[First Published in the Feb. 2013 edition of The Basic Alternative Newspaper]
Far from acting as a referendum, the recent presidential
election has highlighted discord within the United States. As a result,
conservatives are making their feelings known. You’ve seen them on the evening
news, wearing their continental militia uniforms and waving revolutionary
flags. Channeling the spirit of 1776, they’ve called for the nuclear option.
That’s right. They want to secede from the United States and form their own
country. Petitions have been presented by all fifty states—including Idaho,
where 6,458 residents signed it. Of course, over 15,000 people signed another
petition to strip the citizenship from anyone petitioning for secession. Never
mind, the patriots know what to do. They’ll take their ball—and state— and go
home. While unlikely, it is interesting to consider the possibilities. What if
the secessionists had their way? What if
Idaho became the Democratic [oops, there’s that word!] Republic of Idaho?
…Well, the first thing you’d notice is that Idaho [the
republic] just got a lot smaller. Why the shrinkage? Over 60 percent of the
state consists of federal acreage. That land is the property of the citizens of
the United States and, as foreigners; we have no claim on it. In fact, we won’t
even be able to step foot in it without acquiring a passport and visa courtesy
of the good old USA—something that might be difficult to obtain considering the
rhetoric spewing from the mouths of liberty-loving patriots here. Yes, the
United States might decide to designate our new republic as a state sponsor of
terrorism. The result: Idanistas could find themselves celebrating Christmas
with Iran and North Korea.
Once federal lands are no longer accessible to our new
founding fathers, another issue will arise. What to do with all the livestock?
It seems that some of our oppressed yeomen have been grazing their animals on
the cheap using land that belongs to the US of A. In 2011, there were almost
1,300 grazing authorizations on public lands within Idaho. The U.S. doesn’t let
Mexican cattle roam around on American soil, why should they make an exception
for the republic? As a stopgap, ranchers might consider hitting the trail for
one last roundup, then driving their livestock over to Boise to forage on the
grounds of the new nation’s capitol until other arrangements can be made.
Speaking of other arrangements, mining on public lands in Idaho will also be
ancient history. Ever heard of the General Mining Act of 1872? Foreigners need
not apply. On a related note, the
thousands of civilian employees and retirees in the Mountain Home AFB area will
have to decide what country they wish to live in. For those flying a Don’t
Tread On Me flag, the choice will be obvious: start packing.
The architects of our brave new republic will face a number
of economic hurdles. For instance, what are they going to do for money? A new
country needs its own monetary system. What’s it going to be? Here, visionaries
will demand a system in which currency stands for something real—like the gold standard. Trouble is, there isn’t
enough gold in Idaho to make that work. But the principle is sound. All we need
is something tangible to base our currency on. What about potatoes? The pride
of Idaho, they’re famous. Like a certain well-known credit card, they’re
accepted everywhere. The Americans can keep their lousy Dollar. Who needs it?
After all, we’ll have… the Tater.
Where will we keep our newly minted Taters? After the
republic is established, American banks, yearning with homesickness and aghast
at their third-world surroundings, will surely leave. When was the last time
you saw a Bank of America in South Sudan? In response, enterprising Idanistas
might open their own banks, but who’ll ensure them? In the U.S., the FDIC
protects bank accounts with typical American boorishness. Not our republic. No,
if our bank gets robbed, we’ll have to grab a potato rake and join the posse.
Speaking of taters, who’s going to buy the new republic’s
agricultural exports? Not the United States. Under the terms of NAFTA, Mexico
and Canada get preference. Meanwhile, the Democratic Republic of Idaho, basking
in a newfound sense of national identity, will wither beneath a barrage of
restrictive tariffs. The republic could turn to other venues. What about other
newly formed countries, the Republic of Texas for instance? It might work. We
could export our potatoes and sugar beets to Texas in exchange for their chief
export—more Texans.
On the bright side, our lack of a market might work in our
favor. We might need those potatoes to feed our own people. According to
official Idaho [State not Republic] statistics, over 14 percent of the populace
received food stamps as of October 2012. Secessionists will argue this proves
their point. The system is failing. Why, under the republic, we’ll be back on
top in no time with everyone driving brand new caddies [presumably imported
from the States]. But suppose the new republic’s economy, by some perversion of
manifest destiny, looks more like North Korea than Shangri La, what then?
To be fair, the founding of the new republic will bring
about some of the secessionists’ goals. Take the prickly topic of regulation.
ATF, EPA, FDA—give us a break. The founding fathers didn’t need someone riding
herd on them, and neither do we. Anyone who isn’t wearing their liberty cap on
backwards will breathe easier once these oppressive chains are cast off. Of
course, our expectations must be lowered. All in the name of freedom, you
understand. Consider this scenario:
It’s late. You’re on the way home from work. Poor little
Jenny has a cold, and so you stop to get some medicine. The parking lot is dark
as you grope your way inside the pharmacy. In the dim light, long rows of empty
shelves remind you of cold-war Russia. The republic has some supply side issues,
but nothing it can’t handle. In the back... a wan light beckons. You’re
relieved to find a pharmacist on duty. At least, you hope he’s a pharmacist.
There’s really no way to tell since regulatory agencies don’t exist. Anyway,
you explain the situation to Earl—that’s his name—and he produces a bottle from
beneath the counter.
This here’s
what you want…imported all the way from the Republic of Utah. That’ll be thirty
taters, he says.
Payment complete, Earl hands you the bottle. You’re
concerned. After all, it has a cork in it. Squinting, you attempt to read the
label through the duct tape holding it on:
Col. Mittens
Ol’ Tyme Antiseptic Snake Oil
Unequaled for the
treatment of rheumatism,
neuraligia,
lumbago & all other known
ailments. Accept
no substitute!
Beside this declaration the likeness of a man—Col.
Mittens?—smirks in the half-light. He reminds you of a used car salesman you
knew back in Encino.
What’s
in this, you ask.
Well,
I ain’t exactly sure, Earl says, frowning.
In the States, the Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906 protect
consumers. But our republic has dispensed with such amenities—bad for business,
you know? Little Jenny might be in
for a rough night….
The republic will be presented with a host of governance
issues: Separation of church and state? Not likely. If you had doubts about the
State of Idaho’s commitment to this principle, wait till you catch the
republic’s act. They’ll make the Vatican look like an atheists’ retreat. See,
part of America’s problem is that they’re too liberal. In the new republic,
we’re going to get our minds right. And what better way to begin than by
clarifying the republic’s stance on birth control? There won’t be any. It’s unnecessary, and immoral. If the
ladies don’t want to get pregnant, that’s their problem. One thing’s for sure,
the demand for aspirin is going to skyrocket, particularly if we listen to a
certain fellow patriot from the People’s Republic of Wyoming.
Out of necessity, the republic will have to institute an
immediate draft. It’s imperative that we protect our borders from foreign
intrusion. What if those warlike, and possibly cannibalistic, hordes from the
Republic of Nevada decide to invade? How about those skulking Oregonians? We’ll
all be marching around in concentration camps wearing Birkenstocks with our
sweaters tied around our necks.
While the Democratic Republic of Idaho will have problems,
they won’t be alone. Indeed, Idanistas might be forgiven their Schaden-freude
as they contemplate the trouble they’ve caused for the United States. For those
U.S. citizens living in proximity to the border, life will never be the same.
Lowered property values; crime; complaints of illegal spudbacks taking jobs away from Americans. Inevitably, they’ll
demand a fence to keep us out.
In the end, the Democratic Republic of Idaho, founded on a
platform of small government and limited taxation, will succumb to the
realities of 21st century life and find itself receiving humanitarian
assistance from the U.S. or Mexico. They’ll have to, in order to stave off the
poverty resulting from their dysfunctional governance. Still, it’s important to
keep up appearances. So, in order to remind visitors that we’re channeling a
whole new kind of time zone here, let’s have a big sign at the international
border to greet them:
WELCOME TO THE
DEMOCRATIC
REPUBLIC OF IDAHO…
Please set clocks
back 200 years.
—
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