How do you get rid of party leaders who won’t conform? The quickest path is to declare them no longer voters in Idaho.
But that isn’t easy, because it’s not about where you sleep, if you travel, or what kind of real estate you own. Idaho voter residency looks to “history and long-term intent to remain.” The Constitution and Legislature assign this judgment to county clerks, supervised by the secretary of state.
It’s a different question from “do they spend enough time in Idaho?” A legitimate concern, one that the Constitution lets private organizations decide for themselves. Parties exercise that right every time the position comes up for election under their bylaws.
But, if the county clerk decides the party leader is an Idaho voter, and you are impatient, what can you do? In truth, very little. The party could look for evidence to change the county clerk’s mind. Investigating a fellow party member is a sensitive proceeding, requiring fair and equal treatment (just in case, heaven forbid, someone turns that spotlight on you).
So rules for investigation are, as a nationally ranked parliamentarian put it, “not merely a suggestion.”
Which is why, on July 29, when the Idaho Republican Party went to fill the vacant national committeeman position, I offered a motion to protect the party’s integrity. It requested that:
The results of today’s election be announced only when accompanied by the statement that “this election filled a vacancy created by the voluntary resignation of the previous National Committeeman. The Judicial Oversight group of the Idaho Republican Party audited the actions of the Party and its officers leading up to this election and found them fair and consistent with law and Party rules.”
At first there was objection: “The judicial group has done no such thing!” Of course, that was the point.
A parliamentary motion to limit debate passed and I was given one minute, which I didn’t need. “The media questions our integrity,” I said. “We either ignore them or prove them wrong. Please vote to prove them wrong.”
By overwhelming vote my motion was “indefinitely postponed,” which is the parliamentary way of saying “we never should have considered this.”
Why the reluctance to erase doubts? Curious. I pulled out my party rules and Roberts Rules of Order (the party’s handbook of procedure) and began my own audit.
What I found shocked even me, with very low expectations. Rules for keeping confidential information private were ignored. Motions to be made only in executive session weren’t. Committee appointments required to be “submitted to the assembly for approval” were not. In fact, some investigators remained anonymous, defying the requirement that they be of “known integrity and good judgment.” An attorney never allowed into executive sessions actually led the “in executive session only” investigation.
Confidentially sourced information has special rules. Generally used only to guide investigators, only rarely can it go into a report. It is of small value since the Central Committee won’t know where it originated or its chain of custody to protect fairness and authenticity. This whole section of rules had been ignored. We know because a key component of the report was leaked.
Brent Regan, the party’s rules chairman, asked to release a covert video taken secretly at a worship service. Leaked and highly edited clips revealed nothing about “residency,” but feature the accused using emotional wording prejudicial to the re-election question of “how much time do you spend in Idaho?”
The rules recommend 30 days for the accused to prepare before details are shared in an executive session “trial.” Based on firsthand witness, the offer was more like 30 seconds.
Ignored rules cast a cloud over the confrontation in Challis, where an ultimatum was delivered to resign, or the report goes public. The threat was impotent. An objection to receiving the report, citing any number of these violations, would be upheld by every parliamentarian.
So there’s your answer. How do you get rid of a nonconformist? With smoke and mirrors.