North Carolina’s motto is a Latin phrase: Esse quam videri. Popularized by the ancient Roman statesman and philosopher Marcus Tullius Cicero, who likely first read the Greek version from Plato and Aeschylus, the phrase means “to be rather than to seem.”
The General Assembly adopted it as our official state motto in 1893. Ever since then, North Carolinians have disputed whether we’ve ever really lived up to it, that we have truly been rather than just seemed.
Guess what? That makes North Carolina just like every other country, state, city, or club that espouses high ideals and then argues about them.
What sets our state apart politically isn’t a motto, or arguments about a motto, or even the specific issues our state and local leaders are currently trying to tackle. What truly makes North Carolina distinctive are several longstanding practices — some formal rules, others informal traditions — that shape our public policy debates.
One of them is how our state constitution apportions the coercive power of government. All states have legislative, executive, and judicial branches. But North Carolina’s legislative branch is one of the strongest in the country. It possesses fully the power to make laws and policies in our state. When executive officers or agencies issue rules and make decisions, they do so in most cases only because the legislature has specifically granted them the power to do so. That means lawmakers can also take it back.
Correspondingly, our executive branch is one of the weakest, its responsibilities distributed across 10 independently elected officers and our governor enjoying comparatively limited powers of appointment and veto. Unlike other states, North Carolina gives its governors no formal control over our public institutions of higher education. That power is specifically awarded to the General Assembly, like it or not.
All states also apportion power between localities and a central government. In North Carolina, however, localities don’t have home rule. They are legislative creations and have only the powers delegated to them by the General Assembly, which the latter is free to revise.
Here’s a second distinguishing characteristic, related to the first but extending beyond our constitutional structure: North Carolina governs and funds roads and schools primarily at the state level, not the local level.
Most states have county (or parish) road systems. We don’t. Even our city streets are technically state roads administered by localities. As for K-12 education, while we have elected school boards with the power to hire district superintendents and make some policy choices, the most important actors are the General Assembly and the State Board of Education.
So when you read that North Carolina has one of the highest gas taxes in the United States, that’s just another way of saying our county taxes are relatively low (because they don’t fund county roads). And on a per-pupil basis, our state spends more than twice as much on schools as counties do. Nationally, the two funding sources tend to be roughly comparable.
A third policy difference between North Carolina and most other states involves public finance. For nearly a century, it has been our common practice to borrow relatively little and pay for public assets with cash. According to the latest Facts & Figures report from the Tax Foundation, North Carolina ranks 48th in state and local debt, at $4,314 per person.
Only Idaho ($1,915) and Wyoming ($3,913) have lower debt burdens than we do. Neighboring Tennessee ($6,312), South Carolina ($7,254), and Virginia ($9,236) borrow quite a bit more, although none is quite in the league of a California ($14,273) or New York ($17,846).
Now, you and I might argue about whether North Carolina ought to strengthen the hand of the governor, or give localities more responsibility for roads and schools, or finance more infrastructure with debt. Still, productive argument requires some common definitions and at least some shared understanding of the facts.
Our state doesn’t just appear to be distinctive. It really is. Esse quam videri, indeed.

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).