Localists in Winter, Bureaucrats in Summer: Can Weather Swing the Vote?

Yesterday, on the way to visit an old friend, I faced down vast stretches of glacial ice. The snow had compacted, melted slightly in the sun, and then re-frozen into sheets. I wasn’t driving, because driving is such a waste of time. I was walking through the streets of St. Paul. And I realized: in winter, everyone becomes a localist.

Localism, so far as I can tell, is the habit of taking responsibility for your corner of the world. The world may spin on without you, but the local pancake feed will not. The opposite of this is bureaucracy, or the belief that some central power will alleviate any problem. So far as they go, localism tends to be favored by conservatives, bureaucracy tends to be favored by liberals. It’s not that conservatives and liberals have entirely different goals; rather the disagreement lies in how to achieve common ends. Many, including myself, who opposed the health care law, had no quibble with the major premise that every person should receive health care; it’s just that we would prefer individual doctors or small co-ops in each city or state provide, rather than a mega-plan implemented from Washington.

Now, as I said, in winter, everyone becomes a localist and realizes the common sense of this approach. The city may plow the roads, but it falls to each person to shovel their  own sidewalk. A neighbor’s laziness may be your downfall. One stretch un-shoveled can ruin a perfectly fine walk.

During the other season in Minnesota (known as road construction), everyone becomes more favorable toward bureaucrats. The roads are built by unseen forces. No neighborhood organization ever takes up a collection to fill the potholes because it’s the city’s the responsibility. Central power sounds great when you can watch the new freeway being erected without heaving the beams yourself.

This all led me to a shuddering thought which won’t go away: that the timing of our elections may affect their outcomes. In November, Minnesota roads shine like shiny new toys. Lanes reopen with smooth riding concrete and clean, polished street lights shine on every corner. Bureaucracy has its heyday. Come the first snowfall, bureaucracy is back on the bad list, and a man has to rely on himself and his neighbors to clear away the snow. Were the elections to happen in, say March, when everyone was used to habitually cleaning up their corner, the party which occasionally champions personal responsibility might carry the day.