Escolar Documentos
Profissional Documentos
Cultura Documentos
Ronald D Eller
Distinguished Professor of History, Emeritus
University of Kentucky
I am always amazed by our inability to learn from history. Despite half a century of
scholarship on Appalachia, we still rely on the same old stereotypes and policies that motivated
previous behavior toward the region. Despite a history that runs deep in the American
mainstream, we tend to isolate the region only to rediscover this enigmatic place during periods
Not since the 1960s has Appalachia drawn so much attention from the national media as
in the last few months. When the majority of mountain voters last year turned out for Donald
Trump, Appalachia was rediscovered as an icon of our current political climate, Shortly after the
election, the New York Times labeled central Appalachia "Trump Country", a place according to
The New Yorker magazine dominated by "ignorant, racist (whites), appalled by the idea of a
female President or a black President, suspicious and frightened of immigrants and Muslims,
with a threatened job or no job at all, addicted to OxyContin." Since then a gaggle of reporters
has descended on the region to describe this unfortunate place and to cast Appalachia again as a
metaphor for the "other America." On one weekend alone last June, major segments about
Pundits on both the left and the right have used Appalachia as a Rosetta Stone to explain
the Trump phenomenon, despite the fact that Trump was elected primarily by sub-urban voters,
not rural voters nationally, and none of the central Appalachian states played a major role in
determining the outcome of the election. In fact, exit polls indicate that Trump support
1
throughout the country included every white demographic including age, class, gender, and
education, leading journalist Ta-Nehisi Coates to call Trump "The First White President."
Some frustrated liberal commentators have been especially quick to resurrect tired
stereotypes to explain why voters in West Virginia, East Kentucky and other areas of the coal
fields abandoned their long ties to the Democrats and voted Republican in apparent opposition
to their own material self-interests. Falling back on images of racism, religion, guns, ignorance,
and anti-intellectualism a few initial responses to Trump's victory reinforced the myth of
Appalachia as a backward "taker" region whose residents simply deserved what they would get
from the new Trump administration. "These voters made their choice," wrote Frank Rich in New
York Magazine, "and now they must live with -- and deserve to suffer under - the havoc Trump
wreaks." Writing in the New Republic, Kevin Baker concurred, "The people of Trump Country,
like so much of white America, long for a past that never was, and a future that cannot be. A
past cleansed of conflict, where a big, paternalistic company gave them nice things if they
worked hard." Trump country, concluded Baker, has allowed "itself to be reduced" to its current
deplorable condition.
Such open condescension toward Appalachia was expressed recently when the liberal
website The Daily Kos opened a conversation on whether liberals should care about rural
America. As reported by the Roanoke Times, a number of respondents rejected any special
government assistance to poor rural areas that had voted for Trump. As one commenter put it,
I am not in a generous mood to help such folks. . . . It's about pouring billions of
blue state dollars into red areas as a reward for red voters voting for a liar, a bigot,
a buffoon, and an ignoramus all rolled into one. . . . If they were just
conservative, I'd have no problem spending money on them. But they aren't just
conservative. They are ignorant and racist and proud to be both. That's the
problem I have. We have lots of other things to spend money on. Spending
2
money on the deplorables as a reward for being deplorable isn't high on my
priority list.
Conservative pundits on the other hand, have seen Trump's election as a victory for
libertarian values and evidence of the failure of welfare state programs. Liberal policies, they
argue, have created "white ghettoes" of dependency where economic despair contributes to a
culture of resignation, drug addiction and anti-social behavior. For many conservatives the
current guidebook for the Trump revolution in Appalachia is the bestselling volume by Ohio's
J.D. Vance, Hillbilly Elegy. More about Vance later, but suffice it to say that Vance's book
promotes most of the same stereotypes of mountain people found in American literature since
before the turn of the twentieth century. He holds out little hope for hillbilly culture and finds
that the only path out of poverty is individual initiative and hard work.
The resurgence of old stereotypes about Appalachia, of course, like many of our current
reality television programs, is superficial, and it ignores the real sources of persistent poverty
and human suffering in the mountains. The problems that plague central Appalachia are well
known: the decline of coal mining jobs due largely to changing markets; the absence of
employment alternatives; the rise of opiate addiction; higher rates of depression, heart disease,
and cancer; growing dependence upon Medicaid and SSI; and insufficient tax revenues for
education and other local services. Such challenges continue to set Appalachia apart as one of
the most distressed places in America more than five decades after Lyndon Johnson declared his
War on Poverty. Ironically, despite the fact that two out of three voters in central Appalachia
cast their ballots for Trump last November, the President's proposed federal budget eliminates
funding for many support programs in the region including the Appalachian Regional
Commission, and his administration has already reduced several Obama era protections for the
environment and miner safety and suspended funding for scientific research on the effects of
3
surface mining on community health. As one regional editor put it, "It is safe to say that the
In spite of the revival of public interest in Appalachia, the national response to economic
and social conditions in the mountains has changed little for over a century. Defined as "other"
in the late nineteenth century -- the antithesis of modern, progressive America -- Appalachia has
been discovered and rediscovered so many times that the word itself has become synonymous
Appalachia has been used by both the left and the right as a proxy for political debate about the
nation's future, as well as a scapegoat for avoiding discussion of real issues such as systemic
racism and economic inequality. Thus Appalachia became the home of "our contemporary
ancestors" at the turn of the twentieth century when white America felt threatened by African
American equality and immigration, and it became an "island of underdevelopment" for a Cold
Indeed, as I argued in my 2008 book Uneven Ground, this tendency to view Appalachia
as part of some "other America" limited our ability to recognize persistent economic and political
inequalities within the region and, by extension, within the American system itself.
Consequently, designers of the War on Poverty in the 1960s fell back upon cultural deficiency
theories and free market strategies in order to bring Appalachia into the emerging consumer
mainstream without addressing the region's long status as an internal resource colony.
agencies worked to increase services and change individual behavior among the poor rather than
4
struggle for community reorganization and economic equity. Economic development agencies
such as the ARC opted for expanding infrastructure, access to markets, and job creation through
investment by outside industries. Although local residents and poverty warriors frequently
traditional mountain elites maintained control of the anti-poverty programs, and resources for
development tended to flow toward middle-class growth centers rather than into poorer rural
communities. While the expansion of government transfer payments in the final decades of the
century improved the quality of life for the poorest residents, reducing poverty throughout the
entire region by half, and while the new ARC highways facilitated access to jobs and cheap
consumer goods, income, land distribution, and political power remained strikingly unequal.
After the War on Poverty Appalachia disappeared from the public stage, largely due to
rising national prosperity and expanding coal markets. During the Reagan years, the budget for
the ARC was reduced drastically (actually Reagan tried to abolish the agency) and responsibility
for other anti-poverty initiatives was shifted to the states. As the nation began its transition to a
post-industrial economy and entered the digital age, demand for electricity burgeoned, spurring
another boom in the coal fields and resulting in the disastrous mining practice of Mountain Top
Removal. Unable to compete with this cheaper, more environmentally destructive extractive
process, underground mines continued their long decline in Appalachia, and most of the small
manufacturing plants recruited with government incentives a decade earlier abandoned the
region for cheaper labor off shore. Although a few miners, engineers, and managers benefitted
from the new coal boom, unemployment and out-migration increased once again, especially
5
During the 1990s the Clinton administration attempted to refocus attention on the
problems of the region. After signing the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity
Reconciliation Act effectively eliminating "welfare as we know it," the Democratic President
returned to job training and private sector free market strategies to assist the poor. Clinton flew
into eastern Kentucky to raise public support for his New Markets initiative which would use
government funds to spur private investment in distressed areas. Although Clinton's larger New
Markets initiative failed to gain support in a Republican Congress, a pilot rural "empowerment
zone" project pumped $40 million into three southeastern Kentucky counties. As was the case
with previous market oriented efforts, most of the federal investment in the Appalachian EZ
went to infrastructure, "downtown improvement", job training and loans to industry. Just like
previous initiatives, the EZ program resulted in the attraction of some low-wage, predominantly
absentee companies but very little long term sustainable development. The empowerment zone
idea remerged in the Obama administration and provided the framework for Hilary Clinton's
strategy to help displaced Appalachian coal miners in her ill-fated 2016 campaign. (Neither
Appalachia's experience with neo-liberal development strategies over the past five
decades is mixed. On the one hand these government investments designed to spur private sector
corporate development in distressed places have generated some temporary growth and limited
employment opportunities, On the other hand, these strategies have produced what many
economists call "growth without development," relieving short term distress but failing to
address long term structural inequalities within the political and economic system that perpetuate
instability and poverty. After half a century of efforts to stimulate Appalachian development by
rewarding private investment in the mountains and dramatically increasing the social safety net,
6
we have eliminated the most egregious human suffering, but we have failed to provide economic
security, hope, and health for many in the region. The ground is still uneven in Appalachia.
Consequently current initiatives, as limited as they are, again promise opportunity for a
few and encourage short term recovery in select communities but neglect systemic change. The
SOAR initiative in Appalachian Kentucky, for example, has helped to spur some private
access to the development of casinos, greenhouses, wild life centers, and solar energy farms.
The ARC has set aside more than $75 million to help the region transition away from a coal
entrepreneurs, university research and health education. A bi-partisan task force lead by four
Senators from Appalachia recently issued a report calling for federal incentives to improve
education, entrepreneurial support, and workforce development in the region. The newly elected
Democrat (now turned Republican) Governor of West Virginia, coal and real estate magnate Jim
Justice, has proposed a $15 per ton federal subsidy for Appalachian coal to revive the faltering
industry, and even Libertarian Senator Rand Paul has proposed an act creating Economic
Freedom Zones in places such as Appalachia where industry would get relief from heavy "taxes,
Rampant, unregulated free-market capitalism ravaged the land and people of the
mountains at the turn of the twentieth century creating an internal economic colony that provided
natural resources for the modernization of the rest of country but left the working class residents
of Appalachia dependent and poor. Efforts to reduce regional poverty over the last five decades,
including those of the present, have relied primarily upon the same market expanding strategies
that fueled these inequalities in the first place. They provide a semblance of growth and
7
opportunities for a few, especially those well connected to outside sources of capital, but they do
not fundamentally alter the economic, political and institutional structures that have plagued the
The failure of these libertarian and neo-liberal strategies to bring hope and equality to
mountain communities fuels much of the antipathy toward government to be found within the
region today. The long "Friends of Coal" campaign financed heavily by the coal industry helped
to reinforce years of accusations by mountain elites that the problems of the region were not the
result of exploitation or local greed and corruption but the arrogance of "outsiders," especially
educated bureaucrats from the federal government. Encouraged by conservative media and
religious leaders who stirred racial and nationalist resentments and by the rowdy blustering
against the establishment by candidate Donald Trump, white working class voters in the
mountains threw their support to Trump out of emotion spurred by desperation and resentment.
Far from merely voting against their own interests, these voters may have been sending a
message to both the Democrat and Republican leadership that the policies of the past have failed
in Appalachia just as they have failed to stop the growing gap between the wealthy one percent
and the rest of us nationally. And they may have been sending one additional message: that they
are tired of the arrogance and condescension with which conservative and liberal elites have
These economic and emotional motivations do not excuse the racism expressed by many
white working class voters in Appalachia toward the Obama administration, nor do they fully
explain their willingness to vote for a nationalist and white supremacist candidate, but they do
shed light upon the depth of despair and the lack of hope that pervades the region. Racism is
systemic in white America, and it cuts across class and geographic boundaries, but it is often
8
difficult for working-class whites in Appalachia to recognize the benefits of "white privilege"
because of their marginalized place in the American economic and social system. Facing
persistent unemployment, powerlessness, and a bleak future and openly demeaned by elites as
"hillbillies," working class whites in Appalachia easily succumbed to baser emotions of anger,
Unfortunately many in the national media missed the frustration and despair behind the
2016 vote in the mountains. Instead, they revived the same old stereotypes and simple cultural
explanations of regional behavior that had motivated the designers of the War on Poverty. In the
1960s most elites considered poverty to be an aberration in the American experience, the product
of some deficiency among the poor themselves, i.e. a culture of poverty. The most popular
application of Oscar Lewis's culture of poverty theory for Appalachia was Jack Weller's personal
reflection Yesterday's People, published by the University Press of Kentucky in 1965. In our
current era of reality programming, of anecdotal evidence and of simplistic solutions, J.D.
Vance's memoir of growing up poor in a working-class world provided a similar timely retelling
of the Appalachian myth and a convenient explanation for the Trump rebellion as well.
Brilliantly marketed in a manner even Donald Trump could appreciate and pointedly
titled Hillbilly Elegy, the book quickly became a national best seller. USA Today declared the
memoir to be "one of the big break out hits of the 2016 election cycle," describing it as "the story
of Vance's hardscrabble childhood in Appalachia and later success at Yale Law School and
Silicon Valley." The book made it to number one in June of this year after Vance was profiled on
NBC's Sunday Night With Megan Kelly. Vance has been a frequent guest on cable talk shows
and news programs and was introduced by one CNN anchor as "the man who wrote the book on
9
Appalachia." Hillbilly Elegy has been adopted as required reading for freshmen this year at more
Of course Vance's memoir is not about Appalachia. Critics in the region have pointed
out that he is three generations removed from Appalachia and grew up in a multi-racial small
town community in Rust Belt central Ohio. His passionate narrative describes a difficult
violent but caring grandmother. Vance both romanticizes and criticizes his grandmother's home
community in eastern Kentucky, which he visited occasionally as a small child, but his is
primarily a rags to riches story. Raised in an environment of insecurity and neglect, his
childhood mirrors that of far too many other children living in poor black, native American,
Hispanic and working class white communities across the country. Despite these similarities,
Vance identifies the deviant behavior of his close knit family as part of his "hillbilly" heritage,
which he associates with a Scotch-Irish ancestry and his grandparent's roots in Appalachia. With
little knowledge of the history of the region, its diversity or complexity, he utilizes popular
stereotypes to assure his reader that poverty in America has less to do with government programs
or systemic inequalities than with behaviors derived from a deficient culture which can be
overcome through self-discipline and hard work. His is a political restatement of the Horatio
But whether Hillbilly Elegy is a book that describes Appalachia is not the point. By
focusing his story on a group of "working class whites with ties to Appalachia," Vance hopes to
demonstrate to his reader "how class and family affect the poor without filtering their views
through a racial prism." For Vance, culture not racism or economic inequality shapes the world
of the poor, and there is no policy, he says, and "no government that can fix these problems for
10
us." Appalachian scholars, however, have long observed that a "racial prism" was at the heart of
the creation of the idea of Appalachia at the turn of the twentieth century, and the region's
supposed "whiteness" has always been a factor in the way outside elites have related to the place.
As such, Appalachia has commonly been the exception to the rule that whiteness equals
prosperity, and if mountain whites failed to participate in that prosperity it was because of their
own weakness, their peculiar culture. This tendency to racialize Appalachia not only reinforces
cultural strategies for fighting poverty in the mountains, but it obscures economic and political
This may be the central issue of the Trump era in Appalachia: whether we will continue
to blame the people of the region for their own condition or whether we will acknowledge the
need for substantive structural reform nationally and within Appalachia. Elite commentators
who championed the popularity of Hillbilly Elegy missed the opportunity to reveal the
underlying systemic failures that drove working class whites in Appalachia and elsewhere to
vote for Donald Trump. Racism, economic inequality, elitism, greed, and a self-serving political
oligarchy fueled deep sentiments of distrust and resentment. If Appalachian residents are angry
Like Vance, I was raised by a working class white Appalachian family, although my
parents migrated to Ohio and back to West Virginia more than a decade before Vance's
grandparents left Breathitt County, Kentucky. While I did not experience the trauma of Vance's
childhood, we were part of the "hillbilly" community of working class whites and my playmates
and neighbors were the children of European immigrants and African-American migrants from
the deep South. My father, born in a coal camp, was a barber with a sixth grade education. I
was the first in my family to attend college, but unlike Vance, my intellectual journey led me to
11
ask different questions about my heritage. Why was I the first in my family to attend college?
Why did my father and grandfather before him need to leave their home communities in the
mountains to find work? Why did so many of my relatives suffer from black lung, diabetes and
other illnesses? And why were my people looked down upon by other Americans with such
I spent almost five decades teaching and writing about Appalachia and working with
political leaders and grassroots organizations in order to better connect public policy with the
lessons of the region's past. While Vance sets forth very few solutions to the problems of
poverty, I found in the history of Appalachia recurring patterns of injustice and inequality.
Above all I learned that Appalachia's problems were neither unique nor a product of some
strange and peculiar culture but were in fact deeply interconnected with the political and
economic life of the nation as a whole. The lessons of Appalachia's past speak to fundamental
inequalities within American society today which must be acknowledged if we are to build a
different future. To repeat the same policies and received assumptions will only produce the
Appalachia's troubled past, for example, suggests the need for deep and fundamental
policy change in at least five areas: 1.) Land Reform including the reduction of absentee land
ownership and the promotion of alternative land use, 2.) Political Reform and the renewal of
ethics in public life 3.) Reform of Primary Institutions, especially health care and education,
4.) Economic Reforms that broaden participation and ownership by encouraging local and
regional markets, and 5.) Values Reform that re-emphasizes collective responsibility, diversity,
and respect for each other and for the natural world. These are exactly the reforms that need to
occur nationally. Such revolutionary change may appear to be overwhelming, but examples of
12
these changes already exist within the region and across the globe. What is needed is the
political will and leadership to think collectively and to step beyond personal interest in pursuit
of the public good. Past policies toward Appalachia and many current initiatives, either blame
the victims or foster market solutions that grow the wealth of the few over that of the many.
Real and lasting change in Appalachia will require a more drastic transformation of our
assumptions about the region and about our American system as well.
The response of working class whites in the 2016 election should challenge the rest of us
to think more critically about how we define America and how we uphold the values that we
profess for the good society. In the era of Donald Trump the ground is still uneven in
Appalachia, and in the rest of the nation the American promise is still unfulfilled for millions of
working class people. We live in uncertain times, but that very uncertainty may provide a
moment of opportunity for change. Confronting the challenges facing Appalachia will force us to
reconsider our core values and institutions as Americans. In that regard we are all Appalachians.
13