You are viewing this site with a web browser which does not support web standards.
I have never been to Colorado.
Itís possible Iíve flown over it, because Iíve been to the west coast several times. But: (a) I donít know, and never will; and (b) thereís a difference between going to and going through a place anyway.
In addition to never having been to Colorado, I frankly donít know much about it. I know they have four sports teams and a city that bills itself as being a mile high. I know that city is supposed to have great brewpubs. Iím vaguely aware that it snows in the area, and I know that South Park takes place there. I always assumed the whole state was purple, because the Rockies wore purple, but I always assumed Tennessee was orange because the University-of wore orange, and then I went there last fall and found Tennessee was green.
So I donít know what color it is in Colorado, and I donít know what it feels like to be a Coloradoan. I donít even know if Coloradoan is a word. I assume that it is; my spellcheck approves it. I donít know their capital, their state bird, their state slogan, or what counts for slang in Colorado. Is it safe to assume their people like bacon? I assume that it is. But again, I donít know this.
Of all the things I donít know about Colorado, I especially donít know a thing about their politics. I could do what everyone does when they want to join an argument on Facebook, and just spend the next ten minutes reading about the subject, then coming back and presenting myself like Iíve always been an expert. But I donít see the point in doing this. Not knowing a thing about Coloradoís political landscape, and admitting I donít know a thing about that landscape, lends itself to the point Iím about to make.
The other day, I happened across two words on the internet. Those two words were ďColorado secession.Ē Not the most telling two words in the world, but I knew from the moment I saw them that whatever they referred to, I was about to support it.
Clicking those words and reading on, I learned that several counties in the stateís northeastern portion want to break off from the state they call home and form a new state called North Colorado. The plan calls for taking a few Nebraska and Kansas counties with them. They feel unrepresented by their state governments, and this isnít idle talk: Legislators are actually working on it. I was right about my original hunch, because I support the effort completely. I know almost nothing about it, other than what Iíve read in that original article and a few others like it, but I know if there are Americans who wish to break off from some government or another—local, state, federal, or otherwise—they have my full, complete, and unrestrained backing.
Itís become fashionable in recent years, especially here in the northeast, to consider secession something nutty southerners do or talk about. A few months ago, a small movement was afoot in Texas to secede from the U.S. after Obama was reelected. I supported that movement, no matter how futile or fake it was, and no matter how much pretty much everyone I knew made fun of it. I also supported a counter-movement by the city of Austin to secede from Texas if Texas seceded. Why? Because I support secession. Any and every form of it. I donít think itís something only nutty southerners do it all. I think secession is distinctly American. It may be the most American thing you can do.
Americaís long and storied history of secession began with our founding moment. We were colonies of England, and we seceded from them. We determined that our government didnít represent us, and we chose to break off and represent ourselves. During the 1800s, movements sprang up in support of secession over the issue of slavery—not just by the South, but by people in the North. Yes, at one point, nutty northerners wished to secede. Several of our states were formed by secession, including Texas, Maine, and West Virginia. We havenít seen secession in a long time around here, because the last hundred-plus years have been so focused on maintaining the status quo. But maybe itís time to revisit that old tradition. Maybe itís time to rekindle that spirit.
Secession is the ultimate check and balance. It is more important to representative government than the right to vote. Secession guarantees that a person, city, county, or state canít be held hostage by an abusive government, just because they happen to live in an area. Secession is a right, and when we limit this right—which is what we do when we marginalize secession by making jokes about it—we unwittingly endorse government monopolies. And as we all know, monopolies are dangerous. Unchallenged power always is.
I want to see a world in which the right to secede is universally acknowledged. I want to see a world in which a neighborhood can threaten to secede from one city and join the next one over, or a county in the middle of one state can become an island of another state entirely. I want to see a world in which people can secede from government altogether—for a good reason, or even just because.
I donít want to see a world in which this constantly happens, but I want to see a world in which it could happen constantly. Because once our governments at every level know itís possible, theyíll begin to behave in much different ways. Theyíll begin to represent their constituents more closely, because, if they donít, theyíll lose those constituents.
So I donít know how much merit this North Colorado business has. It may have a ton of it; it may have none. But I do know this: I know I support it. Just as I supported Texas secession. Just as I supported Austin secession from Texas. I want to see this happen one time, if not many times, if not all the time, even if it ends up being an anomaly. I want to see at least one major case of secession happen successfully in this country. Maybe then people will start to take the concept seriously again. And maybe then theyíll see it not as a joke, but as what it is: perhaps the single-most valuable weapon in the entire free-people arsenal.