Ep 84 - Back Porch Files: Colorado's Republican Circus

Jun 12
4 min read

There was a time when Republicans liked to describe themselves as the adults in the room. They were supposedly the party of responsibility, fiscal discipline, seriousness, and competent management. Whether you agreed with their policies or not, there was at least an argument that governing was their central focus. Looking at the current Republican primary for governor in Colorado, that argument has become increasingly difficult to make.

When a governor's race starts looking more like a sideshow, it's time to ask what happened to the party that claimed to be the adults in the room.

The problem is not that conservatives and liberals disagree. That's normal. The problem is not that candidates have unconventional backgrounds. Politics has always attracted colorful personalities. The problem is that what would once have been viewed as disqualifying oddities, fringe ideas, or poor judgment are increasingly treated as routine features of modern Republican politics.

Consider the issues dominating portions of the Colorado GOP primary conversation. One candidate was asked whether a man known for antisemitic rhetoric could serve in his administration and failed to provide the kind of immediate, unequivocal rejection most voters would expect. Another built part of her political identity around a movement to carve off a section of Colorado and create an entirely new state. A third has made public claims involving exorcisms, international rescue missions, and generated headlines over questions about how many people he has killed. None of these are the sorts of topics voters typically associate with managing a state government.

That is what makes this race so revealing. The issue is not whether these candidates are conservative enough, liberal enough, or moderate enough. The issue is whether the qualities being rewarded have anything to do with governing. Governors oversee budgets, transportation systems, public health agencies, emergency management operations, schools, prisons, and countless other institutions that affect daily life. They are chief executives, not culture-war influencers.

Increasingly, however, the modern Republican Party appears more interested in performance than administration. Candidates are rewarded for generating outrage, attracting attention, and portraying themselves as combatants in an endless political struggle. The ability to create headlines often seems more valuable than the ability to explain how one would manage a state budget or improve public services.

This trend extends far beyond Colorado. Across the country, parts of the Republican Party have embraced a style of politics built around grievance, spectacle, and permanent conflict. Every disagreement becomes a betrayal. Every criticism becomes proof of persecution. Every election loss becomes evidence that the system itself is somehow broken. In that environment, the loudest voices often crowd out the most qualified ones.

The secession movement associated with northeastern Colorado offers a useful example. Democracy inevitably produces outcomes that disappoint one side or another. The traditional response is persuasion. Build a larger coalition. Refine your message. Convince more voters. Yet a growing strain of political thinking prefers a different approach. If voters reject your ideas, perhaps the problem is not the ideas. Perhaps the problem is the voters, the districts, the demographics, or the boundaries themselves.

That mindset reflects something deeper than a disagreement over policy. It reflects a growing discomfort with the basic realities of democratic politics. Winning and losing are both part of the process. A healthy political movement adapts when circumstances change. An unhealthy one searches for ways to avoid confronting those changes altogether.

The Victor Marx candidacy highlights a different but equally troubling development. Modern politics increasingly rewards mythology. Candidates are encouraged to present themselves as warriors, saviors, truth-tellers, and larger-than-life figures. Personal narratives become more important than governing philosophies. Dramatic stories generate attention, while discussions of administrative competence often do not. Yet governing is ultimately an exercise in management, not mythology. Roads are not repaired through personal legend. Schools are not improved through dramatic storytelling. Public institutions require expertise, patience, and competence.

The Scott Bottoms controversy points toward another concern: the gradual erosion of political boundaries. In previous eras, public officials often worked hard to distance themselves from rhetoric viewed as hateful, conspiratorial, or extreme. Today, there is often greater concern about offending the people making those statements than about the statements themselves. Over time, that normalization shifts expectations. What once seemed shocking begins to feel ordinary.

That may be the most important lesson from Colorado. None of these candidates alone explains what has happened to the Republican Party. Together, however, they provide a snapshot of a broader transformation. The party that once emphasized management, discipline, and governing increasingly rewards confrontation, spectacle, and identity-based performance. The incentives have changed, and the candidates reflect those incentives.

Colorado's Republican primary is not merely a state political story. It is a window into a larger national phenomenon. The question is no longer whether unusual candidates occasionally emerge. They always have. The question is why so many of them now find fertile ground inside one of America's two major political parties.

For voters, the stakes are larger than any single election. Political parties eventually become what they reward. If competence is rewarded, more competent candidates emerge. If seriousness is rewarded, more serious candidates emerge. But if spectacle becomes the primary qualification, then spectacle becomes the product. The Colorado race suggests that, at least in some corners of today's GOP, spectacle is becoming the point rather than a side effect.

That is why this story matters. Not because the candidates are unusual. Not because they are easy to mock. But because they force us to confront a more important question: when did governing stop being enough?