Katrina vanden Heuvel writes in an essay for the Washington Post a few days ago (published simultaneously in the Nation magazine, for which vanden Heuvel is the editor and publisher) about Chloe Maxmin, a Maine state legislator who grew up in rural, impoverished Lincoln County, in the state's mid-coast region. (Prior posts mentioning Wiscasset, the county seat of Lincoln County, are here).
Maxmin and her campaign manager, Canyon Woodward, have a book coming out in a few months on the topic. Here's an excerpt from vanden Heuvel's essay, inspired by Maxmin's work and ideas:
First, to reach someone, you have to reach out. Rural Democrats consistently lament that the national party hasn’t invested enough money or time in rural organizing. By contrast, during her 2020 campaign, Maxmin says she had 90,000 voter contacts, the most of any state Senate campaign in the state. Her closest opponent had just 35,000. As a result, she connected with persuadable Trump voters who had never spoken with a Democratic candidate.
And Maxmin didn’t just talk to voters; she sought to understand them. As she told me during an interview last year, her canvassing strategy was “to stand there for 10 or 15 minutes and have a conversation — and then go back and follow up.” The progressive advocacy group People’s Action calls this approach “deep canvassing,” and found that it helped decrease Trump’s margins where implemented in key battleground states.
But once you’ve started a conversation with voters, how do you connect your policies to their problems?Many Democrats respond to any reflexive rural repulsion against “progressivism” by disavowing it and running toward the center. (Just ask any average Joe, be they Lieberman, Manchin or Biden.) But Maxmin has a different strategy. She makes progressive ideals concrete, real and relevant to people’s lives — so conversations can move past talking points and cut straight to what these changes could actually mean.
I was struck, too, by this very poignant vignette, which had me thinking about how folks along the political spectrum judge those they deem "white trash." (Bear in mind that Maine has one of the oldest and whitest populations in the nation).
Maxmin and Woodward describe an encounter when Maxmin, canvassing alone, walked down a dirt road leading to a nondescript trailer. She knocked on the door, which cracked open to reveal a man who appeared hesitant to hear from her. Nevertheless, she introduced herself and asked him about the issues he cared about most in the coming election. They chatted for a bit, and then he said something she may not have expected to hear: “You’re the first person to listen to me. Everyone judges what my house looks like. They don’t bother to knock. I’m grateful that you came. I’m going to vote for you.”
I was reminded of the article about Maxmin when this came across my Twitter feed today, from a young Minnesotan associated with the Rural Rising Project:
Like Maxmin, this organizer is endorsing listening as a critical part of the process, something urban and coastal elites--so assured they know everything, have all the answers--are often not very good at.
Cross-posted to Working-Class Whites and the Law.
Postscript: About the Rural Ground Game organization, in Daily Kos, on January 17, 2022:
What Rural GroundGame offers is a pathway to Democratic success everywhere. At Rural GroundGame, our mission is to develop and execute programs for the support, training, and development of rural Democrats. Programs that are created for candidates, campaigns, and committees to secure a deeper level of investment in and by Democrats in every zip code. This work is focused on getting Democrats elected, improving electoral margins, holding Republicans accountable for their public records, and upholding our shared values.
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