Progressive Prosperity

An affluent neighborhood in Savannah, Georgia.

We decided to spend our summer vacation this year someplace we don’t normal visit as residents of California. Still smarting from our mostly nonrefundable vacation that was scuttled by COVID last summer, we opted for a destination we thought had a lower likelihood of getting shutdown if cases picked up again: Florida and Georgia.

We also wanted our California-born kids to experience a different part of the country—particularly the political conservatism we expected in the Southeast. Our political rhetoric and media coverage focuses so much on dividing us into “Blue states” and “Red states” that we practically expected to see a Trump rally when we landed at the airport.

The reality, of course, as any resident can tell you, is their populations are far from homogeneous in their political views, particularly in so-called “Purple states” like Florida and Georgia. In fact, the key fault line of American politics is not Red states vs Blue states, even though our outdated electoral process mandates we color the US map that way every election. The real dichotomy, which you see every time Steve Kornacki zooms in to a county-level view on the big board, is between urban and rural.

Thanks to college visits and soccer tournaments, in the last year we’ve traveled to Washington, Colorado, Ohio, Utah, Montana, and Texas, and this urban/rural divide was largely the same everywhere. The business climate, culture, demographics, and political views of urban areas were largely progressive and affluent. Almost any restaurant, retailer, or cafe we visited—whether it was in Savannah or San Antonio, Missoula or Miami—could have just as easily been in deep Blue San Francisco.

The story is completely different in rural areas. The culture shock we anticipated finally hit us when we elected to drive the four-hour journey from the Georgia coast to Atlanta via rural roads rather than the Interstate. The communities between the islands of urban prosperity are case studies in economic devastation. Entire villages are essentially ghost towns. Every storefront is vacant for blocks—windows shattered, roofs collapsed. Houses lie abandoned, taken over by forest. Town after town was like this—the only signs of economic life a Dollar General store, a Waffle House restaurant, or a Wal-Mart; the only sense of community the ubiquitous Baptist churches.

A vacant block of storefronts in downtown Uvalda, Georgia. Photo credit: Google.

It’s no secret why rural communities have suffered so much. As the levers of wealth and job creation shifted over the last 100+ years from land-intensive industries, like agriculture, manufacturing, and natural resources, to land-independent industries, like finance, healthcare, and technology, the abundance of land in rural areas has become a liability. While some rural communities, blessed with coasts, mountains, or other attractions, were able to pivot to industries like tourism, retail, and real estate, many have nothing to buoy their local economies.

It is self-evident when you travel through a town like Uvalda, Georgia why the people who remain there are so mad. Why the message to “make America great again” has such powerful resonance. The world has left them behind. There are no jobs, no businesses, no prosperity. America's transportation network of airlines and Interstates has left them off the grid. Their populations, particularly their youth, have moved away, seeking opportunity in the cities and coasts.

Yet, there is also a sense of fatalism in these communities. It’s impossible not to wonder, why would anybody stay here? Certainly poverty, family obligations, and a lack of education are factors, but so too must be more intangible traits, or lack thereof—determination, ambition, risk tolerance. Those who remain seem trapped in a catch-22 of conservative ideals—lacking the means to “pull themselves up,” yet too prideful to take help from others, particularly “big government.”

And perhaps the inverse of that dynamic is precisely why the urban areas of America have become increasingly affluent. It is impossible to ignore the evident correlation between economic prosperity and progressive values. Despite the urban challenges of joblessness, crime, and homelessness, America’s cities are thriving compared to their rural counterparts—and increasingly the engine of our nation’s economic growth. Our civic centers are populated with people willing to take risks, accept others, learn new skills, invest in their community. They are empathetic, not embittered. Supportive, not cynical. Determined, not discouraged. Rather than regress to a glorified past, they look forward optimistically to the future.

In short, they are Progressives. They have self-selected to pursue new opportunities, found new businesses, create new industries. They have opted in to a mindset of growth and opportunity—to unlock their human potential, to be the change they want. And it is those progressive values and ideals that seem to be the most powerful path to economic prosperity that we have.