Mader Blog

Rick Perry made headlines last week with his seeming endorsement of Texas secession. A Rasmussen poll found that “only” one in five Texans would vote to secede, while fully a third believe the state has the right to leave the Union. Perry’s comments have provoked not a little eye-rolling, as well as commentary from all sides of the political spectrum suggesting that the governor was doing neither himself, nor his state, nor his party any favors.

Let me say at the outset that I don’t favor Texas secession. But having spent a considerable amount of time in Texas, I’m going to be bold and claim an understanding of the State and its culture that I think a lot of people don’t necessarily share, and I’m going to suggest that without an appreciation for the history and culture of the Lone Star State, it’s difficult to understand Gov. Perry’s comments.

Texas is special. I suggested, tongue in cheek below, that it constitutes a distinct society within the Union. As I see it, this uniqueness is the product of two things.

One is history. The first significant political entity called Texas was a state under the Mexican federal constitution of 1824. The 1824 Constitution was a relatively liberal document, creating a republican form of government and granting a fair degree of local control to the nineteen constituent states—including the state of Coahuila y Tejas. When Santa Anna replaced the 1824 Constitution with a more centralized government in the mid-1830s, a number of states—including Coahuila y Tejas—rebelled. In March, 1836—following a decade of participation in Mexican domestic politics—a convention of Texians declared independence from Mexico. The Texas Declaration of Independence is worth reading in full; it is a forthright restatement of the principles of individual liberty contained in the American founding documents. But while many have interpreted the Texas Revolution to be no more than an attempt to achieve, by private means, an American annexation of the land, I think the last paragraphs of the Declaration show the real motive:

These, and other grievances, were patiently borne by the people of Texas, until they reached that point at which forbearance ceases to be a virtue. We then took up arms in defence of the national constitution. We appealed to our Mexican brethren for assistance. Our appeal has been made in vain. Though months have elapsed, no sympathetic response has yet been heard from the Interior. We are, therefore, forced to the melancholy conclusion, that the Mexican people have acquiesced in the destruction of their liberty, and the substitution therfor of a military government; that they are unfit to be free, and incapable of self government.

There can be no doubt that the Texian revolutionaries, many of whom were born American, believed in the inalienable rights declared by their American forebears in 1776. But the Texas Declaration of Independence was first and foremost an invocation of Mexican rights guaranteed by the Mexican constitution. To the degree that the Texians invoked the spirit of the American revolution, they were invoking the spirit of universal liberty—not the spirit of American identity.

That’s borne out, I think, by the fact that the Texas revolution resulted in an independent Republic that lasted nine years. True, the Texans initially sought annexation; but ultimately they chose, at least for a time, to live as a nation among nations, and as a nation they were recognized by, among others, the United Kingdom, France—and the United States. And annexation, when it came, came with concessions—specifically, the ability of Texas to divide itself into a total of five separate states.

My point is that Texas has a history of independent political existence separate and apart from the United States. It fought a revolution inspired by but separate from the American revolution, and as a result it has its own revolutionary flags, shrines, battles, and heroes. Texas was not a tract of land waiting to be settled, annexed, and made a state; it was a polity, a Mexican state, and a country. And Texas hasn’t forgotten.

And that’s the second element at work: Texas hasn’t forgotten where it came from. We in Canada often hear it said that the Americans do a much better job of teaching their history in public schools, where children learn American history each and every year. Well, not in Texas: in Texas they learn Texas history each and every year. (They learn American history too.) But the legacy of independence isn’t just a quirk of history; it permeates the culture. There’s a reason, I think, why the question of illegal Mexican immigration doesn’t have the quite the same resonance in Texas as it does in (say) California: Texas once really was part of Mexico, and while Texans have no appetite for rejoining that country, they are (I believe) significantly less troubled by the notion of a well-trod border, because they understand that the border is a function of politics, not of culture and certainly not of the land. And the Spanish and Mexican influence remains: just like the buses in Ottawa, the buses in Austin play announcements in two languages—English and Spanish. Proficiency in Spanish is neither uncommon nor unusual. And many of the most fluent bilingual Texans are Tejano—the descendants of Spanish-speaking Texians whose families have been American as long as Texas has been American. Tejanos and Anglos were partners in the Revolution, and they remain partners in every facet of Texas life to this day. I don’t mean to paint an idealized picture of race relations in Texas—goodness knows there have been dark times—but I don’t think the cultural influence of Texas’s Mexican history can be understated.

And none of that is to mention the frontier mentality that defines the Texas ethos. Texas is Big; Texas is Tough; Texas is trucks, and rattlesnakes, and cactuses, and cattle; Texas is hats and boots and meat and beer; Texas is plains and hills and forests and lakes and deserts that will kill you dead. And for all of that, Texas is the second largest state in the Union by both area and population; the fifteenth-largest economy in the world; the home to more Fortune 500 companies than any other state. Texas is bold, and brash, and confident.

In short, Texas is its own place. That’s the point. I entered the University of Texas School of Law with about 450 other students; by law, 80% of them were Texans. And I’ll tell you something: not a quarter of them wanted to be anywhere but Texas. They’re in Houston, and Dallas, and San Antonio—three of the ten biggest cities in the United States; they’re in the Valley, or the panhandle; they’re in East Texas or West Texas (not to be confused with West, Texas). It’s not that they don’t know about the rest of the country, or that they’re not capable of going—browse the ranks of the country’s top firms and you’ll see more than your fair share of Texas grads. It’s just that, for the most part, they’re not interested: Texas is everything they need.

Texas isn’t going to secede from the Union—even if it is a donor state (we’d say a “have state”). When Texas starts refusing federal funds across the board, then we can talk about secession. But the point is this: Texas is its own place, with its own history, its own traditions, and its own sense of what I think can only be described as a national identity. That’s not to say Texans don’t love America; by God, they love it. They love it as Texans. They see no contradiction between the two. But I believe that in the heart of every Texan there is this serene confidence: Texas abides. Texas will go on. And for my own part, while I hope that the Union of the American States lasts into the millennia, nevertheless I believe that if the Union ever does falter, if it ever does fail, yet still there will be Texas.