New Jersey: An Emptiness Of Its Own Making?

It was Benjamin Franklin who famously described New Jersey as "a barrel open at both ends" -- those "ends" of course being New York and Philadelphia.

But where does that leave New Jersey? Are we a mere conduit -- a place where people come and go or, worse yet, simply pass through and nothing more? 

You have to wonder -- especially now.

Because New Jersey, this densely packed strand of exquisite contradictions that we call home has now elected its third non–native-born governor in just two decades. Jon Corzine came to us from Illinois (via Manhattan) with a Goldman-sized bankroll and a droll demeanor. Phil Murphy, dropped in from Massachusetts with a grin, a résumé, and a villa in Italy. And now Mikie Sherrill boastfully helicoptered in from Virginia with a Valley Girl cadence and absolutely not someone who grew up pumping gas off Route 22.

What’s going on here? What's wrong with New Jersey's voters? Why does one of the most populous, diverse, economically muscular, culturally explosive states in the country seem incapable of electing one of its own? 

I’ll tell you why: New Jersey has an inferiority complex the size of the Hindenburg blimp (and we all know how that ended).

For decades, New Jersey has been wedged between New York swagger and Philadelphia melodrama—the middle child forced to sit in the back seat while the two louder siblings argue over cheesesteaks and bagels. And in classic middle-child fashion, Jersey has internalized it. Hard.

It seems New Jersey simply doesn’t know who it is. Is it the gritty, blue-collar cradle of Springsteen, Sinatra, and the Sopranos? Is it the gleaming biotech-and-finance powerhouse that quietly fuels the northeast economy? Or is it, as too many late-night comedians insist, just the place where dreams go to sit in traffic and yell at someone?

The result: a chronic identity crisis. A statewide shrug. A belief that if you really want someone “leader-quality,” you’d better import them—preferably bearing Ivy League degrees and the ability to say “New Jersey” without sounding like they’re apologizing.

Too many New Jerseyans have come to believe their state is a punchline. Apparently, they assume people born here are too… Joizee. Too blunt. Too loud. Too suburban. Too diner-addicted. Too unapologetically real. 

So when the time comes to pick a governor, voters suddenly act like they need an outsider to “fix” things—someone untainted by Parkway rage or a childhood spent waiting for that dreamed of escape to somewhere else.

But let’s be real. As recently defeated, homegrown gubernatorial candidate Jack Ciattarelli would say: "What other state does this?" Only New Jersey looks at its vast supply of brilliant, diverse, ambitious residents and says, “Hmm. No thanks. Let’s see who’s parachuting in from out of state this season.”

It’s not because the state lacks talent. This is the home of scientists, CEOs, novelists, artists, entrepreneurs, medical researchers, and roughly seven million people who would gladly run the state better than half the legislatures in America—if they weren’t stuck on a Zoom call or caught in traffic near Exit 8A.

No, this is deeper. It’s cultural. And I'm beginning to think it's pathological. Which means it's . . . . JERSEY!

New Jersey voters are so used to outsiders mocking their state—its smells, its highways, its sports teams, its “characters”—that they’ve internalized the belief that only someone from elsewhere can possibly be respectable enough to run the place. How sad. And tragic, really. Because beneath all the self-deprecation, New Jersey is a national powerhouse wearing a “kick me” sign it forgot to take off in 1987.

I want to say to my fellow Jerseyans "Enough! Stop it! Basta! Stop outsourcing your governors and start believing in your own." But I doubt it would do any good. Because too many of us seem to prefer wallowing in our own angst.

Nonetheless, I'll pitch this plea: the next time someone from North Carolina or Oregon decides they’d like to lead the Garden State, maybe try saying what real New Jerseyans have always been good at saying: “No thanks. Go back where you came from.” And then elect someone from Edison, Paterson, Camden, Hoboken, Cherry Hill, Newark, or any of the dozens of places that built America while other states were busy bragging.

Because until New Jersey believes in itself, it’ll keep losing -- importing its leaders, and exporting its confidence.