Bass Pro Shops vs. Patagonia: Choosing a side in the camping store divide

There's nothing particularly political about camping. People across the ideological spectrum enjoy overnighting under the stars.

But buying camping gear is a whole different story. Before you pitch your tent, you have to declare where you pitch your tent.

Nowhere is this divide more pronounced than in the rivalry between retail behemoths Bass Pro Shops and Patagonia.

Bass Pro Shops appeals to a consumer who views the wilderness as a place to hunt, fish, and uphold traditional values. Patagonia markets to people who see the outdoors as something fragile, something that needs protection from climate change and corporate greed.

Stroll into a Bass Pro Shops location, and you’re greeted with a rustic, log-cabin feel, stuffed bears, shotguns and rifles, and camo gear lining the shelves, soundtracked by the giant waterfall in the middle of the store.

Head over to Patagonia, and you’re met with minimalist designs, organic cotton, and racks that practically hum with environmental consciousness, under the tip-tap electronica designed to make the customer feel cool.

Both sell adventure, but they represent two radically different ideas of what the great outdoors and America really mean.

Guns or Gaia

Bass Pro Shops doesn’t just sell fishing rods and binoculars — it sells a glimpse of Americana steeped in tradition. Founded in 1972, the brand champions a rural ethos where hunting, gun rights, and personal responsibility hold sway. With deep ties to the NRA and Ducks Unlimited, Bass Pro is more than a retailer — it’s a cultural hub for conservative America, where gun ranges and family-oriented outreach embolden patriotism and self-reliance.

Patagonia, founded one year later in 1973, occupies the opposite end of the spectrum. Its identity is rooted in activism, environmentalism, and anti-consumerism. Patagonia isn’t just a clothing brand; it’s a social movement. From suing the Trump administration over public lands to promoting sustainable practices like its “Worn Wear” program, Patagonia’s mission is to challenge the status quo. Here, every purchase feels like an act of environmental justice, not just a transaction; hence the bloated price tags.

Where Bass Pro celebrates frontier independence, Patagonia speaks to urban environmentalists. One sells rifles; the other urges Congress to take “immediate action” on gun control.

Hoodie activism

Retail companies overall have become social agitators.

Wearing a brand’s gear has always been a highly expressive act, an infusion of political symbolism that has overtaken society the past 200 years but that stretches back to tribal war paint.

Nowadays, any logo or slogan is far more than a fashion statement. It is a political declaration.

Sporting a Patagonia jacket tells the world you care about climate change and social justice. Slipping into a Bass Pro hoodie signals you’re a fan of gun rights and personal freedom.

Logos used to be the fingerprints of design. Now they’re the knuckles of a closed fist. And as outdoor retail continues to grow, brands like Patagonia and Bass Pro Shops will feel even more pressure to align with political and cultural movements.

In an era when every purchase is seen as a vote, companies can no longer promise customer satisfaction.

Giving away the store

Ultimately, what we have is a crisis of authority. Most Americans have lost faith in the traditional institutions but still care about social and political issues and believe that they need to be addressed. Big business, like the state, is just a bad substitution for this need.

As Vivek Ramaswamy points out in "Woke, Inc.," “corporate political allegiance” is little more than a marketing ploy that manipulates democracy and capitalism in tandem.

Vivek’s solution is to rebuild a deep, unifying American identity rooted in excellence. He sees capitalism and democracy as the mother and father of America, where capitalism can save the American dream and democracy can achieve E pluribus unum.

Americans are searching for something more profound than a brand. We’re stung by our profound need for roots: family, community, faith — something real and local.

Meanwhile this twilight of authority has led to outbreaks of naked power, where the warlords inundate the socio-cultural institutions with hedonism and radical “equality.”

And we are left more isolated than ever in this cultural moment, this era of anxiety, infected with moral and spiritual estrangement. Hence the desire to go camping.

Bringing it home

But there is a solution to the political turmoil engulfing outdoor retail and everything it symbolizes.

Civilizations thrive when the family unit is strong. "In societies where the family tie is fundamental, the power of the government stops literally at the threshold of the house," writes sociologist Robert Nisbet.

Authority is constructed from the ground up by each family, each individual, not imposed through a state of exception.

Outdoor retail has turned into a microcosm of America’s broader polarization. Bass Pro Shops appeals to a consumer who views the wilderness as a place to hunt, fish, and uphold traditional values. Patagonia markets to people who see the outdoors as something fragile, something that needs protection from climate change and corporate greed.

Both brands are thriving because they’ve doubled down on their identities. They’ve realized that in 2024, you can’t be neutral any more. Nonpartisanship has become the exception, not the rule.

As corporations increasingly play the role of political actors, the real task will lie in rebuilding the foundations that have been eroded. So for now we pick a side, the retailer that speaks in our voice.

All we wanted was a sleeping bag.