The O’Toole Chronicles: RINO – What’s in a Name?

Growing up as a mixed-race child in the 1970s, a lot of names were hurled in my direction. When I was younger, those names cut and hurt. As I got older, and my skin got thicker, they bothered me less and less—probably because I had heard some version of them all by the time I graduated from high school. In my 20s and 30s, I only reacted when someone came up with something new or clever, which was rare (unless you were that Union County GOP State Committeewoman who pulled her eyelids back while saying I couldn’t be an “O’Toole”).

As I got into politics, I realized those childhood experiences shaped my ability to be an effective and strong advocate for my constituents. It did not bother me when someone said they would not vote for me after I cast a vote they did not like because I knew I cast my vote with the best interests of my district in mind. I seldom cared when someone accused me of “selling out” because I knew that is not who I was or how I conducted myself. When a primary opponent accused me of being the “affirmative action baby” of the Republican Party, it only fueled me to work harder. I actually laughed at how pathetic that same opponent was when, in defense of their mailers, they said, “it’s not like we gave him a jaundiced look.”

Words and accusations thrown at me by those who don’t know me slid off my back. Until recently.

In the last decade, there has been one word in Republican circles that has gotten under my skin. I have been called this name. People I consider friends in this business have been called this name. Republican candidates who I have no relationship with have been called this name. No matter who it has been used against, every time, it gets under my skin.

I am referring to the term “RINO” – Republican in Name Only.

In my political life, if you were a Democrat and were working on legislation that would improve the lives of the residents of my district or the State, I was more than happy to work with you. To me, and many of my former colleagues, we were sent to Trenton to make a positive impact on the residents of New Jersey, party affiliation be damned. We co-sponsored legislation, tag-teamed department heads during hearings if they were failing our residents, and praised governors (of either party) when they got something right. In my political afterlife, as I tried to do while in office, I never let party labels get in the way of building relationships with people whether I disagreed with them or not.

We worked TOGETHER. We worked in a bipartisan manner. We compromised to achieve something good—without compromising our principles.

Somewhere along the way, that became a bad thing. Somewhere along the way, the left flank of the Democratic Party decided to attack bipartisanship. Somewhere along the way, the right flank of my party decided to call that being a “RINO.”

In one of the recent debates, I heard a candidate hurl the term “RINO” at his opponent, as if it would elicit a rage-filled reaction from voters, driving them to the polls to vote against the so-called “RINO.” Sure, when I was a candidate facing a primary challenge, I didn’t want my opponents using that term against me—in the beginning—when I thought that “four-letter word” could be the end of my career.

I quickly learned, however, that the person throwing the attack is (nine times out of ten) looking up at their opponent, with no shot at winning. So, desperate candidates, with a platform that is gaining zero traction, decide to channel their inner Doug Flutie and throw a political “Hail Mary” in the air, hoping primary voters will catch it. But don’t tell that to the winless challengers who continue to use this juvenile term as if it holds the weight of Kryptonite on Superman.

When you step outside of the echo chamber that is your campaign staff, political supporters, Facebook, and county committee you quickly learn that the term “RINO” has far more bark than bite. Nearly thirty years in elective office has taught me that the average voter is a lot smarter than we give them credit for. The hardcore primary voter (of either party) is A LOT more engaged than we would like to admit to ourselves. They the know the issues that motivate them; they know your votes on matters important to them.

I always wondered, when using that term, does the “accuser” believe they have cornered the market on Republicanism? Does the accuser believe that, somehow, they are “pure” and the rest of us are not? Do they believe the voters have subverted their judgment on what makes a good Republican elected official to them? Do they expect us to believe that they have never comprised to advance the ball forward? Would they rather we accomplish nothing than something? Some say that is the beginning of the end, “when you give the Democrats one thing, that’s it . . . .” I would venture to say that approach works in an authoritarian dictatorship, not in our republic—where the voices of the minority party were intended to be weighed equally against those of the majority (hence, two senators from EACH state or why the framers of our Constitution created the Electoral College to ensure that EVERY state held the power to decide who the President would be).

Elections are supposed to be difficult to win. They are designed to test not only your physical limits but also your intestinal fortitude. Elections have consequences, and, therefore, you have to be willing to lay it all on the line to win. But, if you think calling someone a “RINO” is all you need to do in order to win, well then, that is probably why you have never won an election. In your quest for an “all or nothing” candidate, what you probably have done, though, is beat a Republican in a primary and then lost in the general to a Democrat. What did that get you other than a head on your mantle? You may have won the battle, but you lost the war.

For those who have actually governed, we know there are no absolutes.

For those who have never governed, then I suppose keep using “RINO” because as Professor Barbay said in the Rodney Dangerfield movie Back to School: “It’s a fictional product. It doesn’t matter.”