Vermonters, both rich and poor, yuppies and “greennecks,” tend to be live-and-let-live types. They also have a long tradition of independent thinking, and, as in the past, town councils — and there are 260-plus towns — play the primary role in governing. From 1777 through 1791, the state functioned as an independent republic (hence the name “Second Vermont Republic” for the current secessionist movement). Williams points admiringly to that early republic’s constitution, which enshrined holding private property as a right but, he says, “also gave elected officials the power with just compensation to reclaim it if the public cause justifies it. To me, that tension between private property and the commons is at the heart of this whole question of independence.”
As Williams likes to point out, “the American Revolution was won with just 25 percent of the population supporting it.” If they work hard enough, Williams believes, a committed minority of people can win over the majority. For now, though, while many Vermonters seem ready to embrace re-localization and energy independence as worthy goals, a clear majority rejects taking that final step of secession. Lately polls have shown that about 12 percent of Vermonters favor secession — up from 8 percent in 2006. Vermont isn’t the only state to have a secessionist movement — there are similar groups of varying size and fervor all over the country.
Paul Gillies, a Montpelier lawyer who has worked in Vermont state government for decades, does not expect to see an independent Vermont in his lifetime. “Not a chance,” Gillies says. “But I celebrate the idea because it’s a classic Vermont thing to feel as though you’re special and don’t even have to be part of anything but yourself. When it comes down to being practical, it’s an economically unfeasible idea. It’s based on a historical misunderstanding about how we came to be a state. But at this point we’re still in the isn’t-it-charming stage.”
Of course, secessionist movements in the United States have been linked to slavery and racism — a fact that came home to Williams when he spent a few months as acting chairman of the Second Vermont Republic. On its Web site, the Vermont group had linked to the site of another group, the League of the South, which publicly has disavowed racism but stresses its Anglo-Celtic roots in a way that makes a reasonable person assume there’s a subtext. The link has been removed, and Williams told one interviewer, from the Southern Poverty Law Center, “I have absolutely no interest, nor does Vermont Commons, in partnering with or publishing the ideas of known racist groups.” Still, some of Williams’ more vocal critics fault him for being too willing to pick and choose only those parts of the secessionist message he likes.
What would an independent Vermont look like? What issues would it tackle? Williams believes that Vermonters would not only pay lower taxes, but they’d also have more say in how their money gets spent. Specifically, Williams points to control over Vermont Yankee, the big nuclear power plant on the state’s southeastern border, and to car emissions, which are regulated federally, not state by state. “Right now the courts have ruled that Vermont and other states don’t have the right to regulate that,” he says.
In May, Williams took part in the first-ever retreat to discuss building a Vermont independence platform, which considered policies relating to media, energy, and agriculture. Williams, for one, is convinced that an independent Vermont would have a lot to offer the world. “People hear secession and they say, ‘So you want to build a wall around Vermont ... . ’ No, that’s not what we want to do. We want to engage the world on our own terms as citizens of this sovereign state, not as part of this 300-million-person empire.”
Here is where the yaks come in.
Rob Williams believes they, too, have a role to play in making Vermont more independent: As he says on the Vermont Yak Company Web site, yaks offer a way “to bring new variety to the local food movement,” to contribute to “a holistic farming effort in which pasture-fed yaks would fertilize fields and gardens,” and to bring in revenue through meat, agritourism, and breeding.
There is tremendous irony in promoting local self-reliance by importing Asian animals by way of Minnesota. But to hear Williams describe them, there is no downside to raising yaks in Vermont. “They really are the perfect Vermont bovines, for a whole bunch of different reasons,” he says. “They love the cold, and here in Vermont half the year is cold. Their meat is incredibly tasty as well as incredibly healthy. It’s got one-sixth the fat and 40 percent more protein [than beef].” Yaks are slightly smaller than a typical American cow, and are more efficient grazers. “Three or four yaks can graze the same amount as a single cow,” says Rob. “So if you are on 20 acres, you can actually increase your productivity without beating up on the land.”
What’s not to like? Well, one of the yaks did give everyone a scare by tossing 7-year-old Theron over his head. And because the U.S. Department of Agriculture classifies yaks as exotic animals, more paperwork and fees are involved than there would be with plain old cattle. Though he does not wish to antagonize Vermont’s cattle farmers, Williams wonders if yaks won’t prove to be the perfect way to revitalize the state’s old farms.
“My vision is to see yaks across the state someday,” he says.
Or, as the jokester in him puts it, it’s yak to the future.
Freelance writer Merrell Noden ’78 is a frequent PAW contributor.