Should we Let Appalachia Go?

What Does That Even Mean?

I’ve seen a rhetorical meme circulate twice now that’s worth looking at. The first time I saw it was a question raised in a Roanoke, VA paper that cited me heavily. They ask whether we should just let Appalachia go.

But there are some who go further than asking into advocating, even if satirically. Steven Strauss, a professor at Princeton’s public affairs school, says that it’s “Time for Donald Trump to close, sell or restructure Kentucky.” Now, he of course is being a bit satirical, but the piece actually should be taken very seriously. It is commonplace to hear blue states resent the transfers to red states because “they” don’t vote in their own interest. Apparently, the expectation is that if Blue States give money to Red States, it means Red States are supposed to vote the way Blue States tell them to.

That sounds blunt because I mean it to be blunt, because that’s actually the argument underlying this political viewpoint. If we give you money, you ought to vote for the gravy-train to continue. It’s in your interest. It’s what you should do. You definitely should not vote to cut off the money we’re giving you.

Strauss’ point is not subtle. He compares poor states to drug addicts explicitly, and then suggests that GOP Senators from those states are the pushers of said drugs. Which is weird, because if Federal money is the drug, then it seems like the pusher would actually be… oh, Blue States.

Now, my point here is not just rhetorical criticism. It’s to briefly look at this question of whether we should just let Appalachia, and Kentucky, go.

What Does Winning Look Like?

All too often I see people advocate for policies without having a clear view of the desired end-state. I think there’s some of this in U.S. welfare policy. The War on Poverty was well-intentioned and did lower many forms of poverty, but I don’t think it actually had a clear end-state in mind. Was the poverty rate really going to reach zero? Really? Was Appalachia really going to become a booming economic zone? Really?

Of course not. But nobody likes to say the goal is to lower poverty by 3 percentage points. That’s not sexy. We’re not fighting poverty within a certain range, we want to fight Poverty Itself.

A similar problem afflicts this question of whether we should just let Appalachia “go,” as the Roanoke editorial asked. What does that even mean? What would it mean to let Appalachia go?

Most obviously, it means some kind of policy quarantine. Maybe we just announce that people living within the ARC zone are no longer eligible for means-tested benefits! That would empty out Appalachia in no time at all. Huge swathes of land would return to wilderness, and the remaining population would have extremely low poverty and high incomes. Fix’d!

Of course, counties just over the border would be inundated with benefit-seekers. Such huge flows would be unlikely to rapidly transform into upwardly-mobile economic migration. An actual internal refugee crisis is easily imaginable if the millions of Appalachians receiving means-tested benefits moved out after sudden withdrawal of aid.

Plus, given opportunities to do this, nobody takes the option. What I mean is, if Blue States want to close up shop on Kentucky, just support GOP efforts to weaken welfare programs. It’s that simple. In some sense, Republicans are already taking the shop-closing route, and yet Democrats whose Op-Eds suggest they’re deeply resentful of the funding of these Red State programs… keep arguing for their maintenance!

So if closing up shop on Appalachia doesn’t mean cutting benefits programs, what does it mean? Does Appalachia benefit from uniquely high government activities? Well, personal income from Federal civilian employment is about $650 per person in Appalachia, vs. about $1,000 per person in the rest of the U.S., so, no. Income from Federal military employment is about $110 per capita in Appalachia, vs. $430 nationally. Even at the state government level, Appalachia gets just $940 per person, vs $1,130 nationally. As a percent of income, those two values are about equivalent, so there’s a fair argument to be made that state government employment doesn’t terribly disfavor Appalachia; but Federal operational spending does.

So nobody seriously wants to quarantine Appalachia. The folks who complain about Red State voting against their own interests refuse to cut off the “drugs” the Red States want to cut off. And poor areas like Appalachia are already receiving less direct Federal activity than the nation on the whole.

In some sense, we’re already cutting off Appalachia. Many states charge severance taxes on minerals extracted from Appalachia, be it coal or gas. Those severance taxes are never fully reinvested in mining-impacted areas. Very few states locate their major universities within Appalachia. The only state with a truly Appalachian state capital is West Virginia because, well, of course West Virginia’s capital is in Appalachia.

Talk of “closing up Kentucky” or “letting Appalachia go” carries with it a presumption that we’re doing something in Appalachia. But, um, we’re really not doing that much there besides generally-applicable social welfare programs.

The flagship economic development agency for the region, the Appalachian Regional Commission, had a $146 million budget in 2016. That is 0.015% of Appalachian total personal incomes. Oh and, here’s the rich part: the Appalachian Regional Commission is headquartered in Washington, DC. Yes, they have state and local partners, and yes there are some logistical reasons to be in DC… but if you actually think ARC is some huge pork organization shoveling gazillions of dollars into Appalachia, well, you’re wrong. It’s a small investment program run out of DC on Appalachia’s behalf. If you want an agency that is a gold-plated case study in why we need to relocate Federal agencies, look no further than ARC. Move them to Beckley, WV. Or Pikeville. Or Charleston. Or literally anywhere in Appalachia.

So, I reiterate, what does it mean to close up shop in Appalachia, to let it go?

As I see it, there are two possible meanings.

Deny Appalachians Their Voices

The preferred solution for Strauss, as for many speaking on behalf of the coastal megalopolis, is just to strip Appalachians of political voice. I’m not joking here. It’s easy to find people who complain about these states and see redrawing state lines as a solution to the problem that the bumpkins keep messing up their policy preferences. Redraw state lines and you don’t have to let Appalachians have so much of a say anymore! Problem solved!

Read that one again and notice the standard Strauss is holding. He’s not using the “run the government like a business” metaphor in its usual sense, i.e. avoid enduring deficits. He’s using it in the “how much money you have determines your political rights” sense. In this system, people from poor states like McConnell know to shut up and be extra polite when talking to the gentry of esteemed Massachusetts.

Isn’t this what’s being suggested? Am I misreading? And I know that there’s an element of satire here, but I do think it’s mostly serious. The argument here is that because Kentucky is poor and Massachusetts is rich, McConnell should be extra polite to Warren. And, look, I’m all in favor of being polite. Politeness is swell. But you don’t show manners because somebody is rich you show manners because somebody is a human being, endowed with certain inalienable rights, to whom you owe the full honors and dignity of someone fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God. That’s why you should be polite to people, because they bear the mark of the divine and we ought not defile the sacred. You don’t show manners because somebody is rich.

To be clear, I regard this proposal as a terrible thing. If “letting Appalachia go” means treating Appalachians like second-class citizens and their representatives as subordinates of rich states, then this proposal is deeply wrong and un-American.

Make Peace With Decline

But there’s another reading. The Roanoke paper followed up their discussion of my work with another editorial, about what it would take to offset demographic decline. They properly note that it would take an unbelievably big baby boom, or a wave of immigration, and neither is likely.

One of the enduring public policy myths that I see in regions experiencing decline is that if they just get this or that thing, good times will set in and they’ll grow. I wish to God that it were so. But it just ain’t so. Demographic decline is very hard to reverse, and it’s getting harder as national growth rates fall.

If what we mean by “letting Appalachia go” is finding a way to make peace with a long period of population decline, then I’m inclined to think we should indeed let Appalachia go. We should give up the fantasy that a boom is just around the corner. With hard work and sound investments, some areas may experience meaningful turnarounds, but major regional turnaround is not likely. Planning for the region should incorporate this kind of pessimistic assumption.

But to be clear, “Appalachia will continue to decline” doesn’t mean we cut off funds or something. Even declining regions still have meaningful populations who deserve access to normal services and benefits, and deserve equal social and political standing. What it means is that we retarget investments from “revitalize the whole region in one big swoop” to “make this town more livable,” “make this school more competitive,” “make this hospital higher quality.” We focus on identifying the places that may succeed amidst decline and try to build them up, while caring for the needs of struggling places, in the hope that Appalachia of the 22nd century can bear as little resemblance as possible to the poverty and isolation that has characterized it for the last 2 centuries.

Check out my Podcast about the history of American migration.

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I’m a native of Wilmore, Kentucky, a graduate of Transylvania University, and also the George Washington University’s Elliott School. My real job is as an economist at USDA’s Foreign Agricultural Service, where I analyze and forecast cotton market conditions. I’m married to a kickass Kentucky woman named Ruth.

My posts are not endorsed by and do not in any way represent the opinions of the United States government or any branch, department, agency, or division of it. My writing represents exclusively my own opinions. I did not receive any financial support or remuneration from any party for this research.