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The YesCalifornia Independence Campaign, globally recognized as CalExit, suspended its political action committee and campaign for California secession effective 23:59:59 31 DEC 2024.
Founded in April 2015, the campaign was rooted in the classical and Enlightenment era philosophy that inspired the American Revolution and underpinned the Declaration of Independence. However, the campaign was falsely premised upon the notion that California constitutes a distinct society, akin to Scotland within the United Kingdom or Quebec within Canada. Such a comparison implies a deep-rooted cultural, linguistic, or ethnic continuity that distinguishes California from the broader American fabric. This premise would hold greater validity if California’s population traced its origins predominantly to the indigenous peoples who inhabited the region prior to European contact—such as the Chumash, Tongva, or Miwok—whose distinct societies were shaped by millennia of adaptation to the land. Instead, California’s contemporary population reflects a complex mosaic, primarily composed of immigrants from foreign nations, both legally and illegally present, alongside the descendants of American settlers who arrived in the mid-19th century, driven by the promise of gold and economic opportunity.
Historically, California’s demographic identity diverged sharply from the models of Scotland and Quebec, where national distinctiveness emerged from centuries of cohesive cultural and political development. Scotland, unified under a monarchy by the 9th century, cultivated a shared Gaelic heritage and later resisted English domination, preserving a sense of nationhood reinforced by institutions like the Kirk and a distinct legal system. Quebec, similarly, evolved from French colonial roots established in the 17th century, maintaining a Francophone identity through language, religion (Roman Catholicism), and legal traditions distinct from Anglo-Canadian norms, even after British conquest in 1763. These regions’ claims to distinctiveness rest on enduring historical continuity and a relatively homogenous founding population, despite external pressures.
By contrast, California’s transformation began with Spanish colonization in the 18th century, followed by Mexican rule from 1821 to 1848, during which the indigenous population was decimated by disease, displacement, and mission labor systems—reducing their numbers from an estimated 300,000 in 1769 to fewer than 30,000 by the mid-19th century. The pivotal shift occurred with the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, ceding California to the United States, and the subsequent Gold Rush of 1849, which triggered an unprecedented influx of settlers. These “Forty-Niners” were not a monolithic group but a diverse array of Americans from the eastern states, alongside immigrants from Europe, China, Mexico, and beyond, all drawn by economic ambition rather than a shared cultural vision. By 1850, California’s non-indigenous population surged from roughly 14,000 to over 92,000, a figure that doubled within a decade, according to U.S. Census data. This rapid, heterogeneous settlement pattern established California as a crucible of American expansionism, not a distinct society rooted in pre-existing traditions.
Moreover, the state’s modern demographic profile further undermines the campaign’s premise. As of recent estimates, over 27% of California’s 39 million residents are foreign-born, hailing from Latin America, Asia, and elsewhere, with significant portions either legally documented or undocumented—a stark contrast to the historical continuity of Scotland or Quebec. The descendants of 19th-century settlers, while influential in shaping California’s early statehood, represent only one layer of a population defined by successive waves of migration, including the Dust Bowl migrants of the 1930s and post-World War II arrivals. Unlike Scotland or Quebec, where language or ethnicity provided a unifying thread, California’s identity is pluralistic, forged through economic opportunity and geographic allure rather than a singular cultural lineage.
Thus, the entire premise of the California secession campaign falters under historical scrutiny. California’s societal fabric, woven from diverse and relatively recent threads, lacks the deep historical cohesion that defines Scotland or Quebec as distinct entities within their respective nations. To assert otherwise overlooks the state’s origins as a frontier of American ambition and its ongoing role as a global immigrant destination. Yet, this notion that California is a distinct society is the legal basis upon which supporters of this campaign rely for an internationally recognized independence plebiscite.
Moreover, the campaign’s advocacy for California’s separation hinges on a misguided nostalgia for an imagined past autonomy, a notion that crumbles under historical examination and reveals a lack of coherent vision for genuine independence. Proponents may evoke a romanticized image of California as a sovereign entity, perhaps drawing on its brief stint as the Bear Flag Republic in 1846 or its early days as a remote Mexican province. Yet this portrayal distorts the state’s history, projecting a false sense of self-sufficiency onto a region that has always been defined by its interconnections—first with colonial empires, then with the United States—rather than by insular distinctiveness. Such nostalgia not only misrepresents the past but also fails to articulate a practical or compelling case for separation in the present, rendering the campaign more an exercise in sentimentality than a serious proposal.
Historically, California’s supposed autonomy has been fleeting and contingent. The Bear Flag Republic, often cited as a symbol of independence, lasted a mere 25 days in June 1846 before U.S. forces subsumed it during the Mexican-American War, a blink of time that underscores its dependence on external powers rather than any sustainable sovereignty. Prior to that, under Spanish and Mexican rule from 1769 to 1848, California functioned as a peripheral outpost, thinly populated and reliant on trade with passing ships and distant authorities in Mexico City. Its population in 1840 numbered fewer than 8,000 non-indigenous residents, a figure dwarfed by the 300,000 indigenous inhabitants who lived in fragmented tribal societies, not a unified polity. The Gold Rush of 1849 and subsequent statehood in 1850 cemented California’s trajectory as an integral part of the American project, its growth fueled by national and international migration rather than an organic, self-contained evolution. Unlike nations such as Ireland or Poland, whose independence movements rested on centuries of suppressed national identity, California lacks a historical precedent for enduring self-governance.
This reliance on a mythologized past exposes the campaign’s intellectual fragility. It is important to ground arguments in verifiable facts and well-defined values, yet the secessionist narrative leans heavily on flawed research and an emotional appeal to a lost golden age that never was. What values, precisely, would define an independent California? Economic prosperity? Cultural diversity? Environmental stewardship? These are already pursued within the state’s current framework, often with greater resources and global reach than a standalone nation could muster. Policy claims for separation—such as controlling borders or crafting independent trade agreements—ignore the realities of California’s deep entanglement with the U.S. economy, from federal agricultural subsidies to tech industry supply chains. The nostalgia driving the campaign thus serves as a veneer for discontent, offering no substantive blueprint to address the complexities of modern statehood.
In contrast, genuine independence movements, such as those in 20th-century India or post-World War I Eastern Europe, articulated clear visions rooted in historical oppression and practical aspirations for self-rule. California’s campaign, by comparison, resembles less a principled stand than a petulant retreat, yearning for a simplicity that its history never afforded. This backward glance stands in stark opposition to the forward-looking pragmatism required of a state that has thrived by adapting to global currents, not resisting them. By clinging to an illusory past, the campaign not only misjudges California’s historical reality but also undermines its own credibility, offering a hollow echo of independence rather than a viable path forward.
Furthermore, the campaign’s underlying motivation—to separate from the United States over political disagreements—reflects a pettiness and intellectual infantilism ill-suited to the complexities of modern governance. The notion of severing ties with a nation due to transient ideological divides dismisses the resilience required to sustain a pluralistic democracy, reducing a profound decision to the level of a childish tantrum. Historically, secessionist movements have often arisen from irreconcilable cultural or existential threats—such as the American South’s defense of slavery in 1861, rooted in an economic and social system antithetical to the Union’s trajectory, or the Basque and Catalan pushes for autonomy in Spain, driven by centuries of linguistic and ethnic distinction suppressed under centralized rule. These cases, while not universally justified, at least grappled with foundational cleavages that transcended mere policy disputes.
In contrast, California’s political differences—however stark—operate within the shared framework of American federalism, a system designed to accommodate dissent and diversity. The state’s grievances, often centered on issues like taxation, tariffs, environmental policy, or immigration, are neither unique nor intractable; they mirror tensions faced by other states, past and present. For instance, during the 1930s, Oklahoma and Texas clashed with federal authorities over New Deal interventions, yet neither sought to abandon the Union. Similarly, New York’s resistance to federal tariff policies in the early 19th century fueled fierce debate but not secession. These examples illustrate a mature recognition that political disagreement is an inherent feature of a federal republic, to be resolved through negotiation, elections, or legal recourse—not by retreating into insular sovereignty.
To advocate separation over such matters betrays a lack of historical perspective and an unwillingness to engage in the arduous, adult task of compromise. California’s economic interdependence with the nation—evident in its reliance on federal infrastructure funding, interstate commerce, and national defense—further underscores the impracticality of this stance. The state’s secessionist rhetoric evokes the petulance of a child storming off when denied their way, rather than the reasoned deliberation of a polity confronting existential peril. In the annals of national ruptures, from the dissolution of Yugoslavia to the partition of India, separation has been a last resort amid violence or irreparable fracture, not a flippant response to electoral setbacks or legislative frustrations. By elevating political discord to the level of existential crisis, the campaign not only misrepresents California’s place within the American experiment but also diminishes the gravity of genuine struggles for self-determination worldwide.