Snickerdoodle and secession in eastern Oregon

A SPORTING GOODS store off a dusty two-lane road, flanked by cow pastures and sagebrush, is an unlikely site for political revolution. But Michael McCarter, a retired nurseryman, has gathered a small group for such an occasion in Burns, the seat of Harney County nestled in the high desert of eastern Oregon. Between bites of snickerdoodle cookies, they patiently explain their cause to passers-by, careful not to tip over the shop’s hunting rifles in their enthusiasm. “Salem won’t listen to us,” says Mr McCarter, referring to Oregon’s state capital. He is here to champion the absorption of eastern and southern Oregon into Idaho, a movement they dub “Greater Idaho.” Of the 22 counties the group is targeting, seven have already voted to consider such a move. Harney County faces a similar vote on November 2nd.

America is no stranger to quixotic political projects, and “Greater Idaho” has hitched its wagon to the widening urban-rural divide. Usually, it is liberal cities that strain against the diktats of Republican-controlled states ruled from the hinterland. In Oregon, as in Illinois, New York, and others, it is the cities that dominate, and have only become more Democratic. With growing differences on policy, Mr McCarter’s group wonders whether they would be better off next door. The effort is a long shot, and unlikely to succeed. But it is another marker of Americans’ reluctance to compromise and live together.

This is another in a long line of attempts to redraw state boundaries, including in Oregon itself. The “State of Jefferson” has long been an aspiration in southern Oregon and northern California. Upstate New York, southern Illinois, and many other areas have seen attempts to form new states from the old. Just three have succeeded: Kentucky (in 1792), Maine (in 1819) and West Virginia (in 1863). No border change on the scale of “Greater Idaho” has happened before. The bar for victory is high, requiring the assent of both the Oregon and Idaho legislatures, as well as an act of Congress. Norman Williams of Willamette University points out that with political interests and thorny legal issues, such as the division of responsibility for pensions, the practical obstacles are daunting.

North-western Oregon dominates the state, with over 70% of the population and 80% of GDP clustered in less than a fifth of the state’s landmass along the Willamette valley between Portland and Eugene. Divisions between urban and rural Oregon are not new, says Mr Williams. But there is little doubt that the split has become more acute. In the 2000 presidential election, Al Gore bested George W. Bush by just 0.44% while Republicans held majorities in the state legislature. In 2020 Joe Biden won Oregon by 16 points, and the reliably liberal Willamette valley handed state Democrats another legislative supermajority.

Oregon Democrats have not shied away from wielding their power on issues close to liberals’ hearts, such as policing and education. And with Oregon set to gain another congressional seat after the 2020 census, state Democrats have reneged on a deal with Republicans and are preparing a 5-1 map gerrymandered in their favour.

“Greater Idaho” partisans say they suffer real consequences. “The rules are made for Portland, but they hurt us,” says Sandie Gilson, the movement’s captain for Grant County. A proposal to ban diesel, an environmental policy floated without considering the needs of agricultural equipment, was a frequent topic of conversation. Inevitably, the discussion circled back to guns, as a last defence against urban lawlessness. Asked when they first began to feel ignored by state Democrats, Ms Gilson is unequivocal: “Obama,” she says. “These days, you’re just called a racist.”

Despite leading an idealistic political movement, Mr McCarter insists he is a pragmatist. “The fact is, the divisions between us are too much, so this is a good idea for both.” Thus far, his group’s efforts have been met with silence from Salem. Mr McCarter is clear that the county votes he has won count for only so much. He hopes they will lead to talks with state legislators by the spring. “It sends a message: you’ve got a problem.”■