A freeze? We don’t know about a freeze. Maybe a bit of a chill. Or a frost. Or a nip in the air.
But a freeze? Surely the people of the Northwest are too warm and welcoming to freeze out newcomers. Aren’t we?
Well, maybe. But many people lately have turned into amateur meteorologists in trying to assess whether or not residents of Washington and Oregon have icy attitudes toward outsiders.
This follows a survey conducted for Pemco — a Seattle-based insurance company that serves only Washington and Oregon. The survey found that 24 percent of Northwest residents say making new friends is “extremely important” or “very important” to them. Only half the respondents said they are interested in interacting with people they do know.
Brrrr, that sounds cold. Or it might simply be a function of a society in which most of us spend more time watching cat videos on our phones than engaging with people. In which text messages are a substitute for human interaction. In which nobody has to stop and ask for directions, allowing us to remain in our own little bubbles while we drive around aimlessly — both literally and figuratively.
In that regard, the good people of Washington and Oregon are probably no different from the rest of the country. And yet, this perceived phenomenon apparently is nothing new; “The Seattle Freeze” has been a thing for years. It even has its own Wikipedia page, detailing the region’s provincialism. Who knew?
Explains Wikipedia (so you know it reflects the pinnacle of academic research): “It has been speculated that the origin of the phenomenon could stem from the reserved personalities of the city’s early Nordic and Asian immigrants. Other reasons may include the emotional effects of the climate, or the region’s history of independent-minded pioneers.”
As far as anybody can tell, The Seattle Times first used the phrase “Seattle Freeze” in 2005. But as early as 1946 the newspaper wrote: “It was revealed what we had indeed suspected — that newcomers do not always find us altogether perfect; that we sometimes are neglectful of the stranger in our midst; that we seem unduly preoccupied with our own local concerns.”
The rest of us might be quick to dismiss any notion that The Seattle Freeze extends beyond, say, the local concerns of the SoDo District. But a bit of self-reflection reveals that it might apply to all of us.
In 1971, for example, Oregon Gov. Tom McCall trumpeted his state as a haven for tourists by saying: “I urge them to come and come many, many times to enjoy the beauty of Oregon. But I also ask them, for heaven’s sake, don’t move here to live.” McCall (who was born in Massachusetts) made “come visit, don’t stay” his mantra, but he was merely articulating the ethos of the region rather than establishing it.
After all, Northwest brewer Blitz Weinhard for years humorously used the locals’ enmity for outsiders in order to sell beer. And the people here long have feared the Californication of the region, probably since the time Esther Short ran The Alta House. And the original Oregon constitution made it the only state to actively forbid black people from moving into the region, professing right from the start the locals’ dislike of “others.”
All of that might translate into a cold shoulder or two these days. But, as columnist Ron Judd wrote for The Seattle Times in 2015: “We really couldn’t care less what non-natives think about us.”
Which probably is the most important thing about The Seattle Freeze or whatever we want to call it. Those who grew up in this area or have lived here for decades believe we landed in a little spot of heaven through some act of providence, and we are protective of it. We like beer and we like coffee and we like big trees. We even have learned to live with the rain — to the point of steadfastly refusing to use umbrellas.
With all of that, the people of the Northwest probably are no more provincial than those in other parts of the country. Even if it can seem a bit chilly sometimes.
