Dorgan called the Buffalo Commons proposal “a nutty idea” thought up “by some elitists who know the worth of nothing and the cost of everything. What’s the difference between having difficulty in the weather and difficulty in getting to work? Sitting in traffic, that’s not difficult?” Then he threatened to launch against Deborah and Frank Popper one of the most lethal weapons known to North Dakotans. “I’d like to send the authors of that proposal one male and one female prairie dog,” he said with a menacing chuckle, “and they could put them in their yard and it wouldn’t be long before they had a whole lot of prairie dogs.”
On a Monday evening last September, twenty or so former North Dakotans gathered at the Atlas Grill in the US Bank Plaza in downtown Minneapolis to discuss what’s so great about their home state. The event was part of an effort called the Ambassador program, set up by North Dakota’s newly established Department of Commerce. Armed with statistics and success stories, ambassadors are supposed to network within their adopted cities, convincing people and businesses to relocate or expand to North Dakota. A map provided by Linda Butts, the state official running the dinner, shows that there are ambassadors everywhere, from San Francisco to Chicago.
The attendees stood around chit-chatting and munching various flavors of Sakakawea chocolate bars, straight from Mandan, and then introduced themselves. They were from Larimore, Bismarck, Devils Lake, Glenfield, places like that. Most knew each other, and even those who didn’t seemed to share a common sensibility, born of a deep familiarity with utter geographical vastness. Later, during a PowerPoint presentation, Butts would parse this quality as a reluctance to brag, the harboring of small dreams, a suspicion of outsiders, and a low tolerance for risk.
But that’s North Dakota’s history, she would point out—the way it’s been. The job of the ambassadors is to surge ahead, look toward the future, accentuate the positive: North Dakotan traits like trustworthiness, a strong work ethic, and an adherence to family values. “We grow up with a sense of responsibility,” said one female ambassador, proudly. “I don’t think people are that way anymore, but we are.” Here, here, agreed the others, with a smattering of applause. Another claimed that North Dakota would soon be “the jewel of North America. They will look at our low energy costs and say, ‘Wow.’” A man stood and declared, “I think the weather’s a positive: We’ve got four seasons!” Butts seconded that sentiment. When she talks to businesspeople around the nation, she said, a hint of playful feistiness in her voice, “I say, ‘Okay, so the weather’s cold. What else do you want to talk about?’”
The financial problems of North Dakota, however, go beyond matters of perception and character. The state desperately needs to broaden its economy beyond that historical reliance on wheat production. It needs jobs that young people might be interested in—careers in the medical industry, in manufacturing, in the production of energy from both wind and oil. “The biggest issue we’re dealing with is trying to bring in new, higher paying, new-age types of jobs, technology jobs,” said Lee Peterson, the state’s first Commissioner of Commerce. “Agriculture has been a blessing and a condemnation. It’s been good to the state for a long time, but we didn’t diversify like we should have early on.”
The battle—against history, against nature, perhaps against the forces of inevitability—is a formidable one. The state’s remoteness makes it somewhat unappealing to industry, since the materials needed for production, along with the products that will be exported, have to go a long way, no matter where they have to go. Also, the overall population is aging (in 2003, North Dakota ranked fifth among states when it came to federal subsidies per capita, that is, dollars received per tax dollar spent, largely due to Social Security payments). It’s losing children at a rate faster than any other state in the country. Because twenty-somethings aren’t putting down roots and having kids, it can be tough to gather and keep a sizeable pool of employees.
Still, there is reason for optimism, said Peterson. In addition to the honest, hard-working nature of the people, “we don’t have hurricanes or earthquakes here,” he noted. “We don’t have violence issues.” If a business took up with North Dakota, “All your costs would be less. Your taxes would be less. Your utilities would be less. North Dakota has the lowest worker’s comp costs in the nation.” In fact, in the name of drawing investment dollars, there is almost nothing the state won’t do. “The Legislature and the government have made a commitment to have the best business climate in the country,” Peterson said. “Companies can operate here without burden.” And, to some degree, it’s worked: In 2005, Forbes magazine voted Fargo number four and Bismarck number five in its rankings of “best small metros for businesses and careers.”
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