On Feb. 20, the Indiana House of Representatives passed Bill 1008 in a vote of 69-25 and an Indiana’s Senate committee recently sent it to the floor for a vote. The bill authorizes the creation of a bipartisan commission to pave a path for several Illinois counties to join Indiana, pending the passage of similar legislation in Illinois and, ultimately, federal approval.
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But a corresponding bill in neighboring Illinois, House Bill 1500, remains stuck in committee, and there is ample reason to be skeptical about any change to state borders taking place. Yet, the issues raised by the proposed move speak to the difficult balance between promoting national unity and recognizing local distinctiveness.
The idea of counties leaving a state is not as eccentric as it may seem. In fact, it has happened several times in American history resulting in the states of Vermont, Kentucky, West Virginia, and Maine. And at various times, counties in Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Missouri experienced cross-border movement. The idea may be gaining traction once again, as illustrated by the Indiana-Illinois proposal and the Greater Idaho movement, which hopes to see much of eastern Oregon join Idaho.
Perhaps the best example of the local appeal—and national dangers—of the practice comes from Maine’s journey to statehood. This history highlights why local voters pursue such solutions, along with the unintended national consequences which can arise as a result of these goals being realized.
While Maine’s statehood is often remembered only in the context of the Missouri Compromise, it was also the culmination of decades of growing political and cultural divides between Maine and Massachusetts.
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Maine was originally part of Massachusetts. Following the American Revolution, many in Maine began to express resentment about how the state legislature in far-off Boston administered the District of Maine, likening their situation to that of the American colonies before the Revolution. They complained about the sale of massive tracts of land to speculators, driving up the cost of land for would-be settlers. They chaffed under taxes and regulations that were better suited to the economic realities of Massachusetts than Maine, where prices were already higher, foodstuffs and currency more scarce, and farmers more dependent on the seasonal export of timber than in the rest of the state. At the same time, Mainers emphasized their hardiness in coping with the harsher winters they endured and their distinct history. They celebrated and mourned the facts that Maine had been a separate colony from Massachusetts until the 1670s and the site of many of the most intense battles between English, French, and Indigenous forces during the early 1700s.
Perhaps most frustrating to Mainers: the domineering influence of Boston in the state’s government. They also complained that the distance from any part of Maine to Boston made it an “inconvenience” to participate in the state’s legislature, or to access government records and services.
Between the 1780s and the 1810s, there was only very slow progress toward Maine separating from Massachusetts. The Massachusetts legislature was not completely inattentive during this time, creating new district courts in Maine and allowing the counties in Maine to vote on the issue several times, with each successive occasion garnering a greater portion of the vote. Mainers, both in favor and in opposition to separation, were also active in rallying support during these years, publishing countless newspaper articles and pamphlets on the subject, as well as holding several separation conventions in Portland and Brunswick.
Pro-separation writers tended to emphasize the distinctiveness of Maine and the need for a smaller legislature, composed of men who understood the local environment and economic conditions, and who could effectively legislate on behalf of Mainers. They argued that if smaller states like Vermont and New Hampshire could govern themselves, so too could Maine. That was especially true because Massachusetts, they contended, had a history of vacillating between mismanaging and neglecting Maine, as seen in the War of 1812, when the state government did not send the militia to oust the British from occupied Castine and Eastport.
Anti-separation arguments tended to focus on the stability that remaining a part of Massachusetts offered, the larger population and economic potential of the two together, and the hopes (at least before the War of 1812) that Massachusetts would be a powerful ally in the event of a British invasion from New Brunswick.
Meanwhile, a small group of Mainers, especially in York County (west of Portland, and the location of the Portsmouth naval yard, in Kittery), favored joining New Hampshire, instead of becoming part of a new state. They had different aims from those wanting independence, but they shared the desire to be a part of a state that reflected their own political values and to which they were economically tied.
In both 1816 and 1819, the start of the Massachusetts legislative session was met with a flurry of petitions from Maine towns requesting the opportunity to vote on separation. Signed by thousands, these petitions revealed the rising popularity of the idea.
In these petitions, separatists provided numerous reasons why Maine should break off from Massachusetts. One, from the town of Hallowell, argued “the resources and extensive territory of Maine could be best called forth and improved by a local government.” They also claimed that education, so essential “to preserve the political virtue of our free and invaluable institutions,” could be better supported by a separate state of Maine.
An 1816 vote was mired in controversy, but finally, on July 26, 1819, Mainers conclusively voted to separate from Massachusetts, with 17,091 favoring and 7,132 opposing separation. In October, a constitutional convention was held in Portland and Maine’s provisional legislature petitioned Congress for statehood in January 1820. All indications suggested a rapid admission into the Union.
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But then a roadblock emerged: at the time, the U.S. had an equal number of free and slave states. Politicians from slave-holding states feared that rapid growth in the number of states that outlawed slavery would eventually lead to a national ban. As such, they threatened to block Maine’s statehood (just as anti-slavery Congressmen threatened to block statehood for Missouri).
In an effort to maintain the status-quo, members on both sides agreed to the Missouri Compromise: Maine would enter the Union as a free state, while Missouri would enter as a slave state. Additionally, no new slave states would be created north of the 36°30′ line of latitude. While Mainers got what they wanted, the Missouri Compromise merely postponed the battle over slavery. Subsequent compromises delayed the battle further, but eventually such efforts failed to prevent the outbreak of the Civil War.
When seen through this lens, Maine’s separation from Massachusetts speaks to both the spirit of community and of legislators listening to their constituents, which, at its best, makes American representative democracy work. Yet, the tie to the Missouri Compromise speaks to the dangers of geographic factionalism as well.
The Illinois residents who want to separate from Illinois share some of the complaints voiced by Mainers in the 19th century. They assert that Chicago dominates Illinois politics, and the state government does not represent them well. The Maine case illustrates that their desire to be governed by likeminded legislators and to live in a more homogenous political community is far from new.
Yet, the role of Maine’s separation in the sectional politics of the U.S. also offers a cautionary note. No one can argue that Maine’s statehood, or even the Missouri Compromise itself, was the singular or direct cause of the Civil War. It nonetheless hardened deepening partisan and geographic divisions in the U.S.
The absorption of some of Illinois’ most strongly Republican counties into already solidly Republican Indiana, strengthening Democratic control of Illinois in the process, would similarly risk writing partisan and ideological divisions into state borders.
If successful, Illinois residents leaving the Prairie State for another state, or forming a new one of their own, might feel like such a move gives them more of a voice in their own governance. Yet, the eventual outcome of the geographic tensions could deepen our already hardened partisan divides and reawaken the long-dormant precedent of writing political divisions into our maps. Redrawing the borders of Illinois, as Indiana legislators are proposing to do, might create fault lines that could one day prove rapturous.
Conor William Howard is a PhD candidate at Indiana University, Bloomington. His work focuses on the cultural and political connections between people and places in Maine and New Brunswick, following the American Revolution.
Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Learn more about Made by History at TIME here. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME editors.