Planning Decisions, Inc.

The overall economic vitality of a region, therefore, depends on the strength of its economic base, on its ability to take some local asset—natural or human—and turn it into something the rest of the world is willing to pay for. As long as this base remains strong, the locally oriented superstructure built on top of it can thrive. Indeed, as far as local businesses are concerned, it doesn’t much matter what the base is, as long as there is one. If one base industry, say textile mills, declines, local businesses can continue unaffected as long as another arises to take its place, say electronic components or call centers.

The impact of a declining economic base is readily evident in many of the small former mill towns that dot the border between rural Maine and our great north woods. As the demand for our paper and wood products has fallen and with it the number of people required to produce those increasingly specialized products that do remain globally competitive, the local businesses that served those communities have suffered hard times. While less directly related to the global economy, they remain, nonetheless, dependent upon it.

But nowhere is this indirect dependence more starkly evident than in Maine’s island communities. As their traditional economic base of fishing and marine related businesses has suffered losses—and now even lobstering is enduring some setbacks—the impact on local businesses and residents has multiplied. Living in exquisite isolation off the coast of Maine has always been romantically attractive and extremely expensive, wonderful for photos in The Smithsonian Magazine or Downeast but exasperating when trying to get the kids to soccer practice on the mainland. Rising fuel costs are driving up the cost of everything that has to make the unavoidable transit between island and mainland. The growing number of people who can afford to indulge their taste for romantic isolation, even if only seasonally, is driving up the cost of housing. These costs combined with declining sources of traditional employment threaten to undermine the viability of full-time island residency.

“So what’s the big deal?” you say. People choose to live on Maine islands. No one forced them there. If they can’t afford to stay, then they’ll have to move, just like the rest of us would have to if we suffered similar pressures.

And that, precisely, is the point. Island communities are Maine’s “canary in the coal mine”—the attention getter whose heightened sensitivity to forces that threaten us all serve as a warning. Yes, there is no latch, catch or key that can prevent the beauty of island life from vanishing away. But neither is there any latch, catch or key that can prevent the beauty of Maine life as we know or have known it from vanishing away.

The challenge of economic development, of preserving the beauty of both our environment and our way of life, is to protect and enhance the assets that support our economic base—healthy forests, clean beaches, energetic and responsible workers—and to cultivate the entrepreneurial imagination that finds new ways to turn our fundamental assets into something the rest of the world wants to buy. This challenge is greatest on our islands—how can island residents reduce travel, buy local, work from their homes, attract paying visitors, provide affordable housing—but really not that different in kind from those we face all across the state. Their fate, in short, while not essential to our survival, may well point in directions we would be wise to follow.

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