To do the right thing, you have to risk being hated . . . not that you must go out of your way to be disliked, but you do have to be willing to take that risk. This proves difficult for anyone, but especially for a politician. You see, people generally do not line up in support for people they hate. Not all politicians have advanced rocket science degrees, but they do understand the basic principle of self-preservation.
Arizona Speaker of the House Rusty Bowers
Photo from Arizona House of Representatives website
The most important thing that separates a politician from a statesman is the willingness to be disliked. My old friend House Speaker Rusty Bowers certainly found this out. Whether you agree with him, or not, when he refused to play a part in overturning the 2020 November election results in Arizona, he obviously knew that his decision would cost him. He did it anyway.
Speaker Bowers also knew that receiving the Profile in Courage Award from the John F. Kennedy Library Foundation would be the kiss of death in a Republican primary. He graciously accepted the award and then, knowing he could lose, continued on in his campaign with dignity.
You see, for a Republican, getting the Profile in Courage Award would amount to a Democrat getting a late endorsement from Donald Trump in the primary. It wouldn’t go very well . . . and it didn’t. Just ask Liz Cheney how that worked for her. It didn’t work for Rusty, either.
If you’re a Republican, the Profile in Courage Award might be a nice memento to put in a conspicuous corner of your home, but it won’t hold a prominent place in your legislative office because not too long after November you’ll have to clean it out.
Republican Kryptonite
Profile in Courage Award
Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
I think Rusty knew it would be difficult to prove fraud in the 2020 Arizona general election. Arizona’s elections don’t typically have the taint of Cooke County, Illinois, Philadelphia, or Detroit. While I saw fraud in my first Arizona senate race in 1990 (which I won by a razor-thin margin, it didn’t affect the outcome), the state doesn’t have a notorious reputation for electoral fraud.
Innocuous-looking official ballot drop box
Photo from Navajo County website
Yngvadottir, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
If fraud really occurred, it would have happened before the ballots were counted. Ballot harvesting (practically invented in San Luis, Arizona), even though essentially outlawed now, is still practiced. Unmanned ballot drop-off boxes practically scream for abuse (so can mailboxes on street corners for that matter). Since they are unmanned, however, proving that overly enthusiastic activists dumped harvested or forged ballots would be fairly difficult. Unless supporters of the post 2020 election audit knew they could prove fraud they should have never attempted the audit in the first place. Those politicians who promised proof have yet to come forward with the evidence. A hunch isn’t evidence.
Having served in the Arizona legislature with Rusty in his first go-around in the 90’s I grew to respect his judgment. He also had a wealth of knowledge on environmental and natural resource issues. I served as the Senate Environment chair, while Rusty served as chair on the House side. He has played a critical role in meeting Arizona’s water challenges and I hope he continues to stay involved.
Rep. David Farnsworth, who beat Rusty by an approximate 2-1 margin in the August primary, readily acknowledges Bowers’ expertise. Farnsworth hopes to invite him to sit on legislative panels in the near future when the legislature holds additional hearings regarding potential solutions to Arizona’s chronic water woes. Arizona House Speaker Rusty Bowers reflects on primary election loss (azcentral.com)
Rusty Bowers is a true Renaissance man. He is a painter, sculptor, humorous illustrator, musician, raconteur, man of faith and definitely a statesman. He is also a man I am proud to have known.