By Kevin D. Williamson
Wednesday, November 12, 2025
Texas passed a big school-choice bill in April, but Texas
Republicans first had to fight for years against their proposal’s most
energetic and unmovable opponents: Texas
Republicans.
It wasn’t the Texas teachers’ unions that led the fight
against school choice in the state—their members do not much care for measures
that expose them to competition and accountability, but their members also are
prohibited from engaging in collective bargaining, or going on strike, or
forcing teachers to join unions, so they do not have the kind of clout they
have in, say, California. Also, the Democratic Party in Texas is kind of a
basket case, driven mad by a generation in the wilderness and embittered by the
recurrent mirages of such figures as Beto O’Rourke and Wendy Davis.
Rural Republicans have a lot more clout in Texas, though
that is mainly a matter of political engineering and inertia rather than
numbers: By rural population share, Texas is only
a little more rural than Maryland (17 percent vs. 14.7 percent) or
Washington state (16.6 percent) and a lot less rural than Virginia (24.9
percent) or Minnesota (28.9 percent), but there are a whole bunch of
long-serving, influential legislators out there representing largely rural districts.
The speaker of the Texas House serves a typical GOP district: He has a slice of
Lubbock County (including my former home) and the entirety of 10 other counties
that range in population from 631 to 16,932—the contemporary Republican model
of lots of real estate and not a lot of people. In many of those counties with
6,000 or 7,000 people (and in a fair number of larger ones, too), the largest
single employer is the public school district. And many of those rural
communities do not have many—or any—private schools to which to take those new
vouchers. If you are a rural cotton farmer married to a rural high-school
principal, you probably get your insurance (and your retirement plan, and much
else) from the school system. There is not much upside, for you and your
family, to school choice.
Republicans in the Texas speaker’s district may talk a
good fight when it comes to anti-government radicalism, but, as it turns out,
the biggest city in the district is largely dependent on government spending
(its economy is dominated by Texas Tech University) while the rural areas are
even more dependent on farm subsidies. Texas farmers are the nation’s largest
collective recipient of farm subsidies: Together with neighboring Kansas, Texas
farmers receive 27 percent of all federal agriculture subsidies. My part of
Texas is jam-packed with libertarians on welfare, attached to the public teat
in one way or another.
Rural-suburban-urban politics are, as it turns out, much
more complicated than many people assume. Republicans currently have a
commanding position among rural voters, especially in presidential elections,
but they do not have a monopoly: About
60 percent of rural voters pull the “R” lever, while more than a third go
“D.” Rural voters are typically more dependent on government programs of
various kinds—from farm subsidies to Medicare—than are the millionaire
suburban car dealers who effectively run the Republican Party. The best
jobs in many rural areas are government jobs: school administrators, municipal
officials, etc. Historically, these people were Democrats: I grew up not far
from the town of New Deal, Texas, and had a grandfather who would have made
Steve Bannon look like Zohran Mamdani, but he considered every Republican
walking the Earth his mortal enemy—going hungry in a farming community during
the Great Depression left a partisan mark on him.
The Democratic Party apparently has hired Captain Obvious
as a political consultant and has secured some good results for its side
by—here’s a big idea!—running more moderate
candidates in more moderate areas and running boutique radicals in New York
City. Just as Donald Trump made inroads with African American voters and
Hispanics by appealing to their interests and—another big idea!—actually
bothering to ask them for their votes (the subsequent
disappointment has been severe), relatively moderate Democrats such as
Virginia Gov.-elect Abigail Spanberger have improved on their party’s position
in farm country by campaigning there and talking about relevant local issues.
As Politico reports,
Spanberger improved on Kamala Harris’ performance in almost every rural county
in Virginia and—more relevant—ran 19 points ahead of Terry McAuliffe’s 2021
gubernatorial effort. That means that the Republican advantage in rural
Virginia was cut from 27 points to only 8 points. Republicans were not going to
make up those lost rural votes in the densely populated Washington suburbs of
northern Virginia, where Spanberger
won a commanding 72.3 percent of the vote. About 88 percent of Spanberger’s
vote total came from suburban NoVa—the Democrats are very much the party of
college-educated, affluent, young and young-ish professionals, especially
government-adjacent ones—but a relatively strong position in the rural areas
makes it pretty hard for Democrats to lose in a state such as Virginia.
Spanberger did not put on overalls and campaign as a hayseed—she talked about market
access, extension programs, and the state’s Agriculture and Forestry
Industries Development Fund.
Rural Americans do not love tariffs, government
shutdowns, or economic chaos—and 1 out of 4 Virginians lives in a rural area.
Consider which
states are similar in that way: Pennsylvania (23.6 percent rural), New
Mexico (24.7 percent), Georgia (26.6 percent), Michigan (27.1 percent)—states
that lately are in play in presidential elections and that most often go for
the winning presidential candidate (8 of 10 for Pennsylvania, 7 of 10 for New
Mexico, 7 of 10 for Georgia, 8 of 10 for Michigan, and a modest 6 of 10 for
Virginia). As Barry Goldwater once put it in a less happy context: You want to
hunt where the ducks are.
Democrats disappointed by their senators’ postelection
compromise over the government shutdown insist that their party must be more
radical, more confrontational, more Trumpy, more trollish, “ruthlessly
pragmatic,” as Yasmin Radjy of progressive voter-turnout group Swing Left told the Washington
Post. But there is some question-begging in the formulation
“ruthlessly pragmatic.” Running angrier, more extreme campaigns, pushing ruthless
procedural and legalistic maximalism limited only by the principle “that it is
within the laws and constitutions of the state,” as Maryland Senate President
Bill Ferguson puts it in the same report, might be a winning strategy—in
Tribeca and Brooklyn, in Chicago, in Austin and San Antonio. But the Democrats
already have those voters pretty well locked up: Democrats have been winning
Austin and its county (Travis) by
an average of 42 points for years. But Trump won big in some heavily
Hispanic rural counties.
Rural voters may be disproportionately dependent on
certain kinds of government services, and their families often depend on income
and benefits associated with government employment, but they are not left-wing
radicals either as a matter of policy preference or as a matter of temperament.
Trump won Texas with only 52 percent in 2020, a showing slightly inferior to
his 2016 performance in the state. Trump won Texas with a better showing in
2024 (56 percent), but not because the left-wing crazies in Austin were too
stoned to make it to the polls: He increased his share in part because he
improved on Republicans’ rural advantage, extending it into such largely
Hispanic rural counties as Maverick and Starr. Trump did not run in those
counties as a socialist talking about income redistribution and
intersectionality: He ran as a guy bitching about high prices at the grocery
store.
Rural America listened.
And Trump, being Trump, has repaid rural America for its
support by screwing over America’s farmers with his imbecilic anti-trade
policies and an undisciplined fiscal attitude that has helped to keep inflation
abnormally high and, hence, interest rates higher than many had hoped or
expected. There are votes there in the countryside to be had by those willing
to fight for them—they probably should not send the incoming mayor of New York
City to do the asking, but one would think that would be obvious enough even
for Democrats.
It may very well be the case that ruthlessness is not, in fact, pragmatic—that ruthlessness contributes to polarization and to us-vs.-them tribalism that serves Democrats pretty well in places they are going to win, anyway, but costs them in places where they might find new allies. And if Democrats cannot find new allies while the Republican Party is operating as a full-time personality cult in the service of a retired game-show host and quondam pornographer who already has tried to stage one coup d’état and may very well try again—then even Captain Obvious won’t be able to save them.
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