Cole Wist, the former assistant minority leader of the Colorado House, publically left the Republican Party this week disgusted by: “Election lies, vaccine misinformation, making it harder to vote, excusing Jan. 6 thuggery, conspiracy theories galore.” I, too, have left the party at times when I could not stomach the actions of some within the tribe. Here is why I remain today.
Thirty years ago I became a Republican. The evolution from liberal Democrat to Republican didn’t happen overnight; it was the result of months of questioning core beliefs prompted by a single question.
It was an overcast day sometime in 1991, the sight of East High School’s splendid clock tower looming against a bruised sky to my right. I was headed to a dead-end retail job held after I dropped out of college ostensibly to become a writer. (Funny, I should remember such details when I can’t often recall where I park my car.)
A liberal of the A.O.C variety, I never wasted a chance to enlighten the uninformed about how the government should do more to help the poor. That morning I asked myself what I was doing to help the poor. Nothing, I was outsourcing my compassion.
Seeing at once the gap between my words and deeds produced a powerful cognitive dissonance that itched like a splinter in the mind that only change could relieve. I moved back home, started volunteering, graduated from college, became a Republican, and set out in 1996 for Washington DC to work on Capitol Hill to change the world.
My naive enthusiasm soured over time to deep cynicism. In 2003 I quit the party after congressional leaders held a vote open for three hours to pass a bill to increase government spending compromising both procedure and principle for political expediency. I wanted nothing to do with the party or its politicians. When asked to brief a congressman — I worked at a reform think tank — I’d balk, paraphrasing Monty Python to mark my contempt “…letap not go to Camelot. Tis a silly place”.
Back in Colorado a year later, I returned to the party buoyed by the prospect of making a difference locally. I was a precinct leader when Trump became the nominee and I left the party again, cynicism finally extinguishing the last breath of youthful naïveté.
Disillusionment is good for the soul for only when illusions are stripped away can we see clearly.
I returned to the GOP during the Kavanaugh hearings disgusted by protesters clawing the doors of the Supreme Court and self-interested politicians scrutinizing a judge’s calendar from high school. As an unaffiliated voter, a party of one, I felt powerless in the face of this embarrassing spectacle. I could only push back if I did so with others.
Unlike pristine ideals, large groups of people are messy — full of good ideas and abject idiocy, courage and cowardice, selfishness and goodness, grievance and grace. Though far from perfect, the GOP is the only bulwark against cancel culture, the push to defund the police, Critical Race Theory, COVID shutdowns, new government entitlements, higher taxes, urban camping, attacks on First and Second Amendment rights, and other ruinous policies. Moderate Democrats cannot control the leftwing within their own party, only the presence of Republicans can do that.
Likewise, moderate Republicans cannot control the Trump follower-conspiracy theorist-anti-vax populists within our ranks; we can only hope to outweigh their influence.
That means working within the party to place thoughtful men and women on the ballot, supporting courageous and honorable elected officials, and speaking out, even if it makes you as popular as Cassandra of ancient Troy.
During a storm, itap better to try and right a ship of fools than to set out in a dinghy.
Krista L. Kafer is a weekly Denver Post columnist. Follow her on Twitter: @kristakafer
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