Apparently, buying outdoor clothing now requires a political consultation. You arrive needing rain gear and discover that your judgment needs waterproofing.
Patagonia’s “Vote the Assholes Out” slogan leaves me wondering whether the company has considered the obvious complication: Customers might agree enthusiastically, then vote against Patagonia’s preferred candidates. Democracy can be terribly inconvenient when people insist on participating unsupervised.
Full disclosure: We produced a fly-fishing television series for about a decade that included Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard. I found Yvon likable, interesting, and authentic. Some of his political views amazed me. How does somebody arrive there? Still, we could agree that a bonefish was a noble creature worth protecting, even when our preferred routes to protecting it differed.
I enjoyed that. An echo chamber makes a lousy fishing companion. Besides, I’ve never asked a bonefish for its position on immigration.
But somewhere between sharing a flats boat and selling fleece, the outdoor industry developed an unfortunate confusion about customer service. Apparently, making excellent equipment qualifies a company to tell customers which political concerns to abandon. Please consult the care label: Wash cold. Tumble dry. Reconsider your entire worldview.
Patagonia put its notorious slogan on shorts in 2020, saying it targeted politicians who disregard climate science. Its current voting project provides a separate initiative, explicitly open regardless of party or voting intention. Fair enough. But the old slogan still deserves an answer: Which assholes?
The politicians whose public-land proposals Patagonia opposes? What about those whose border policies I consider reckless? Those supporting male participation in women’s sports? Officials defending sanctuary policies while demanding further restrictions on lawful gun owners? Politicians trying to restrict hunting or weaken wildlife professionals' management authority?
A constitutional republic requires citizens to weigh competing priorities. Nobody assigned that responsibility to Ventura's marketing department.
I hunt public land. I give to conservation and evaluate conservation programs. I care about habitat, access, and wildlife. I also care about whether the country functions. The federal government owns roughly 640 million acres. Debating the management of that enormous estate should allow room for something more sophisticated than identifying the villain by the letter after his name.
Then there’s Jackson, Wyoming.
In August 2021, resort co-owner Jay Kemmerer co-hosted a House Freedom Caucus fundraiser featuring Jim Jordan, Marjorie Taylor Greene, and Mark Meadows. Patagonia subsequently stopped supplying Jackson Hole Mountain Resort’s retail operations.
Imagine the inventory meeting: Plenty of jackets, but unfortunately the owner has been observed associating with unauthorized Republicans.
Patagonia had every right to end that relationship. Kemmerer had every right to participate in politics. Yet the company’s version of civic engagement apparently includes commercial consequences when a business partner engages incorrectly. Free expression, with an approved-vendor list.
Edward Abbey’s George Hayduke could scarcely improve on this, although Patagonia has made political monkey-wrenching considerably easier to expense.
It takes remarkable confidence to tell a conservation-minded customer that his concerns about crime, borders, or hunting rights rank below your corporate priorities. I wanted a pocket big enough for a fly box. Apparently, that was the wrong question.
I’m not predicting bankruptcy. Patagonia plainly has devoted customers. I wonder how many more customers might buy its gear if buying a jacket didn’t feel like financing a lecture on their moral deficiencies. That’s potential business nobody can count at the register.
Maybe change the slogan to “Vote the Worst Assholes Out.” Let citizens decide who qualifies. I could support that.
Until then, thanks for the reminder, Patagonia. I intend to vote the assholes out.
And I’ll buy my next jacket somewhere else.
– Chris Dorsey
Chris Dorsey is a Coloradan, 30-year media veteran, biologist, outdoor television producer and natural history filmmaker whose writing has appeared in the Wall Street Journal, Newsweek, Forbes and dozens more national titles.