit surprised to see that Southern California belongs to El Norte rather than the Left Coast, which seems to indicate that Mr. Woodard views the hard-working values of Latino culture as taking the upper hand there (I have to think that L.A. is at the confluence of these two nations; it definitely seems part of the Left Coast to me).

I was surprised to see the Midlands described as being very culturally diverse and welcoming; in many areas, I’m sure that’s true, but I have always thought of certain parts of the Midwest as being very “white bread.” The United States is becoming increasingly diverse, so perhaps this is an outmoded notion of mine that is true no longer. I was also surprised to see that the Left Coast is supposed to include strong influences of both Yankeedom and Appalachia; I wonder if that’s actually how Left Coasters see themselves. If there’s truth in this, Appalachian culture in Kentucky is of a quite different variety than I have seen out west, being somewhat more “grounded.” I get the Utopian leanings and emphasis on self-development in a place like San Francisco, but I have always experienced it as much more caught up in fantasy and play than the down-to-earth concerns that are pervasive here.

Interestingly, New Orleans is one of those places that operates almost in a world of its own, a sort of anomaly in the conservative Deep South around it. I’ve only been to New Orleans once, but I have to say it struck me that way, as a place in which I sometimes marveled to think that I was in the United States at all. The culture of fast food, chain stores, and suburbia almost seemed non-existent in the face of a very distinctive cuisine, evidence of refined tastes in everything from shopping to architecture, and a pastiche of cultural influences. Similarly, South Florida, in Mr. Woodard’s scheme, is allied with Caribbean culture, not the Deep South. In my experience of having lived there, long ago, this is true. It’s the tropics; you have to travel north in Florida before you begin to feel that you are entering the South. To move from South Florida to Kentucky, for example, is to experience profound cultural shock.

I was trying to think of a way to line up these Eleven Nations with some sort of mythological idea peculiar to each, and I’m sure there is one, though it also seems to carry the danger of over-simplifying things. Sure, the Tidelands respect for established ways and authority is a very Zeusian thing, and the El Norte identification with hard work and self-reliance might be thought of as Hephaestian, and the New Netherland preoccupation with business and trade might fall into the realm of Hermes, but when I think of the region I live in and know best, it’s hard to think of just one entity that really covers it. If pressed, I guess I might go back to the patron saint of bourbon I imagined in a post from several years ago, a sort of plain-spoken Old Testament type with a penchant for cussing and spitting and fiery speech. I’m just not sure where he fits in the Greek pantheon, which despite its variety doesn’t quite supply a deity for every occasion you might think of.

Finally, Mr. Woodard explains that the most profound political influence coming out of the Eleven Nations is the conflict between Yankeedom and the Deep South, whose very different ideas and attitudes are tough to reconcile. It almost sounds as if we’re still fighting the Civil War, doesn’t it, at least on the political level, Blue against Red. With the nation becoming so much more diverse than it used to be, it’s interesting that this old dynamic is still so strong. The research I’ve done on political divisions indicated that polarization has increased over the last couple of decades, which means that there is an ebb and flow to it, and its strength is dependent on many factors. Perhaps the rapid rate of change has been partly responsible for the nation falling back on this earlier pattern of conflict; it’s certainly a fight we know. It surely seems possible that the influx of new groups and changing demographics might re-shape this conversation over time, though it might be a slow change. It seems to me that the United States, to all appearance a 21st-century nation, has never really healed from the battles of the 19th, and that it is holding us back more than we realize.

To put a mythological face on this aspect of it, Yankeedom’s values, in my mind, align most closely with Athena, goddess of wisdom and intellectual strategy. The values of the Deep South favor a fixed social structure and independence from government control, a sort of authoritarian, self-governing paradigm that speaks of Zeus. Zeus was the father of Athena, who supposedly sprang from his head fully grown, and in that sense perfectly fits the paradigm of this conflict the way I see it. The Deep South traditionally has had a patrician cast to it, and it makes perfect sense that it would resent any “upstart” attempts at influence from a perceived youngster, even if she is a chip off the old block—in some ways, that actually makes it worse. The Deep South rarely responds well to being told what to do, and Yankeedom has its own innate pride in its intellectual attainments and accomplishments. Nevertheless, there will always be goals these regions share, points of common interest, since they are part of the same country. Finding the place where their interests meet most closely seems like the place to start. Of course, that is easier said than done.

Agree to Disagree

Is it good to "be consistent"? As far as ideology goes, maybe not. Being able to see things from another point of view may come in handy sometimes.

I'm thinking about this not only because of some research I came across but, more importantly, because of what I read in the news every day. A recent Pew Research Center study confirmed something that doesn't come as a shock to most of us: political polarization is a reality in the United States.

Many sociologists and political scientists have examined divisions among Americans in recent years--whether under the name of polarization, fragmentation, or culture war--and they have come to varying conclusions. Some of these researchers have found evidence for fragmentation along political, economic, or religious lines; others have concluded that the perception of a deeply divided country is greater than the reality. The findings often seem to depend on the way polarization is defined and measured.

The Pew study examined political affiliations and opinions on an array of questions. Essentially, the study found that significant numbers of Americans are now consistently liberal or consistently conservative in their views, that these consistent viewpoints align closely with Democratic or Republican party affiliation, and that members of both parties are increasingly likely to view the opposite party with deep disapproval. In fact, according to the study, 27 percent of Democrats and 36 percent of Republicans view the other party's policies as "so misguided that they threaten the nation's well-being." Ideological division has grown significantly over the last twenty years. (See "Political Polarization in the American Public," Pew Research Center for the People & the Press.)

In addition, Congress is more divided than it has been "since the end of Reconstruction," according to data compiled by political scientists Keith Poole and Howard Rosenthal. Analyzing roll call votes of senators and representatives, the researchers found that the ideological overlap formerly commonplace between Republicans and Democrats (as recently as the early 1970s) has evaporated. (See Drew DeSilver's article, "The Polarized Congress of Today Has Its Roots in the 1970s" on the Pew Research Center's website.)

While it's true that the public is more divided than it used to be, the majority of Americans, according to the Pew study, have mixed ideological views, still believe in compromise, and would like to see their politicians meet each other halfway to get things done. This is sometimes not apparent because the majority group tends to be less mobilized and vocal than those who are more polarized.

Jung's comment on ideologies, which he viewed as a "blight," comes to mind here. Could it be that the belief that we're in the right because of the reasonableness of our views and that others are all wrong because they refuse to agree is the biggest mistake we're making?

I used to wish myself away to a more liberal geographic location, where I might find more people who thought the way I did, but I think of it differently these days. I now believe that being surrounded by a variety of political views, including some that are very different from mine, has been a blessing in disguise. It's just harder to vilify people with opposing viewpoints when they're valued coworkers, friends, and acquaintances. When you like someone and understand their aspirations, joys, sorrows, and beliefs because their lives intersect with yours, it's easier to see where they're coming from. It seems likely in such a case that you'll discover the things you do agree on more easily.

Some people believe that harmony results from bringing people with a lot in common together, and that may be true. It's also possible that lack of friction is not always the highest goal. After doing some research on the Myers-Briggs test, I once concluded that having people with various personality types in a workplace is preferable to having a lot of people of a single type because including various perspectives makes the group smarter and more creative. It can be uncomfortable to live with differences, but in the long run, it may result in unexpected insights and new approaches to problems. That's if there's no unspoken belief that one way is inherently better.

Passionate partisanship is nothing new and certainly has precedent in the early years of our country. The Federalists and Anti-Federalists come to mind; the debate over the importance of a strong central government, states' rights, and civil liberties had strong, intelligent advocates on both sides. In the end, both sides got some of what they wanted, and most of us would agree that the addition of the Bill of Rights championed by the Anti-Federalists was a vitally important amendment to the Constitution. Our system of government was greatly improved by a disagreement that was eventually resolved by compromise.

Why aren't we doing the same thing now?