Opinion by Lyz Lenz
Oct. 26, 2020 at 7:00 a.m. CDT
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Lyz Lenz is a journalist and the author of “God Land: A Story of Faith, Loss, and Renewal in Middle America.”
After Iowa Republicans rejected incumbent U.S. congressman and notorious racist Steve King in last June’s primary, GOP consultant David Kochel told me he was breaking out the booze. A fellow Republican operative tweeted a video of Kochel squirting something from a flask into his mouth with the comment, “King Slayer @ddkochel drinks blood after the kill.”
Kochel himself appended several clapping emojis to a Democrat’s tweet that said, “Steve King continues to honor the Confederacy by getting just destroyed on his home turf.”
Iowa Republicans were celebrating. Forget that Kochel used to donate to King. Forget that, just months earlier, two GOP rivals for another congressional seat, Bobby Schilling and Mariannette Miller-Meeks, shared a stage with neo-Nazi Nick Fuentes. And never mind that Fuentes was there by an invitation from a Schilling staffer.
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No, they said, they were a new party now.
But the truth is, Iowa Republicans are changing only because the party stands on the verge of losing its current chokehold on the state. Republicans turned against King not because of his racism, which they tend not to comment on, but because he wasn’t an effective congressman.
Their change of tone is indicative of how desperately Republicans are trying to pivot in case Democratic nominee Joe Biden wins the presidency and/or Democrats take back the Senate.
Iowa has been a purple state for decades. The governorship keeps flopping blue (Tom Vilsack and Chet Culver) to red (Terry Branstad and Kim Reynolds). Iowa loves to take credit for Barack Obama’s rise. It was the third state in the nation to legalize gay marriage and was the first to desegregate public schools. Under Republican Gov. Robert Ray, the state opened up to refugees and immigrants. Even Sen. Charles E. Grassley, now an avowed yes man for President Trump, fought President Ronald Reagan on military spending. But Trump won the state in 2016. That election also gave control of both houses of the state legislature to the GOP.
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This year, true to its purplish nature, Iowa is polling within the margin of error on almost all federal races, including the presidency and three congressional seats. Even Republican Sen. Joni Ernst, who famously won her seat after bragging she would cut pork in Washington like she’d castrated pigs on a farm, is barely holding on.
So, she, too, is making a pivot. Back in 2014, her Senate campaign sent out a mailer showing her in a black leather jacket, aiming a handgun straight at the camera. It said: “Joni Ernst Set Sights on Obamacare.” Today, Ernst’s imaging has changed. Her hair is longer, the camera angle softer. In one mailer, she’s smiling, no guns. “Joni Ernst puts the care in health care,” it says. It doesn’t mention that she has consistently supported Republican efforts to overturn the Affordable Care Act.
In Iowa’s 1st Congressional District, another Republican is leaning in hard on her image as a churchgoing wife and mother. State Rep. Ashley Hinson is running some talking points that contain racist dog whistles, including one, about going on a police ride-along, that uses a person’s immigration status to signal support for the police. But for the most part, the tone of her talking points about herself are gentle. Rarely does she mention her support of a bill that gutted Planned Parenthood in the state, or another that banned abortion after the sixth week of pregnancy. Instead, in one ad, she plays “Amazing Grace” on the violin.
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In the 2020 Republican message, it’s the Democrats who are the extremists. That’s like the pot calling the kettle antifa — and it’s not a convincing argument. As I like to say, Iowa Democrats are like Texas Democrats — they’re Republicans who don’t want you to die.
It’s important to note that none of the Republicans in these races are criticizing Trump. While they don’t always defend him, they aren’t dismissing him, and they often point out that they can work across the aisle. Their shift is more about the efficacy of the messaging than a change of political heart. The plan is still the same — just a little less hardcore.
It’s different — and less exciting — messaging than the pivots of Republican Sens. John Cornyn (Tex.) and Ben Sasse (Neb.), who have publicly criticized the president. Or Mitt Romney (Utah), who has said he will not vote for Trump.
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What’s happening in Iowa is an experiment in optics: Can Republicans make Trumpism more palatable if it has a more feminine hairdo, plays the violin, puts down the gun and smiles? Ernst’s race against political newcomer Theresa Greenfield is seen as a bellwether for the Trump campaign in Iowa; the Cook Political Report says that, at this point, it’s a toss-up. Only the election will tell us for sure, but if the Republicans can make it work in Iowa, it can work anywhere.
Oct. 26, 2020 at 7:00 a.m. CDT
Add to list
Lyz Lenz is a journalist and the author of “God Land: A Story of Faith, Loss, and Renewal in Middle America.”
After Iowa Republicans rejected incumbent U.S. congressman and notorious racist Steve King in last June’s primary, GOP consultant David Kochel told me he was breaking out the booze. A fellow Republican operative tweeted a video of Kochel squirting something from a flask into his mouth with the comment, “King Slayer @ddkochel drinks blood after the kill.”
Kochel himself appended several clapping emojis to a Democrat’s tweet that said, “Steve King continues to honor the Confederacy by getting just destroyed on his home turf.”
Iowa Republicans were celebrating. Forget that Kochel used to donate to King. Forget that, just months earlier, two GOP rivals for another congressional seat, Bobby Schilling and Mariannette Miller-Meeks, shared a stage with neo-Nazi Nick Fuentes. And never mind that Fuentes was there by an invitation from a Schilling staffer.
AD
ADVERTISING
No, they said, they were a new party now.
But the truth is, Iowa Republicans are changing only because the party stands on the verge of losing its current chokehold on the state. Republicans turned against King not because of his racism, which they tend not to comment on, but because he wasn’t an effective congressman.
Their change of tone is indicative of how desperately Republicans are trying to pivot in case Democratic nominee Joe Biden wins the presidency and/or Democrats take back the Senate.
Iowa has been a purple state for decades. The governorship keeps flopping blue (Tom Vilsack and Chet Culver) to red (Terry Branstad and Kim Reynolds). Iowa loves to take credit for Barack Obama’s rise. It was the third state in the nation to legalize gay marriage and was the first to desegregate public schools. Under Republican Gov. Robert Ray, the state opened up to refugees and immigrants. Even Sen. Charles E. Grassley, now an avowed yes man for President Trump, fought President Ronald Reagan on military spending. But Trump won the state in 2016. That election also gave control of both houses of the state legislature to the GOP.
AD
This year, true to its purplish nature, Iowa is polling within the margin of error on almost all federal races, including the presidency and three congressional seats. Even Republican Sen. Joni Ernst, who famously won her seat after bragging she would cut pork in Washington like she’d castrated pigs on a farm, is barely holding on.
So, she, too, is making a pivot. Back in 2014, her Senate campaign sent out a mailer showing her in a black leather jacket, aiming a handgun straight at the camera. It said: “Joni Ernst Set Sights on Obamacare.” Today, Ernst’s imaging has changed. Her hair is longer, the camera angle softer. In one mailer, she’s smiling, no guns. “Joni Ernst puts the care in health care,” it says. It doesn’t mention that she has consistently supported Republican efforts to overturn the Affordable Care Act.
In Iowa’s 1st Congressional District, another Republican is leaning in hard on her image as a churchgoing wife and mother. State Rep. Ashley Hinson is running some talking points that contain racist dog whistles, including one, about going on a police ride-along, that uses a person’s immigration status to signal support for the police. But for the most part, the tone of her talking points about herself are gentle. Rarely does she mention her support of a bill that gutted Planned Parenthood in the state, or another that banned abortion after the sixth week of pregnancy. Instead, in one ad, she plays “Amazing Grace” on the violin.
AD
In the 2020 Republican message, it’s the Democrats who are the extremists. That’s like the pot calling the kettle antifa — and it’s not a convincing argument. As I like to say, Iowa Democrats are like Texas Democrats — they’re Republicans who don’t want you to die.
It’s important to note that none of the Republicans in these races are criticizing Trump. While they don’t always defend him, they aren’t dismissing him, and they often point out that they can work across the aisle. Their shift is more about the efficacy of the messaging than a change of political heart. The plan is still the same — just a little less hardcore.
It’s different — and less exciting — messaging than the pivots of Republican Sens. John Cornyn (Tex.) and Ben Sasse (Neb.), who have publicly criticized the president. Or Mitt Romney (Utah), who has said he will not vote for Trump.
AD
What’s happening in Iowa is an experiment in optics: Can Republicans make Trumpism more palatable if it has a more feminine hairdo, plays the violin, puts down the gun and smiles? Ernst’s race against political newcomer Theresa Greenfield is seen as a bellwether for the Trump campaign in Iowa; the Cook Political Report says that, at this point, it’s a toss-up. Only the election will tell us for sure, but if the Republicans can make it work in Iowa, it can work anywhere.
