Caledonia County, VT

Caledonia County has historically been a place where folks value their independence and don't take kindly to being told how to live their lives, but the political winds have shifted noticeably over the past decade. The county now carries a Cook PVI of D+17, which puts it in the same deep-blue category as the rest of Vermont, but that number doesn't tell the whole story. While the statewide average leans heavily Democratic, Caledonia still has pockets of traditional, live-and-let-live conservatism that stand out against the progressive tide sweeping the rest of the state. The trajectory here is concerning for anyone who values limited government and personal freedom, because the local culture is slowly being reshaped by outside influences and top-down mandates.

How it compares

On paper, Caledonia County and Vermont share the exact same D+17 PVI, but the lived reality is different. In towns like St. Johnsbury and Lyndonville, you'll find a mix of old-school Yankees and newer transplants who lean blue, and those areas reliably vote Democratic. But head east to Barnet or Waterford, and you'll see precincts that still break for Republican candidates, often by double digits. The swing precincts are in places like Danville and Peacham, where a strong independent streak and skepticism of Burlington's agenda can tip the balance in local races. The key difference from the rest of Vermont is that Caledonia still has a working-class backbone—logging, farming, and small manufacturing—that resists the progressive orthodoxy on issues like gun rights, property taxes, and land use regulations. In Chittenden County, you're surrounded by people who think government knows best; here, you can still find neighbors who remember when the town meeting meant something real, not just a rubber stamp for Montpelier's latest mandate.

What this means for residents

For someone who values personal freedom, living in Caledonia County means constantly pushing back against policies that feel like they're designed in a vacuum. The state's push for universal school meal programs sounds nice, but it comes with strings attached—more reporting, more oversight, and less say for local school boards. The same goes for energy mandates: Vermont's renewable energy goals mean you might see solar arrays popping up on prime farmland, and the state's carbon tax proposals keep creeping back into conversation. Property taxes are already among the highest in the nation, and every new social program from Montpelier adds another layer of cost. The silver lining is that Caledonia's rural character makes it harder for the state to enforce its will uniformly—you can still drive a gas-powered truck, heat with wood, and keep a firearm without a permission slip, but for how long is anyone's guess.

The cultural divide here is real and growing. In St. Johnsbury, you'll see pride flags and "Hate Has No Home Here" signs in storefronts, while just down the road in Barnet, you'll find "Don't Tread on Me" flags and pickup trucks with gun racks. The newcomers—remote workers from Boston and New York who bought up properties during the pandemic—tend to bring their politics with them, and they're often the loudest voices at town meetings pushing for zoning changes and environmental restrictions. Longtime residents, meanwhile, are getting priced out and feeling like their voice doesn't matter anymore. The near-term future looks like more of the same: a slow erosion of local control and a steady march toward policies that prioritize collective goals over individual rights. If you're thinking of moving here, come for the scenery and the quiet, but keep one eye on Montpelier—because what happens there will shape your freedom to live as you see fit.