Will the Maine massacres change the politics of gun control in rural America?

In the aftermath of a two-day manhunt for the murderer of 18 innocent victims in Lewiston, Maine, it is easy to overlook that something extraordinary happened: the congressman for the district, Rep. Jared Golden (D), issued a stunning apology. “The time has now come for me to take responsibility for this failure” said Golden, who has earned A+ ratings from the NRA. Golden, who grew up in Lewiston, said that he now regrets his “false confidence that our community was above this and that we could be in full control.” 

Of course, it’s easy to dismiss and even disparage Golden’s new position. We already know the familiar story: Tragedy strikes, thoughts and prayers are issued, and then gun owners, particularly in rural America, dig in. Armed with outsized political influence in the Senate, nothing gets done because rural people, including Golden’s own constituents, get scared and “cling” to their guns even more.

Or maybe not.

We are scholars of rural politics. We study how people build coalitions. We also live less than an hour from where the shootings took place. We are trying to understand the carnage as best anyone can, and we are compelled to think of a different world — one where we never again have to explain such an act to our students, let alone our own children. 

It is understandable that in an effort to make sense of this tragedy we focus on guns. Reporting on Lewiston, reporters were quick to note Maine’s relatively lax gun laws and how lawmakers have faced opposition trying to enact reforms found elsewhere in the country. 

Maine is a revealing case. Although more guns and gun owners are outside rural places, it is undeniable that states with higher rural populations have laxer gun laws. Golden represents the second-most rural congressional district in the country; it is obvious, you may say, why he has stood in the way of gun reform.

Over the last two years, we’ve surveyed more than 10,000 rural residents across the country, and we have asked a lot about guns. The story we’ve heard is not so simple.

Yes, a majority of rural voters own guns. Guns are a part of rural culture. In Maine, rural people live with both loose gun regulation and very little violent crime. We are proud rural residents ourselves, and both of us own guns. Not a day goes by driving home from work this time of year without passing hunters, young and old, coming out of the woods. It is what Mainers do. 

And yet a slim majority (52 percent) of rural voters actually support a ban on military-style assault weapons in the U.S.; while that support is paper thin, fervent opposition is confined to just under a third of rural voters. The vast majority of rural voters (67 percent) support a complete ban on the purchase of firearms for Americans younger than 21. There is a window for reform. (Data cited comes from our new book, “The Rural Voter: The Politics of Place and the Disuniting of America.”)

At the same time, rural voters are overwhelmingly opposed to the idea that “simply put, mass shootings happen because there are just too many guns in the United States.” We asked that question just a week after the 2022 school shooting in Uvalde, Texas, and only 29 percent of rural voters agreed with the statement, whereas nearly 60 percent of urban voters did.

How to make sense of that difference? For rural residents, the problem is guns — but the problem is also something else. But, too often, in an effort to cope ourselves, we divide along lines where the problem is one thing or the other. In drawing those lines, we too often look over the fact that most rural residents — those most likely to own a weapon in the U.S. — actually believe both things to be true.

So when we watch our nation’s political leaders try to chart a way forward, we’re torn. The Democratic Party is a big tent, but its current leadership tilts urban. And urban gun violence is real and tragic. At the same time, if we really care about building a coalition to change gun policy in America, it has to include rural voters. But when commentators mock the fact that it is harder to buy Sudafed in Maine than an assault weapon, we understand why many rural Americans feel like their way of life will never be taken seriously.

If there is a silver lining, small as it can be, it is that there is at least one person in the Democratic Party who can rise to the task — an authentic rural resident, who knows the complexities; has shot some rounds in his time; is, like the Lewiston-shooter, a veteran who has spoken openly about PTSD; and calls Lewiston, Maine, his hometown.

We hope Rep. Golden takes the time to grieve for his community. The loss is personal.

But when he is ready to get back to work, we implore him to speak to the rest of rural America — and not just northern Maine. We hope Democratic leaders let someone authentic work to overcome this intractable political divide. 

Guns are a problem. Guns are a part of our culture. Both can be true. We need a leader that recognizes both. Jared Golden is that person. Let him lead.

Nicholas F. Jacobs and Daniel M. Shea are professors of Government at Colby College in Waterville, Maine. They are the authors of the book “The Rural Voter: The Politics of Place and the Disuniting of America” (Columbia University Press, 2023).