In Sioux Center, an abiding faith and focus on farming

by Dante Chinni | The Christian Science Monitor

SIOUX CENTER, IOWA - Alongside the Missouri River, northwestern Iowa unfolds as a landscape of flat farmland - barns, silos, and hay bales - punctuated by the occasional rural burg. Sioux Center is the place where US Highway 75 briefly becomes Main Street and farms give way to a small collection of buildings that make up the heart of this growing community of 6,700.

There isn't much question about the main industry here: Agriculture rules. The grain elevator from the Farmers Cooperative Society dominates the downtown, looming over the Centre Mall and the Chamber of Commerce building. On some afternoons, the smell of manure can be hard to ignore. The farming here generally entails raising livestock, some of which is then sold at the Tri-State Livestock Auction House on the north end of town.

Like many locales in Tractor Country, morning here finds farmers sitting around a table at the local cafe discussing crops and commodity prices, while their wives sit at a different table chatting about anything else.

But it would be wrong to categorize Sioux Center as just a land of pork bellies and corn bushels. In the past 20 or so years, farming has gone more high tech.

Energy issues draw attention
Energy policy, too, has become part of the town's dialogue, as farmers debate the pros and cons of ethanol subsides.

"The grain farmers here love the energy bill and subsidies for biofuels," says John Hansen, the Farmers Coop grain manager.

But not everyone is pleased with the bill's mandates for more ethanol production. Those mandates have fueled an increase in the price of corn, which is used to feed livestock of the cattle and hog farmers here. "Half my people sell corn, and half my people buy corn. The livestock farmers don't mind some breaks for corn, but they think the energy bill went too far."

In 2006, corn was a little more than $2 a bushel. By December 2007, it was selling at $3.60.

Biogenetics, too, has become a key subject in Sioux Center. Two companies in town are involved in cloning and gene splicing in crops and livestock.

"We didn't invent cloning, but it's something our clients can use," says Chad Feenstra, CFO at Sioux Center's Trans Ova Genetics. Some clients use it to create superior breeding stock. Besides corn prices and ethanol, a big issue for his clients, he says, is the US Department of Agriculture's lenient position on cloned beef in the marketplace.

Despite the emphasis on agriculture, other issues inform voting habits here. Sioux Center considers itself to be a close-knit, conservative, and Christian community. Most people here will say that as important as agriculture is, values trump everything else.

Sioux Center is the kind of place where everybody knows everybody and keeps an eye on one another - many keep their doors unlocked at night. It may not be locked in the past like a 21st-century Mayberry, but some aspects of "modern" American life don't register here.

Residents laugh at the notion of "bowling alone," the phrase coined by Robert Putnam to describe the disintegration of community in America. People may want to bowl alone, but it probably won't happen in Sioux Center.

"People around here are interested in maintaining certain traditions," says Mark Sybesma, a Sioux County supervisor. "There is a certain cynicism about government, especially the federal government. The further you get away from here, the more distrust there is."

In Sioux Center, such respect for tradition goes hand in hand with its focus on values. The candidates' positions on social issues, including abortion and gay marriage, are likely to be crucial in shaping voters' decisions in the 2008 race.

Religion infuses the community's culture. The Dutch Reformed Church has deep roots here, and Dordt College, a private school in Sioux Center, comes from the same religious tradition.

"Politics here are about people's core beliefs and people here are more clear about their core beliefs," says Nick Lantinga, an adjunct professor at Dordt and executive director for the International Association for the Promotion of Christian Higher Education. "People here are more confident in what they believe and feel more confident sharing it."

Tractor Country: fertile GOP ground
No Democrat would ever hope to win Sioux Center or Sioux County. Sherri Lantinga, dean of Dordt's social science department and Nick's wife, jokes about the 35 Democrats in the county - most of whom work for the college, she says.

Sioux County went overwhelmingly Republican in 2004, with more than 80 percent casting ballots for George W. Bush. It was the same story in rural communities across America, which gave about 60 percent of their votes to President Bush. Voter turnout can play a decisive role in these locales. Bush won Iowa by less than 1 percent in 2004 thanks to a big Republican vote here and in the northwest part of the state.

Just how conservative is Sioux Center? Consider what a supporter of presidential candidate Barack Obama said here when trying to win over voters at a public forum: "Even though he's not pro-life, he's worked to decrease the number of abortions," said Kim Van Es.

While most residents oppose abortion, they don't fall in lock step with all the stereotypes of values voters. They hold some of the Dutch Reform Church's concerns about social justice, says Mr. Lantinga. "There are great concerns here about race relations and about capital punishment," he says. In fact, Lantinga says, the county Republican Party recently had a pitched battle over its stance on the death penalty - though it ultimately came down in favor of it.

A sleeper issue here in the 2008 campaign may be illegal immigration.

Part of the problem stems from an employee shortage - the city's unemployment rate is about 2 percent, according to City Manager Paul Clousing. Like other rural communities, Sioux Center finds it tough to hang onto its young people, who leave for college and then move to a bigger city.

Illegal immigrants are often filling these slots. Even so, the streets here aren't filled with Hispanic faces. They tend to be in the back rooms washing dishes and doing other work in the kitchen, says Mr. Sybesma, the county supervisor. One or two Spanish-language street signs can be spotted, signaling a grocery store or a church. Sybesma notes that half the population in the county's jail is Hispanic.

There's no easy answer or consensus on what to do, he says. Some residents would like to see illegal immigrants deported, while others say the community needs the workers.

Because it's unlikely to be resolved anytime soon, this country town, which is 90 percent white, may be one place where candidates' positions on illegal immigration matter to voters.