猫咪社区

It鈥檚 Nov. 1, and Precious Cogwell is canvassing in Alamance County, North Carolina, encouraging people to go to the polls the next day. No one answers Cogwell鈥檚 knock at the front door of a brick ranch house, but she spies a man around back and walks over, a stack of voter guides in her arms.

鈥淎re you thinking of voting?鈥� she asks.

He looks at her warily. 鈥淚 might. I might be out of town鈥攜ou know, I鈥檓 retired.鈥�

He鈥檚 Black and so is Cogwell, and she shifts to a more familiar tone. 鈥淵ou know, turnout was a little low last time,鈥� she says.

He gives her a long look, then acquiesces. 鈥淥K, I鈥檒l do it. I鈥檒l vote.鈥�

Cogwell is working for Down Home North Carolina, a group based in five rural North Carolina counties that鈥檚 aiming to build support among poor and working-class communities to grow a multiracial, progressive coalition. This nonpartisan get-out-the-vote effort before the Nov. 2 municipal election is just one tool in its arsenal, but it matters.

Two days later, election results revealed that while not all of the candidates favored by Down Home prevailed, a couple of Black candidates they鈥檇 supported were elected to the councils of small municipalities in the county. Perhaps more important, , rising from 12% in 2019, another off-year election, to 18% on Nov. 2. It鈥檚 still a low turnout rate, but it鈥檚 a positive sign.

Other election results around the United States were far more dispiriting. In Virginia, Republicans swept state and local elections, with particularly strong turnout in rural areas. The outcome portends poorly for Democrats in 2022, and kicked off a new of about the party鈥檚 lack of popularity in rural regions. That鈥檚 due to many factors, but it鈥檚 partially the result of Democratic Party representatives鈥� diminished presence there, aside from the occasional visit during a campaign. The party鈥檚 ground operations have been receding from rural America for a decade, at least, while Republicans have courted residents consistently and year-round. 

Down Home offers a potential model for how progressives might proceed in North Carolina. The organization was established in 2017 specifically as an antidote to the Democratic withdrawal problem. 鈥淲e understood that huge swaths of the state haven鈥檛 had a complete democratic ecosystem for long periods. The progressive movement and [progressive] Democrats were not even competing for voters,鈥� says Todd Zimmer, one of Down Home鈥檚 founders. 鈥淎nd we were also seeing that poor and working people were being very poorly served.鈥�

Indeed, starting in 2012, Republicans have captured a in each electoral cycle. And while the state leaned Democratic in local elections in the past, Democratic officials tended to be fairly conservative and were often more aligned politically with Republicans than with the national Democratic Party.

What鈥檚 also the case is that in many locales, especially rural counties, the Democratic Party doesn鈥檛 even field candidates for local offices, and Republicans run unopposed.

In response, Down Home began knocking on doors and talking to people in the parking lots of Walmarts and food banks and social services agencies across several counties. That type of one-on-one communication, often with people who haven鈥檛 been engaged in the political process before, is still a hallmark of its strategy. Down Home鈥檚 goal is to address tangible needs that residents themselves identify, as a way of bypassing some of the rhetoric and culture-war talking points. The objective, ultimately, is to elect more progressive candidates who will fight for poor and working people鈥檚 needs鈥攖hough the organization emphasizes that it鈥檚 technically nonpartisan and therefore doesn鈥檛 affiliate with the Democratic Party.

The group tends to focus on bread-and-butter issues that affect lower-income people of all political persuasions. That includes big national initiatives, such as health care and a living wage, as well as explicitly local issues, such as the need for more substance abuse treatment centers rather than jails, or landfill fees that are too high.

Down Home isn鈥檛 just focused on White residents, even though the term 鈥渞ural working class鈥� tends to evoke images of just that. Like many other states, particularly in the South, rural areas are full of Black and Latino voters鈥攁nd more than a few in the last presidential election. Down Home is betting that, despite a deep racial divide, it can bring Blacks and Whites into coalition together. 鈥淲e think this is the only way to move the South and to build working-class power and have a real populist movement,鈥� says Gwen Frisbie-Fulton, Down Home鈥檚 director of communications.

But it鈥檚 slow, incremental work, especially in a place like North Carolina, where 80 of the state鈥檚 100 counties are rural and almost all of them supported Donald Trump last year. But in Alamance County, a former textile-producing region that鈥檚 lost thousands of jobs over the past two decades and has seen the rise of far-right movements, Down Home鈥檚 directors point to the election of the state鈥檚 first Latino legislator as one of the group鈥檚 successes.

More nebulous are the social and political changes. 鈥淲hen I joined Down Home in 2017, no one attended county commission meetings, no one paid attention to what was going on,鈥� says Dreama Caldwell, one of Down Home鈥檚 co-directors and an Alamance County resident. These days, she says, far more citizens are politically active, and county commission meetings are often crowded. Plus, the group has helped to unite the area鈥檚 disparate political organizations. 鈥淚t moved from being a competitive thing to a collaborative environment.鈥�

But the lack of attention from the Democratic Party has allowed conservative positions to become deeply entrenched. Some observers say there鈥檚 no way a group like Down Home, working on a shoestring, can really change minds.

鈥淵ou can talk to White rural voters who watch Fox, [but] you鈥檙e not going to convert them,鈥� says Theda Skocpol, a Harvard political scientist and sociologist who recently released a while others don鈥檛. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of romanticism on the Left that if you talk to people about things, you鈥檒l change them. You鈥檙e not going to overcome the racial divide very easily.鈥�

Indeed, Anthony Flaccavento, a resident of rural Virginia who established the Rural Progressive Platform and ran for Congress in 2018, chalks up his loss to the deep partisan divide. 鈥淚 think people thought, 鈥業 can鈥檛 take a chance on a Democrat,鈥欌�� he explains. 鈥淭he polarization is so extreme.鈥� But Flaccavento himself doesn鈥檛 believe rural America is a lost cause for progressive ideas. He鈥檚 created a new organization, the , that trains liberal organizations in communicating with rural residents.

Down Home鈥檚 organizers are true believers too. And they鈥檝e got a couple of tools in their box that might give them an advantage.

Getting Deep Into Outreach and Canvassing

It鈥檚 a few days after the election, and a Down Home employee, working from home in Winston-Salem, is cold-calling rural residents around the state to ask how they鈥檙e doing and what kind of concerns they currently have.

鈥淗i, this is Jillian with Down Home,鈥� the caller says. 鈥淲e鈥檙e just calling neighbors to see how you and folks you care about were impacted by the pandemic.鈥�

Before the coronavirus pandemic broke out, Down Home took pride in its face-to-face door-knocking campaigns. These days, it often connects with people over the phone. But the upshot is the same: conversations with rural residents that aim to connect on an emotional level, as a way to find common ground. It鈥檚 called , and it鈥檚 a technique Down Home has been employing since the organization鈥檚 2017 launch. Sometimes, deep canvassing campaigns鈥攍ike this one, conducted by Jillian and her colleagues鈥攁re largely about listening. Often, though, the goal is to change minds.

Does it actually work? 鈥淎ll the time,鈥� says Bonnie Dobson, one of Down Home鈥檚 deep-canvassing trainers.

鈥淭he whole thing about deep canvassing is that people are conflicted about certain things. It鈥檚 cognitive dissonance,鈥� she says. For example, someone on the phone might say, 鈥淲e don鈥檛 need government鈥攑eople should be taking care of themselves.鈥� Dobson might sympathetically respond with her own story, and then add that she鈥檚 been grateful for the school buses that delivered meals to kids in her town during the pandemic.

And that might nudge the other person to begin thinking鈥攁nd talking鈥攁bout a time when they got help that didn鈥檛 look like the stereotypical 鈥済overnment assistance鈥� they鈥檇 had in mind. The level of listening and respect used by Down Home鈥檚 callers, who are themselves working-class rural residents, helps keep people from becoming defensive and digging into their positions.

During the 2020 presidential race, People鈥檚 Action鈥攁 national network of progressive groups, including Down Home, with roots in community organizing鈥� in 280,000 conversations around the country. Researchers found that the model decreased Trump鈥檚 vote margin with women by 4.9%, and with all voters by 3.1%. Use of the technique was estimated to be over 100 times more effective per person than the average electoral persuasion strategy in presidential races. And the shift in support persisted for at least four months following the canvassing.

Still, Down Home鈥檚 leaders admit that the racial divide that Skocpol referenced is formidable. 鈥淲e know that conservative politicians have long used racial dog whistles to attract White working-class voters, and we know that dog-whistle politics work,鈥� says Dan Bayer, a longtime deep canvasser with the organization. 鈥淪o, you run into people who鈥檇 probably support a program, except for these stereotypes they had of 鈥榣azy minorities鈥� taking advantage of it.鈥�

Down Home tries to dispel those fears by using another technique, the 鈥渞ace-class narrative.鈥� Developed by University of California, Berkeley, law professor Ian Haney L贸pez, the race-class narrative uses a script that references racial division up front.

鈥淭he main message,鈥� says Bayer, 鈥渋s, whether we鈥檙e White, Brown, or Black, we all want safe communities and a shot at a decent life. But those in power use racism to distract us while they pass huge tax cuts for themselves or large subsidies for their businesses. Don鈥檛 you think we should work together?鈥�

L贸pez and his research partners have found that . After all, if racism is the main reason low-income Black and White residents haven鈥檛 come together in solidarity鈥攚hat L贸pez has called 鈥渢he holy grail of progressive organizing鈥濃�攖hen it鈥檚 critical to call it out for what it is, rather than hoping it鈥檒l go away, as Democrats tend to do, says L贸pez. 鈥淣obody wins in sports or politics by leaving the other side鈥檚 best player unguarded,鈥� he quips.

George Goehl, director of People鈥檚 Action and a longtime community organizer, has come to strongly support deep canvassing, especially used in tandem with the race-class narrative. 鈥淚f you want to advance a progressive agenda on economics, race, gender鈥擨 don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 possible unless we dramatically expand how many people we鈥檙e in conversation with that don鈥檛 agree with us on some things,鈥� he says.

Down Home has big plans for the coming year. The organization hopes to scale up and expand across the state. That鈥檒l begin with another major listening canvass so the group鈥檚 leaders can grasp citizens鈥� concerns and develop a statewide issue mandate. One item will most certainly be Medicaid expansion, but the rest will be determined by citizens鈥� needs.

Shifting the balance of power in the state won鈥檛 be easy. North Carolina鈥檚 electoral districts are deeply gerrymandered in favor of Republicans, and polarization means only 15% of the state鈥檚 2,700 precincts are competitive. Down Home鈥檚 chance of influencing legislative and Congressional elections is slim. But Trump won the state in 2020 by only 1.4 percentage points, the smallest margin of any state. If Down Home works quickly, the group could have a real opportunity to impact the 2024 presidential election.

But winning elections wouldn鈥檛 be the only important accomplishment. For a group introducing progressive ideas to rural areas after years of inattention, success might just look like losing by a little less.