Green rolling hills and the West Virginia miracle
Garrett Ballengee and Jessi Troyan on coal, West Virginia’s future, and the ties that bind a state together.
Garrett Ballengee is president and CEO of the Cardinal Institute in West Virginia. A winner of the 2022 Buckley Award, member of the American Enterprise Institute’s Leadership Network, and proud George Washington Statesmanship Fellow with the Intercollegiate Studies Institute, Ballengee believes the foundational ideas of freedom will lead his state to achieve a “West Virginia Miracle.
Jessi Troyan is the director of policy & research for the Cardinal Institute and was raised in Pinch, WV. Like Ballengee, she is a graduate of West Virginia University. Troyan completed a master’s degree and PhD in economics from George Mason University. They both recently spoke with American Habits editor Ray Nothstine about coal, energy, and West Virginia culture.
Just how big was coal then and now in West Virginia’s economy, and how do you see that evolving over the next quarter of this century?
Ballengee: I’m 37, about to turn 38, and even in my lifetime, I’ve witnessed a significant shift in the role of coal mining—economically, politically, and culturally. While its cultural importance still resonates in many communities, its economic and political weight has noticeably declined. At its peak, coal mining in West Virginia accounted for anywhere from 20% to 25% of the state’s GDP, a level of influence that’s hard to overstate. Today, that number has dropped to about 3% of the state’s GDP. While these figures fluctuate with market conditions, the overall decline has significantly reduced the industry’s political influence, including that of the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) and organized labor more broadly.
Then also economically, I think a lot of West Virginians are shifting their focus from, “Well, once I graduate high school, I can go work in the mines and make a six-figure job right now with a little bit of overtime,” right? A lot of people are trying to shift, especially in southern West Virginia, where, historically at least, coal mining has been so prominent.
Because of West Virginia’s policy environment and a perceived—often very real—lack of opportunity, many people have looked elsewhere. The decline of coal mining isn’t just about the industry itself; it has broader implications for the state and for entire generations. That’s a major reason we’ve seen significant outmigration.
Jessi, is there anything you want to add in terms of the current state of the coal economy, and just a future look of what are the concerns or high points?
Troyan: Garrett brought up that important facet of how fewer people are employed directly in the coal mining industry now. There are two pieces there. One, coal is just less in demand, but number two, you have the increased role of mechanization in the production process. Coal mining is a much more capital-intensive process now than it used to be.
We don’t have the same kinds of stories and prevalence of people literally dying on the job.
Obviously, the drawbacks are fewer jobs, particularly these higher-paying jobs that people could rely on for generations. At the same time, West Virginia is no stranger to mine disasters. I can think of two right off the top of my head that are particularly tragic, in the last 20 or so years, the Sago Mine disaster in North Central West Virginia and the Upper Big Branch disaster in the Southern coalfields of West Virginia.
With that increased mechanization, you have increased safety. We don’t have the same kinds of stories and prevalence of people literally dying on the job, extracting those resources that power and build America.
Still, West Virginia remains the second-largest U.S. coal producer, behind Wyoming, at about 15% of total output. On top of that, West Virginia is the top producer in the country for metallurgical coal, which is used to produce steel.
We’re still building things in America. The demand for metallurgical coal is still going to be there, but the demand for thermal coal that you’re burning to fire up your power plants, that is going to take a diminished role as natural gas extraction technologies advance and other renewables grow, which are more competitive from a price standpoint and for people who are particularly concerned about environmental issues.
You touched on this indirectly, but for those outside of coal country, the phrase ‘war on coal’ became common, especially during the Obama administration. For people in West Virginia, particularly those in the industry or with mining backgrounds, what did that phrase mean? Was it seen as myth, fact, or something in between?
Troyan: I’d say the phrase ‘war on coal’ is part myth but rooted in reality. There were two major forces at play. On one hand, the federal government was imposing stricter environmental regulations. Key examples include the Mercury and Air Toxics Standards and the Clean Power Plan, which aimed to reduce carbon emissions from power plants.
When coal is burned, it releases water vapor, carbon dioxide, and trace elements into the air. At the same time, stricter regulations, especially around surface mining and its impact on waterways, added pressure. So yes, there’s a legitimate argument that federal regulations made coal less competitive than it otherwise might have been.
But regulation wasn’t the only factor. The rise of natural gas, especially from shale formations like the Marcellus and the booms in places like North Dakota, introduced a cheaper, more accessible energy source. Advances in extraction technology made natural gas increasingly viable, meaning coal was hit on two sides: competitive market forces and tightening environmental regulations.
Ballengee: I think to a lot of people, the Green Movement, typically embodied by Obama, really did themselves no favors in the way that they were talking about coal. People in West Virginia might have been more receptive if the message had been more future-oriented. But instead, it often came with an attitude that felt condescending. And West Virginians, especially in Appalachia, are highly sensitive to that kind of tone because it comes across as looking down their nose at them.
Later, that condescension showed up with “learn to code.” West Virginians really take umbrage to the fact that we are somehow seen as lesser than. Picking specifically on an industry so synonymous with the state really engendered a backlash among West Virginians, and I’m sure in Eastern Kentucky and blue-collar communities everywhere. That manifested itself with the Friends of Coal association, which was this response to that.
You still see these bumper stickers in West Virginia and Kentucky, point of pride, in fact. “I’m a friend of the coal industry.” To those people, that doesn’t mean dirty energy. It doesn’t mean an industry that is a fossil, no pun intended. What it means is, for me, this industry fed my family for generations. Not only did it feed my family for generations, but it also allowed America to win World War II. It allowed the Chicago skyscrapers to be built. It allowed for that famous New York City skyline.
That’s a great point, of course.Shifting some you’ve had this attack on coal, and energy’s changing, what does diversification in the energy sector in Western Virginia look like? What are the conversations?
You have a trained workforce in energy. Are there other areas that West Virginia is moving into harness and to capitalize on energy policy, beyond coal?
Ballengee: I think this would shock a lot of people, but West Virginia’s not just a coal powerhouse. It’s a fossil fuel powerhouse. There’s a very robust gas field in the northern part of the state, the Marcellus and Utica Formations. We’re the fourth-largest natural gas producer—something that surprises many.
Fossil fuel use isn’t going away anytime soon in West Virginia. Coal provided high-paying jobs throughout the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s—and still does in some areas today. Now, we’re also seeing economic growth in counties with robust shale deposits, where natural gas is driving a new wave of opportunity.
You’re seeing a lot of new schools being built. You’re seeing employment growth. I think there’s an opportunity here for nuclear power. We’re not really jumping on the bandwagon on that from an organizational perspective per se, but we discuss it.
Nuclear power was once banned under West Virginia’s Constitution—a decision that could be unpacked through the lens of public choice theory. But looking ahead, given the state’s proximity to half the U.S. population and its longstanding role in energy production, West Virginia is well-positioned to remain a powerhouse. Coal will likely remain a baseload backup, while natural gas continues to grow and nuclear more of a future option.
Troyan: As nuclear technology continues to develop—especially with innovations like small modular reactors—I’ve started thinking more about how we can connect West Virginia’s energy past with its future. This is still a personal idea, something I’d love to explore more, but I think there’s real promise in placing these small reactors on old mine sites, where all the economically recoverable coal has already been extracted. For me, that feels like a meaningful way to honor the legacy of coal while stepping into a new era of energy production.
West Virginia’s not just a coal powerhouse. It’s a fossil fuel powerhouse.
As mentioned, we’ve got that population that is comfortable with and proud of being an energy producer. Yes, there’s going to be new skills that people are going to have to learn, likely less labor intensive. I think that is a way to bring folks together that’s going to secure West Virginia’s legacy while also continuing to provide affordable energy.
Have there been any meaningful improvements to the federal regulatory environment around coal? Are there still policies that frustrate people in the industry—things that outsiders might not be aware of or that make folks throw up their hands and ask, ‘Why is this still happening?
Troyan: This has been a long-standing pet peeve of my dad’s, and mine as well, the more I’ve learned about it. The key piece of federal legislation regulating surface mining is the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act of 1977. It rightly ensures that mining companies are held accountable after extraction: they can’t just pack up and leave environmental damage behind. The law requires proper remediation to prevent toxic runoff and disasters like Buffalo Creek from happening again.
But within that law, there’s a specific requirement known as “Restoration to Approximate Original Contour”—AOC for short, which can be confusing for political junkies. Put simply, it means “build the mountain back.”
That might sound reasonable in theory, but in practice, especially in a state like West Virginia, where flat, developable land is scarce, it’s counterproductive. When surface mining creates a relatively flat area that could be repurposed for industrial or economic development, federal regulations often require that land to be returned to its original, steep terrain. To me, that’s absurd.
If I had a magic wand, that’s the regulation I’d change. I’d give states and localities more flexibility and more say in whether it makes sense to restore the original contour or instead use that land to create economic opportunity. After all, part of the prep work has already been done. Why not put it to higher use?
West Virginia is seeing some diversification in the energy sector, but many towns still struggle economically, especially as younger people continue to leave the state. From a policy perspective, what are some ways to create more opportunity, particularly in more isolated areas and for people who may not be interested in coal but want to stay in West Virginia? How do you help those communities thrive and diversify, even beyond energy?
Ballengee: I think the scientific definition of that question is a softball right down the middle.
It’s the same thing that allowed Hong Kong, a rock in the middle of the ocean, to be one of the predominant economic superpowers. It applies to West Virginia. It’s the same recipe the world over: expand the space for individuals to act. When people are empowered, they improve their own lives, their families’ lives, and their communities. The ripple effects of that are what we call a thriving society.
In West Virginia, though, we inherited decades of economic and regulatory sludge. For too long, there was a belief that prosperity would flow from the marbled halls of Charleston or the generosity of the federal government. It never worked, and it’s not working now.
Our vision, what we call the “West Virginia Miracle,” rests on four pillars:
Economic freedom. For decades, West Virginia had the highest income tax rate in the mid-Atlantic, despite being one of the most isolated and economically challenged states in the region. Lowering the tax burden makes us more attractive for families and businesses alike.
Education freedom. We were among the last states to adopt charter schools, finally passing legislation in 2019, nearly 35 years after the first states did. Private school choice didn’t arrive until 2021. We’re now catching up and creating more options for families.
Workforce freedom. In 2015, we passed Right to Work, ensuring no one is forced to join or fund a union against their will. That’s a clear reflection of our founding ethos—Montani Semper Liberi, “Mountaineers are always free”—and the rugged self-reliance of our Scots Irish roots.
Layer these freedoms on top of what already makes this place special, its beauty, affordability, and sense of community, and the potential is enormous. For the past three or four years, more people have moved into West Virginia than moved out. That’s a major shift.
If West Virginia were a stock, now would be the time to buy. We’re building a foundation that could put the state on a far better trajectory over the next decade.
I have a bit of a nomadic background. My dad was an Air Force pilot, so we moved around a lot. I’ve lived abroad and in various states, and I don’t feel rooted to one place like some. There are positives and negatives to that, but I’ve come to admire places that still have strong social cohesion.
West Virginia strikes me as one of those places, especially compared to much of suburban America, where that sense of tight-knit community has eroded. Outside the obvious economic changes and political realignment, what can the rest of the country learn from West Virginia’s strong local ties and social capital?
Ballengee: There are a couple of things at play here. Historically—from the 1860s up through the 1950s—you were quite literally dependent on your neighbor for survival in West Virginia. The terrain is rugged, the winters can be harsh, and in remote areas, it wasn’t uncommon to be stranded in the middle of a blizzard with no town nearby. If your car ran off the road or your home lost heat, you relied on those around you, often family or long-time neighbors living in tight-knit clusters between steep mountains and in narrow hollows.
That kind of environment naturally builds deep community ties and a strong sense of belonging. Even our population history reflects that. The largest city in West Virginia—Charleston—peaked at around 87,000 people. Most communities have been far smaller, and that scale encourages neighborliness, inclusion, and a “we’re in this together” mindset.
But there’s another side to that coin. It can also reinforce an in-group/out-group dynamic, something you might trace back to Scots Irish clannishness. If you’re in the in-group, it can feel like a giant extended family. But for outsiders it can be much harder to break in.
That’s not an unusual story in West Virginia. My own family has been here since the 17th century. They were French Huguenots who fled religious wars, settled in England, then moved to New Jersey, and eventually migrated to Appalachia because the landscape felt familiar. Many families have been rooted here for generations, and for a lot of people, their identity as a human being is inseparable from this land and the culture that’s grown up around it.
That said, even with those strong roots, we’ve seen a serious hollowing out of civil society in recent decades. Outmigration and population loss have taken a toll. And perhaps most devastating has been the drug crisis or what I call a lost generation. I’m 37, and for people roughly 10 years younger or five years older, there’s a whole cohort that’s either been lost to overdose or rendered unemployable. That’s weakened communities, strained resources, and contributed to the closure of many churches and other institutions.
So, while there’s still a lot of social capital here, and much the rest of the country could learn from that, we’re also dealing with deep wounds. In that sense, West Virginia is both unique and, sadly, not unique at all.
Troyan: There’s a strong case to be made that the growth of the federal government, particularly through well-intentioned programs like those from the Great Society era, crowded out local community care. These efforts aimed to provide material help during hard times, but they also unintentionally replaced the more personal, relational support that once came from neighbors and churches.
It used to be Bob down the street checking in, saying, “Hey, we helped you out last month, how are you doing now?” That kind of follow-up wasn’t just about meeting needs; it created accountability, purpose, and a sense of belonging. But when Uncle Sam steps in and says, “We’ve got you,” it can signal to communities to step back.
That frays neighborly ties. It hollows out civil society. And when people are no longer needed, no longer contributing, it can lead to a loss of purpose.
That loss of purpose has fed into the drug crisis Garrett mentioned. I can tell you—I’ve lost more friends than I have fingers to addiction.
I became interested in West Virginia, initially through traditional mountain music. It’s a beautiful state with this lonesome feel, created by the topography. Is there anything in culture, whether it be film, music that you really like, that you feel depicts West Virginia fair?
Ballengee: To me, there are two that immediately stand out. From a musical perspective, everybody thinks about John Denver, right? Country Roads, Take Me Home is one of the most universally sung songs out there. It’s great. Love John Denver. Great guy. I’ll always sing along in a bar, in a football stadium, something like that.
For me, that doesn’t do a great job necessarily of capturing both the beauty and the warts of the state, or even the beauty of the state and the longing of West Virginians to see what else is out there and feel that tug to come back home. We call them boomerang kids here. That song that I think most perfectly captures that is Green Rolling Hills by Emmylou Harris.
If you look at the lyrics of that song, it really captures, more than any other, the average young West Virginians’ struggle to both see what else is out there, to see what they can achieve, but also a sense that you have a commitment and a responsibility to your community and your family as well, because we are, after all, in this together. The other one is a book, and Jessi, I’m sure, will agree with this, is “Rocket Boys,” as the memoir was called. It was later turned into a movie, “October Sky,” with Jake Gyllenhaal. It tells the story of a coal miner who grew up in Colwood, West Virginia.
Homer Hickam saw Sputnik in the ’50s, and that really ignited a sense of wonder. He started building rockets with friends. They had an awesome teacher that really mentored what they were doing. Long story short, they went all the way to the National Science Fair and won the competition. Hickam went on to become a NASA engineer.
It’s a remarkable story about how kids from nowhere—ordinary kids in rural West Virginia—can rise and compete against the very best. I think that story gives a lot of hope to West Virginians.
West Virginia needs to do a better job celebrating its heroes. When kids from rural counties visit the Capitol, many come from families where only half have two parents at home, few have relatives who pursued higher education, and some have close family members who’ve been incarcerated.
They need to see that people from backgrounds just like theirs that have gone on to become athletes, musicians, entrepreneurs, scientists, and inventors. We should be lifting those stories—not just to honor success, but to show kids what’s possible and give them something real to aspire to.
Troyan: My cultural pieces are identical. I spent several years in Northern Virginia while pursuing graduate school at George Mason University from 2011 to 2016. I wasn’t born in West Virginia—I’m originally from Indiana—but my family moved here when I was two. So, while I’m a Hoosier by birth, I’m a West Virginian by the grace of God.
Leaving after spending four years at WVU, that was the first time I’d ever really been away from West Virginia for a sustained period. I was taken by surprise by the homesickness that I felt, being out in Northern Virginia, and the stark differences, being in the DC area. Denver’s “Country Roads” was a lifeline for me at the time. You can’t talk to anyone from West Virginia without hearing a story like that—or spotting a flying WV, like the one on Garrett’s hat right now. Even if you’re traveling far from home, it instantly sparks a connection. Half the time, you just yell “Let’s go,” and someone nearby will instinctively respond, “Mountaineers!”
As for music, I’ll go with a more recent song—”Dear West Virginia” by Huey Mack. He’s a Morgantown native, and I think my college roommate went to high school with him. The song captures that same feeling Garrett talked about earlier, the love for home and the ache of having to leave.
One of the lines goes something like, “Dear West Virginia, you’ve been so good to me. I’m sorry I had to leave.” And later, “If California breaks my heart, I know you’ll take me back.” It really reflects that deep, emotional pull this place has, even when people move away, they never stop feeling connected to it.
I like that line. It says a lot.
Troyan: It’s just perfect. I think it’s in the studio version, because it’s got Brad Paisley involved with it, too. He sings on one of the lines. It’s got the WVU choir in it.
Then there’s another piece that I share with our new teammates, especially if we get folks that we’ve hired that are not West Virginia natives.
It’s kind of a random piece, and it’s called “One Shining Moment for a 2 Sided State.”
The author ties the piece to WVU’s Final Four run about 15 years ago, and I’ve never read anything else that so perfectly captures the experience of being from West Virginia, the deep desire to prove yourself to the outside world, while also not giving a rat’s behind what they think. That internal tension is real, and it’s part of what makes the West Virginia identity unique. I’ve always loved that.
And as a final note, while it’s easy to poke fun at Anthony Bourdain for spending most of his Parts Unknown episode in McDowell County, as a native you might think, “Oh, of course, that’s where he went.” But he did right by West Virginia. He approached it with honesty and respect. For anyone wanting to get a feel for the state’s soul, I’d highly recommend that episode.
