Old Sarum, in Wiltshire, England, had seven voters, none of whom lived there, and two seats in the House of Commons. No one had actually lived there for two centuries. Elections were held under a tree in the “Election Acre.” Old Sarum came to be known as a “rotten borough.” Manchester had 180,000 people, and not a single seat in parliament. It was the early 1800s, and this situation was not to be corrected till the Reform Act of 1832. So, what does this have to do with Wyoming? I’ll get to that.
Complaining about Big Government has become a major pastime. This big-government complaint, however, misses the real problem, which is too much Government. The difference is not just semantics.
The difference involves most of our political organization as a nation. Our random boundaries lead to duplication of efforts, unnecessary expenses, and to conflicts. The first sign of this is from a glance at a map, and seeing all the straight lines. Whether drilling a gas well, or designing a Wilderness Area, takes as long as it does primarily because of overlapping jurisdictions.
John Wesley Powell urged that political boundaries, especially in the Rocky Mountain region, follow watershed divides. One of the few places where Powell’s advice was taken is along the boundary between Idaho and Montana. The mountains, trees, and grizzlies work perfectly.
Conversely, the Roaring Fork River in Colorado, where Aspen is, passes through three counties; or, rather, parts of three counties have imposed themselves on an otherwise nice valley. This causes no end to duplication, extra costs, and conflict. There is much more on watershed-divide boundaries in Wallace Stegner’s West of the Hundredth Meridian.
A clear example of duplication of efforts is that we have two Dakotas. Consider, if there were only one, the public would bear the cost of one governor instead of two, and only two senators instead of four. Likewise, all government and university costs would be combined, and cost less than half.
Extrapolating from this, how would a new map of America look, if, say there were only twelve states? Could Wyoming, as a state, be dissolved? Could it’s twenty-three counties mainly follow watershed divides? Could they combine themselves into money-saving, and more convenient entities? “Pearcy’s Plan,” seriously considered in the 1970s, had 38 states.
If through such realignments, Wyoming were to lose its Washington congressional delegation, what would the loss be? The fossil-fuel industries would lose a few mediocre lobbyists. Would “We the People” be any worse off?
Do people in more populous states view Wyoming as a fake state, kind of like Old Sarum? Should Californians be blamed if they resent that though they outnumber us 68 to one, we each have two senators? When I was there last, I heard grumblings along these lines.
The eastern states have somewhat more “organic” boundaries, reflecting their histories, whereas the western states, the “big-box states”, were drawn on maps before anyone making them had a chance to see the topography.
It’s unfortunate that Jedediah Smith died when he did, killed by Comanches near the Santa Fe Trail, at the age of only 33, in the year 1831. He was working on a book about his travels, and upon a map of the west, which he knew phenomenally well. Unfortunately, most of his materials have gone up in flames. People like himself and Powell, and certainly Indian travelers, would have drawn very different boundaries.
In Wyoming, we should keep in mind that our capital, Cheyenne, is nearly a suburb of Denver. The things you can see from the state house steps are both in Colorado: The Mummy Range, and a big wind farm. The name of our state comes from a little valley in Pennsylvania, and no one knows how it came to be applied here.
All this may lead to some people thinking that I hate Wyoming. That is not the case. I am indifferent to all states. Patriotism is not my drug. What I love are the natural aspects of the Rocky Mountain region: Its endless variety of climates, mountains and rivers, forests and wildlife, and our fortuitous situation of vast public lands upon which we can all enjoy these natural aspects.
Alaska’s borough system is something to have a closer look at, and perhaps it might help us to lower costs, and improve citizen management and representation. Might we at least look into downsizing from a state to a territory? Politically, are we Old Sarum in America, a rotten borough?
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