Over the weekend, the Washington Post had an excellent article by David A. Fahrenthold about the many different definitions of the word “rural” used by the government to spend its $37 billion budget on rural development. He writes:

The problem is that the U.S. government has at least 15 official definitions of the word “rural,” two of which apply only to Puerto Rico and parts of Hawaii.

All of these definitions matter; they’re used by various agencies to parcel out $37 billion-plus in federal money for “rural development.” And each one is different.

In one program, for instance, “rural” is defined as any place with fewer than 50,000 residents. So Lenoir is rural, and eligible for money. But in another, only towns smaller than 2,500 residents are “rural.” So Lenoir isn’t, and isn’t.

And so on. There are 11 definitions of “rural” in use within the U.S. Department of Agriculture alone. . . .

These varying definitions have become a baroque example of redundancy and duplication in Washington. They mean extra costs for taxpayers — and extra hassle for small-town officials — as separate offices ask them the same question in up to 15 different ways. . . .

But what, exactly, is a rural area? Is there a single definition that could take in a Kansas wheat farm, a West Virginia coal town, a Vermont dairy and a Hawaii cattle ranch?

“It’s like, if I said to you, ‘Give me a definition of love,’ ” said Gary Hart, the director of the Center for Rural Health at the University of North Dakota. “You wouldn’t give me one definition. You’d give me 20.”

The list has grown in the way government duplication often does: one good intention at a time. Frequently, a new set of legislators or bureaucrats has set up a program to help rural communities, and has come up with its own definition of what “rural” ought to mean.

But nobody bothers to erase the other definitions already on the books.

Then, repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Today, the government’s official definitions of “rural” include one written in 1936: an area with fewer than 10,000 people. That one is still used to parcel out rural telecommunications grants. Another definition was written in 1949: any place with fewer than 2,500 people. It is used for housing-aid programs.

These exist alongside other, different definitions: One sets the population limit for “rural” areas at 20,000. Another, at 25,000. Another, at 50,000.

The result, for people in rural areas, is a government with multiple personalities, living in multiple realities at once.

For instance: By Washington’s strictest definition of rural — any place with fewer than 2,500 residents — there are 59 million rural Americans. By its most expansive definition — any place with less than 50,000 residents — there are about 190 million, more than three times more.

The problem, of course, is that the money spent to fund projects in rural communities for housing, community centers, sewer plants, broadband connections, or whatever, doesn’t spur economic activity. So why do these subsidies persist? Because, once again, lawmakers are captive to very motivated interest groups who are willing to spend a lot of money to maintain their government handouts. Writing about one type of rural subsidies in 2009, Steve Slivinski noted:

Rural programs are sustained not by economic logic, but by the intense lobbying of interest groups. The RUS, for instance, is supported by a lobbying group called the National Rural Electric Cooperative Association headed by a savvy former congressman. It gives more than $1 million annually in political contributions split evenly between Democrats and Republicans. The association’s more than 30,000 members are scattered in congressional districts across the nation, but they are efficiently mobilized to lobby Congress in letter-writing campaigns and visits to Washington.

Government’s capture by interest groups is the main reasons behind most subsidies, and it is certainly the reason why even inefficient and duplicative subsidies persist.

The whole story is here.