Individualism and Community in the Modern Sierra

It's no longer news that the Sierra foothills and the Sierra itself have experienced significant waves of in-migration since the 1970s. At first the newcomers were mainly retirees taking advantage of low real estate values and year-round good weather, especially at the lower elevations.

But as the area's traditional resource economy based on logging, mining and ranching faded, then largely disappeared, new residents arrived to work in or found businesses related to tourism and outdoor recreation. Kayaking, snowmobile treks, hunting, fishing, hiking, skiing, mountain biking, rock climbing and whitewater rafting, along with motels and restaurants, became economic lynchpins. Already developed areas like the Tahoe Basin drew this population initially, then similar demographic influences began to be felt throughout the range.

Other newcomers braved long commutes to jobs in Reno, Carson City and California's Central Valley cities. More recently, as the Internet has allowed workers to settle anywhere and telecommute, the appeal of mountain living increased. By far the majority of these commuters, telecommuters and service economy entrepreneurs, however, come from urban areas and bring with them urban sensibilities and attitudes.

But urban attitudes are often quite individualistic, particularly regarding questions of lifestyle, culture and schools, and conflict with the community norms of established Sierra population centers. One the other hand, those community norms typically favor a greater individualism than the former urbanites are comfortable with concerning property rights and environmental issues. In many places this has led to resentment and a fracturing of community.

The bonds holding communities together has been an interest of mine for quite a while, especially since reading a 1985 sociological study Habits of the Heart – Individualism and Communitarianism in American Life by Robert N. Bellah, which I rank among the handful of books that have most influenced me.

Additional thinking and reading about the concept of community led me to the essays of Wallace Stegner, who famously said, "I hate cowboys." By which he meant the cowboy myth that unbridled individualism has been the foundation of our national experience. It was cooperation, he insists, in the form of communal water projects, shared labor, shared equipment, and neighbor looking after neighbor that shaped the westward expansion and won the American west.

After Stegner my next stop was Isaiah Berlin, whose work centered on understanding civilization and totalitarianism. This quote from his work is an example: "One of the fundamental human needs, as basic as those for food or shelter… is to belong to identifiable communal groups, each possessing its own… traditions, historical memories, style and outlook. Only if we truly belong to such a community, naturally and unselfconsciously, can we… lead full, creative, spontaneous lives…"

Or, back to Stegner: "… American individualism, much celebrated and cherished, has often developed without its corrective, which is belonging." Yet both Berlin and Stegner recognized that belonging has multiple dimensions: there is the community of the barn raising and the threshing bee as well as the community of the lynch mob or the Hitler Youth.

What came to fascinate me, though, was the natural, day-to-day tension between individualism and community, and the tradeoffs necessary to reconcile the two in some lasting way. How much of one must people cede in order to gain the other? Yet all cultures, whether communitarian like Japan's or nominally individualistic like our own, have ways of downplaying this tension, of pretending that it doesn't exist. My goal here, and in my 2006 novel Belonging is to acknowledge it and see it more clearly.

The story is set in Downieville, the seat of Sierra County government, where I once lived and still have many friends. The timeframe is the mid-1970s, chosen to capture the beginning of the demographic wave discussed earlier. Moreover, I'm told that the conflicts I portrayed as fiction are now more pointed and more relevant in fact. Not only have newcomers driven property values up, creating housing pressure on local families, but newcomers have a great deal more disposable income these days, relatively speaking, so increasingly rely on imported urban pleasures enjoyed privately rather than on community activities.

While I know this decrease in community to be true of Downieville, Nevada City and Auburn, the places with which I am most familiar, and I suspect it applies more broadly throughout the Sierra, I'm not certain. Hence I especially invite comments and thoughts on this theme from readers elsewhere in the range. Does anyone but me find the inevitable tradeoffs between individualism and community in mountain California society now weighted more toward the former and less toward the latter than they were ten, twenty or thirty years ago?

 

Bill Pieper, Author of the novel Belonging  (Comstock Bonanza Press, 2006)

http://stores.ebay.com/bpbooks

 

Belonging is The Key

I appreciated reading about the economic and demographic shifts in the Sierra linked to the notion of belonging. Yep, it isn't news that lifeways and lifestyles are changing in the mountains, along with cultural norms and the social fabric that sustained a certain type of community life. But drawing the connection between community change and a sense of belonging to a place isn't something you read about everyday. At least I don't. And I'd like to. Because I am curious about what it is that causes one to feel a tangible sense of belonging somewhere or to some place or group of people. What is it that gets us from feeling like outsiders to feeling like insiders, or at least part of something larger--be it a meadow, a town, a region, or a group of folks. How to get from here to there? I think it is an interesting question, especially for the Sierra towns that are exploding at the seams with new sub-division residents, vacation home owners, and tourists. The scene is definitely set for tension between newcombers and oldtimers as well as between folks living close to the land without much spare change and 2nd and 3rd homeowners with plenty of disposable income. The economic forces pushing the changes isn't going to slow anytime soon. So it seems wise to consider how to bring folks together, build community, and strengthen a sense of belonging to both a place and to one another in a place. I agree with Catherine that participation in community efforts is one key way to foster belonging. What are some other ways to it?

from an '80s in-migrant

I bought Sierra foothill property in the 80s when prices were cheap compared to today. My new neighbors laughed big belly laughs when I told them how much I paid for my acreage then. They practically roll on the forest floor when price listings are posted. We all do.

After 13 years of living here full time, I consider myself a resident, but I'm still a newcomer to many of the folks I see at the the Country Store or who lift a hand to wave on any dirt road back up here.

The children of the '70s in-migrants are trying to make their homes here and it's tremendously expensive to buy in.

There's that, and there's the feeling of belonging, or not.

I still meet folks who I've seen for years at the gas station, but whose names I've never known, until we stuffed envelopes together for the Cultural Center mailing or pulled blackberries on a meadow restoration project. Belonging seems to be on an 'as-needed' basis up here.

And we could talk about diversity in one of the whitest counties in the state. Or racism and homophobia in redneck rural California. I've always said that I much prefer the bluntness of hearing such blurting from one of the guys I'm working with on the volunteer fire department than the smug, deception of urban liberals who are proud to take a lesbian to lunch. At least here, I'm in the conversation with someone who shares a sense of community values with me. I'm a part of their world and they a part of mine.

And if you're talking conservation, then community *is* definitely needed. All aspects of the community must come together to protect open spaces, restore community treasures, and make decisions for now and for the future of the people who now make up the communities.

Participation is belonging.

Catherine Stifter

Participation is Belonging

Now that's a wonderful distillation. Mind if I borrow it? --Bill Pieper

Please do

I doubt that it is an original thought. And I'd love to hear more about what makes up a sense of belonging. Catherine Stifter

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