America's 13 Nations

The Scots-Irish borderlanders who settled these hills brought a warrior culture forged in centuries of conflict along the English-Scottish border. They arrived already distrustful of aristocrats and government—and that suspicion never left. From the hollows of West Virginia through the Ozarks to the plains of West Texas, this nation prizes personal honor, individual liberty, and the right to be left alone.

Greater Appalachia was once solidly Democratic—these were FDR's people, union country, the backbone of the New Deal coalition. The transformation began with civil rights and accelerated through cultural battles over guns, religion, and coastal condescension. By 2024, it's the most Republican nation in America, and with 18.2% of the electorate, the largest by vote share.

The 2024 story: Despite already voting R+20.8 in 2020, Greater Appalachia moved another 3.4 points right. There's no ceiling in sight. The evangelical concentration (28.7%) and lowest median income of any large nation make this Trump's strongest territory—and it's not shrinking.

The Puritans who founded New England believed in building a "city on a hill"—a perfected society governed by educated citizens working toward the common good. That civic idealism spread west with Yankee migrants, planting institutions from public schools to town meetings across the Upper Midwest. Today Yankeedom stretches from Maine through Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota.

This was once America's dominant political culture. In 1960, Yankeedom cast 29% of all presidential votes. Today it's 19%—a staggering decline that mirrors the region's population stagnation while the Sunbelt boomed. The nation that gave America abolitionism, public education, and progressive reform is now fighting a demographic rearguard action.

The 2024 story: Yankeedom swung R+5.0, driven by working-class white voters without college degrees. The region's high education levels (35.2% with degrees) kept it blue, but the education polarization that's reshaping American politics hit hardest here. Places like rural Maine and Wisconsin's Northwoods are leaving the Democratic coalition.

Founded not by religious dissenters or yeoman farmers but by Barbadian slave lords who transplanted the West Indies plantation system to the Carolina coast. This nation was designed from the start as a rigid caste society—and that hierarchical DNA persists. The Deep South stretches from South Carolina through Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and into East Texas.

The biracial political dynamic here is unlike anywhere else in America. With 24.7% Black population—second only to New France—elections are largely a referendum on racial coalition-building. Democrats win when Black turnout surges; Republicans win when white voters consolidate. Georgia's flip in 2020 showed the former; 2024's swing showed the latter.

The 2024 story: The Deep South swung R+5.8, with particularly sharp movement among Black men. The Atlanta suburbs that powered Biden's 2020 win came back to earth. This nation is growing fast—from 6% of the electorate in 1960 to 13.5% today—making its rightward drift especially consequential for national politics.

William Penn's Quaker experiment in religious tolerance attracted waves of German-speaking immigrants who valued hard work, community, and minding your own business. This pluralistic, middle-class culture spread from the Delaware Valley through Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and into the Great Plains. The Midlands is America's true swing region.

This is the whitest nation (70.9%) and home to the country's largest Amish and Mennonite populations. The culture prizes moderation and distrusts ideological extremes—which made it the decisive battleground for generations. Pennsylvania's famous swing counties like Erie and Northampton sit squarely in Midlands territory.

The 2024 story: The Midlands swung R+3.4, modest by national standards. At R+2.9, it remains genuinely competitive—the closest of any nation. But the trajectory matters: this former Democratic-leaning region has now voted Republican in three straight elections. If it consolidates red, Democrats lose their Midwestern path to 270.

When English colonists were still huddled on the Atlantic coast, Spanish missions and ranchos had already spread from the Rio Grande to San Francisco Bay. El Norte is the oldest European-settled region in America—and its Hispanic majority (47.2%) traces roots not to immigration but to being here first. The borderlands culture blends Mexican and American identity in ways that defy easy partisan mapping.

For decades, Democrats assumed El Norte was safely blue: Catholic, working-class, and immigrant-connected. The 2020 election shattered that assumption. The Rio Grande Valley—once D+40 country—swung toward Trump. The shift wasn't about immigration (these families have been here for generations) but about economics, masculinity, and cultural values that aligned more naturally with populist conservatism.

The 2024 story: El Norte swung R+9.2—the fourth-largest shift of any nation. This wasn't a one-time Trump aberration; it was confirmation of a realignment. Nearly 39% Mexican ancestry, strong Catholic tradition (29.7%), and a working-class economy made Trump's economic populism resonate. The Democratic assumption that Hispanic = reliable blue vote has been definitively disproven here.

Unlike regions settled by family farmers, the Far West was colonized by corporations—mining companies, railroads, and cattle empires that needed federal investment to tame an unforgiving landscape. From the Nevada desert to the Montana high plains, this nation occupies vast, arid territory where the federal government owns most of the land and controls most of the water.

This creates the Far West's central paradox: fierce anti-government rhetoric paired with profound dependence on federal land management, water projects, and military installations. The LDS/Mormon population (11.2%) gives Utah and parts of Idaho and Nevada a distinctive religious conservatism, while the growing Hispanic population (26.5%) adds demographic complexity.

The 2024 story: The Far West swung R+5.0—less than the national average, partly because it was already red territory. But the growth story matters most: from 6% of the electorate in 1960 to 9% today. Phoenix, Las Vegas, and Denver metros are adding voters faster than anywhere except the Deep South. Nevada's narrowing margins suggest this growth may tilt the nation's future.

When the Dutch West India Company founded New Amsterdam in 1624, they prioritized commerce over ideology. The colony welcomed anyone who could make money—Jews fleeing Brazil, Huguenots from France, Quakers, Catholics, and free Blacks. That commercial cosmopolitanism still defines metro New York: tolerance as a business strategy, diversity as competitive advantage.

Today New Netherland remains America's most diverse region—no racial majority (41.5% white, 23.6% Hispanic, 15.5% Black, 11.1% Asian), the highest Jewish population (3.4%), and the nation's largest concentration of recent immigrants. It's also the wealthiest and most educated, with median income of $93,094 and 41.7% holding degrees.

The 2024 story: New Netherland swung R+13.0—the second-largest shift of any nation after Spanish Caribbean. The Bronx swung R+22, Queens R+21. This wasn't wealthy Manhattan moving right; it was working-class immigrants in the outer boroughs—Dominican, Puerto Rican, West Indian, and Chinese voters—responding to inflation, crime concerns, and cultural disconnection from progressive Democrats.

New England missionaries seeking to build a second "city on a hill" settled the Pacific Northwest and Northern California in the 19th century. They brought Yankee values—public education, civic reform, communal improvement— and planted them in a landscape that attracted dreamers, utopians, and iconoclasts. The counterculture of the 1960s and the tech revolution of the 1990s reinforced the region's progressive, experimental character.

Today the Left Coast is America's most secular nation (only 39.1% religiously affiliated), its most educated (43.9% with degrees), and its wealthiest ($108,073 median income). The Asian population (16.6%)—Chinese, Vietnamese, Filipino, and Indian—makes it the most Asian region outside Hawaii. Tech wealth has reshaped politics, creating a class of socially liberal but economically centrist voters.

The 2024 story: At D+32.9, the Left Coast remains the bluest nation in America—and its R+4.2 swing was among the smallest. High education and wealth insulated voters from working-class realignment. But San Francisco's recall of progressive DA Chesa Boudin showed limits to progressive tolerance on crime. The Left Coast will stay blue, but perhaps less adventurously so.

The first permanent English settlement in America, Tidewater was founded by younger sons of English gentry who sought to recreate the manorial life they couldn't inherit back home. This aristocratic culture—valuing hierarchy, tradition, and respect for authority—shaped Virginia, Maryland, and the Chesapeake coast. Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe all came from here.

Today Tidewater has been utterly transformed by the federal government it once spawned. The DC suburbs—Fairfax, Arlington, Montgomery, Prince George's— dominate the region economically and politically. With 42.8% holding degrees and median income of $94,141, Tidewater has become a highly educated, government-connected enclave. The military presence (8.8% veterans) adds institutional conservatism even as federal workers lean Democratic.

The 2024 story: Tidewater swung only R+4.0—one of the smallest shifts. The federal workforce and educated suburban professionals proved resistant to Trump's populism. But the margins matter: Virginia went from D+10 to D+6, keeping the state blue but no longer safely so. Government shutdowns and agency relocations could further shift this nation's politics.

South Florida is politically unlike anywhere else in America. Cuban exiles fleeing Castro in the 1960s established a fiercely anti-communist enclave in Miami-Dade. Nicaraguans fleeing the Sandinistas, Venezuelans fleeing Chávez, and Colombians fleeing FARC reinforced this refugee politics. For these communities, "socialism" isn't an abstract policy debate—it's the reason their families lost everything.

The Spanish Caribbean's demography is distinctive: 39.6% Hispanic (heavily Cuban at 15.1%), 38.4% non-Hispanic white, and 16.1% Black—including Haitian and Jamaican communities. The region skews older (median age 47.6, highest of any nation) as retirees migrate south. Religion matters too: strong Catholic tradition (24.2%) plus evangelical growth among recent Latin American immigrants.

The 2024 story: The largest swing of any nation—R+13.7, flipping from D+6.1 to R+7.6. Miami-Dade, once reliably blue, went red. Republican messaging on socialism, crime, and economic opportunity resonated with working-class Hispanics who see themselves as entrepreneurs, not victims. If this realignment holds, Florida is no longer a swing state.

When France ceded Louisiana to Spain in 1762, and Spain sold it to America in 1803, the French-speaking Cajun and Creole populations were already here—and they never assimilated into Anglo-American culture. Acadiana, the bayou country west of New Orleans, still speaks French in churches and kitchen tables. The culture values joie de vivre, community bonds, and a Catholicism tinged with African and Caribbean influences.

New France has the highest Black population of any nation (30.5%) and the strongest Catholic tradition (35.7%). The biracial culture is distinctive: Creole identity blurs the lines that define politics elsewhere. French ancestry (11.7%) remains meaningful here. New Orleans' unique politics—a blue island in a red sea—demonstrates how much this culture differs from its neighbors.

The 2024 story: New France swung R+2.9—the smallest shift of any nation. Why? Perhaps Catholicism provides some insulation from evangelical-driven Republican gains. Perhaps the biracial culture resists stark polarization. At R+17.4, it's solidly Republican, but its stability while neighbors lurched rightward suggests something distinctive about Cajun political culture.

Hawaii exists outside the continental framework entirely. Annexed in 1898 after American businessmen overthrew the Hawaiian monarchy, the islands developed a unique multicultural society shaped by plantation labor migration— Japanese, Filipino, Chinese, Portuguese, Puerto Rican—layered atop Native Hawaiian and white American populations. No racial group holds a majority.

The result is America's only Asian-plurality state (37.2%), with a political culture that emphasizes consensus and community over ideological combat. Filipino ancestry (14.5%) exceeds any mainland concentration. Buddhism (3.5%) plays a visible public role. The military presence (8.2% veterans) adds a conservative counterweight to progressive Honolulu.

The 2024 story: Greater Polynesia swung R+6.4—modest by national standards but notable for a state that gave Obama 45-point margins. Asian American voters—particularly Chinese and Vietnamese communities—showed Republican movement nationally. Hawaii's high cost of living may have made economic concerns more salient than cultural liberalism suggests.

Before Europeans arrived, Alaska's Indigenous peoples—Yup'ik, Inupiat, Aleut, Tlingit, Haida, Athabascan—had lived here for thousands of years. In the 8 boroughs we classify as "First Nation," Native Alaskans remain the majority (65.8%). These communities maintain distinct languages, governance structures, and cultural practices that predate—and persist independently of— the American party system.

Russian Orthodox Christianity (8.5% of population) traces to the colonial era when Russian fur traders established missions. This gives First Nation a religious character unlike the evangelical Protestantism dominating most of America. The economy depends heavily on fishing, subsistence hunting, and resource extraction—industries where federal environmental policy directly affects livelihoods.

The 2024 story: First Nation swung R+12.2—third-largest after Spanish Caribbean and New Netherland, dropping from D+10.6 to R+1.6. Why such a dramatic shift in a region with minimal exposure to mainstream media? Resource politics—particularly Biden's restrictions on oil drilling in the Arctic—may have mattered more than national cultural battles. For communities living close to the land, policy has immediate, tangible consequences.