When an organization devotes more energy persecuting internal heretics than effort to expand its membership, there’s reason to suspect institutional atrophy. Only a half-century passed following the launch of the Spanish Inquisition before a German priest tacked 95 theses to his cathedral door in 1517. Eight years later, Martin Luther abandoned celibacy in order to marry and raise a family, founding what would become the Lutheran faith. The threat of being burned at the stake by the Inquisition significantly reduced public dissent but, inadvertently, promoted migration to the new world of the Americas.

It would be 300 years before the Catholic Church shut down public executions, but well after most other European countries dabbled in the practice of burning witches and skeptics. Before coming to its senses, the Catholic hierarchy had driven half the continent into the pews of Protestant churches. Schisms, either religious or political, emerge as self-harm practiced as righteousness. All this comes to mind after attending the Colorado Republican central committee rebellion in Brighton the week before last — which may or may not have removed Dave Williams and his allies as party officers. Protracted legal jousting lies ahead, but Williams enjoys the advantage of occupancy. I was turned away from his “official” central committee meeting at the Rock Church in Castle Rock this past weekend. Politely ejected by a burly private security guard for the offense of being a member of the press who warned I was trespassing at a “private event.”

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The young guardian who confronted me had his cordial threat committed to memory, including a mention this presence had been coordinated with the Douglas County Sheriff. When I asked whether this meant the sheriff had consented to a clear violation of Colorado law, he swiftly retreated and confirmed his firm had merely notified the sheriff they would be providing security for the Republican meeting. I specifically explained the presence of multiple elected officials made the gathering a public event subject to the state’s open meetings law. It was apparent he would call the sheriff to have me removed, so discretion seemed the better part of valor. I had little desire to spend the remainder of a holiday weekend in a Douglas County jail cell. I took a parting shot at a Rock Church staff member, inquiring whether his pastor approved such a flagrant violation of Colorado law. No response was proffered before he scurried away.

Returning to my car, a jovial group was approaching the entrance. One woman wore a T-shirt emblazoned with, “I’m voting for the FELON.” I couldn’t help grinning and she advised me I could order my own shirt on the internet. Confessing to my identity as a member of the press, I asked how they felt about my being booted as an enemy of the people? Grudgingly, they agreed it probably wasn’t a smart move. I pointed out it was evident from the number of vehicles arriving in the lot that far more of their delegates were attending in person than had traveled to Brighton the week before. “I would report this in my column,” I noted. “How else will your fellow Republicans learn that?” They nodded but grumbled that reporters usually distort or misrepresent anything conservatives say in public meetings. “Liberals offer the same complaint,” I told them. “We must be doing something right when we are irritating both the right and the left. If someone says something stupid, it’s probably going to appear in the story — that’s the way journalism works.”

Several days earlier, while checking the time and location for the Castle Rock meeting, I took time to explore the Colorado Republican website. There was some genuine, 24-carat lunacy posted there. I had to research repeated references to the “Uniparty,” charged with attempting to destroy the Republican Party, not just in Colorado, but in a half-dozen swing states, including Michigan and Arizona. The Uniparty is alleged to be comprised of Republicans in Name Only (RINOS) working in concert with communist Democrats. I was unable to determine whether these communists constitute a minority in the Democratic Party or, perhaps, represent a treason embraced by all Democrats. It seems it’s more the latter. There were also links to election rigging schemes and Second Amendment firearm confiscation plots, together with Trump quotes like, “We’re a nation in decline.” By this week, most of these links had vanished.

Unlike the Williams prohibition against a media presence, the Brighton meeting welcomed we ink-stained wretches and bent over backward to demonstrate they were acting in punctilious compliance with Republican Party by-laws (all 59 pages of them). Former Colorado Secretary of State Wayne Williams from El Paso County served as parliamentarian. State Rep. Richard Holtorf chaired the meeting. Although there were only 82 credentialed central committee members present, they carried another hundred proxies among them. The votes to expel Williams, along with his Vice-Chair Hope Scheppelman and Secretary Anna Ferguson, each passed on votes of roughly 160-to-10. Williams survived a ballot in Castle Rock with an equally lopsided result of 190-to-10. Both crowds were avowedly pro-Trump.

The traditional, or elite, rebel group in Brighton clearly believed Williams’ hijacking of the party apparatus to support his own failed congressional candidacy, coupled with recent, unhinged attacks on gay and trans Coloradans, were self-defeating for Republicans. A 20-year central committee member asked what he should tell his gay son when he returns to Colorado from Harvard when his party is calling for burning gay flags? These insurrectionists appeared confident their uprising would be approved by the national party. When I inquired of an organizer, “Do you really think Lara Trump will reject the party Chairman who was endorsed by her father-in-law in favor of Eli Bremer?” I was assured they already had secured the Republican Congressional Campaign Committee’s endorsement (apparently true). Since Williams fiscal shenanigans have him in a peck of trouble with the Federal Election Commission, the RNC is presumed ready to sacrifice him for the greater good. This strikes me as a dubious presumption.

This internecine struggle will transpire during Colorado’s 2024 campaigns and can hardly benefit Republican candidates up or down the ballot. In a state which turned periwinkle blue in recent years, an intramural dispute does nothing to strengthen the Republican election brand. The victors may only earn an opportunity to drive the final nails and attach shiny brass handles on their party’s coffin.

Miller Hudson is a public affairs consultant and a former Colorado legislator.