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Tuesday, 07 April 2026
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Written by John Hood
Who is to blame for North Carolina losing its industrial base over the past two decades? Misguided federal lawmakers who passed free-trade agreements? Foolish state policymakers who refused to invest in new infrastructure? Overzealous local regulators?
I’ve heard each of these explanations before. Perhaps you have, too. But none constitutes a valid explanation for North Carolina’s shrinking industrial base — because, contrary to popular belief, our industrial base hasn’t been shrinking!
In the latest year for which all the data are available, 2024, facilities in North Carolina produced nearly $104 billion worth of manufactured goods. Adjusted for inflation, our manufacturing output in 2004 was about $100 billion. If we broaden the scope to goods-producing industries — including not just manufacturing but agriculture, forestry, mining, and other resource extraction — North Carolina’s output in 2024 was $154 billion, up from $144 billion in 2004.
Of course, the state’s overall economy grew by far more than 7% during the period. Manufacturing made up 12% of North Carolina’s GDP in 2024, down from 21% in 2004. Goods production was 18%, down from 27%. When people claim we have “deindustrialized,” these are the statistics they cite, along with the undeniable truth that a smaller share of North Carolinians work in manufacturing and other goods production today than was true for past generations.
While these statistics are valid, the gloom-and-doom conclusions drawn from them are invalid. That manufacturers produce as much or more annual output with fewer workers indicates productivity gains, not sectoral declines. Indeed, the investment in plants, machines, hardware, software, and robotics required to be competitive in 21st-century manufacturing is pretty much the opposite of deindustrialization!
And when health care, finance, recreation, entertainment, and other services grow more rapidly than good-producing sectors, that doesn’t mean the latter are shrinking, or inadequate to supply what consumers demand.
When the vast majority of North Carolinians worked in farming, the vast majority were, by today’s standards, grindingly poor. This was no coincidence. As new techniques and devices revolutionized agriculture, producing much more food and fiber with much fewer human and natural resources, workers shifted to higher-value labor, including manufacturing. The process has continued throughout the 20th and 21st centuries, with the shift from goods to services accompanied by a rising standard of living.
I know the deindustrialization myth won’t go away anytime soon. In part, it reflects a fundamental insight from classical economics: that people often form conclusions based on what they personally witness, fail to recognize the significance of things they don’t, and then resist attempts to convince them otherwise.
In our state, factory closures have been readily apparent. Most of the furniture plants that employed my grandfather and great-grandfathers in Caldwell and Burke counties no longer exist. Neither do many factories that once produced textiles, apparel, and tobacco products. Indeed, the output of North Carolina’s non-durable manufacturing sector did shrink by 17% from 2004 to 2024.
During the same time, however, the manufacture of durable goods shot up 48%. We currently produce machine tools, appliances, buses, tractors, trucks, trains, planes, engines, and much else. These plants aren’t necessarily in the same communities where prior generations produced towels, socks, or cigarettes.
“Between a good and a bad economist this constitutes the whole difference,” wrote the French analyst Frédéric Bastiat, in that “the one takes account only of the visible effect [while] the other takes account of both the effects which are seen and those which it is necessary to foresee.”
Some accept these realities but argue that such economic changes have ruined the prospects for young men. This claim is also invalid. Women have enjoyed larger income gains than men, but most of the latter also gained. Scott Winship, a scholar at the American Enterprise Institute, estimates that median pre-tax earnings of men aged 25 to 29 rose 24% from 1973 to 2024. Their median post-tax compensation rose 40%.
I’m all for making North Carolina more hospitable to investment and industry. But let’s stick to the facts.
Editor’s Note: John Hood is a John Locke Foundation board member. His books Mountain Folk, Forest Folk, and Water Folk combine epic fantasy with American history (FolkloreCycle.com).
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Tuesday, 24 March 2026
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Written by Dan DeBruler
I recently added a new table to the WCLN studios. Nothing fancy. It’s made from rough, flawed walnut boards I picked up somewhere along the way. I left many of the imperfections untouched and finished it with raw steel hairpin legs—a quiet nod to my oldest son, an artist whose medium was metal before he passed not long ago. Seeing that table each day has caused me to think again about what craftsmanship really means to me.
Like a lot of people I know, life stays busy. My calendar would be packed with every kind of gathering if I let it. I’ve even learned not to act too surprised when I’m reminded of a birthday, anniversary, recital, or event I should have remembered—that’s become something of an art form. And as much as my wife and I can, we show up. But I’ve also learned the value of stepping away.
For me, retreat doesn’t usually mean the beach or the North Carolina mountains. More often, it’s a short walk to the workshop behind our house, with the dog tagging along.
In that quiet space, away from the noise of daily life, I make things. Sometimes it’s silent except for my thoughts; other times I turn the music up just to quiet them down. I work with different materials, but wood is my favorite. Most of what I use would be considered scraps—leftovers from other places that saw no value in them. Exotic hardwoods, common lumber, small pieces others discard. To them, it’s waste. To me, it’s treasure.
Woodworking has become more than a hobby—it’s a reflection of the life I’ve been given. I’ll take on a project now and then, but I rarely sell what I make. Selling changes something. This, for me, is about recognizing the beauty and usefulness in each piece—no matter the size—and beginning the careful work of preserving it, preparing it, and giving it a new purpose. In a word, it’s redemption.
Without the grace and redemption I found in Jesus Christ, my life would be nothing. There was a time I might have been considered a castoff, but when Jesus found me, He saw something worth shaping. Since 1981, He’s been doing just that—preserving, refining, repurposing. And even in seasons when I feel like I have little to offer, He reminds me there is still purpose. Not just for me—for every life.
It’s hard to put all of that into words when I hand someone a simple piece made from reclaimed wood. But to me, it’s never just an object. It represents time, attention, and care. Every piece carries its flaws. Every piece is one of a kind. Just like you.