Not my circus — but we're stuck with these monkeys

Guest Opinion by Gail Mallard

"Not my circus, not my monkeys."

— Polish proverb

There's a Polish proverb that has become the modern world's most satisfying shrug: Not my circus, not my monkeys. It's the verbal equivalent of backing slowly out of a burning room while someone else argues about who left the stove on. It is wisdom distilled. It is sanity preserved.

Unfortunately, for the people of Alabama, it doesn't quite apply.

This is our circus. These are, God help us, our monkeys. The Alabama legislature gaveled to sine die on April 9 — and the big top is not coming down. It's expanding.

The Ringmaster who couldn’t care less

At center ring stands House Speaker Nathaniel Ledbetter (R-Rainsville) — and that "R" deserves its own investigation. Ledbetter ran as a Democrat in 2010 and lost. He worked closely with his mentor, Democrat Senator Lowell Barron. Then, in 2014, he was reportedly granted ballot access as a Republican by a single vote. Whether it was a genuine political conversion or simply a recognition of which way Alabama's winds were blowing is left as an exercise for the reader. His high school nickname was reportedly "Banjo" — and one does wonder whether the ability to be played has been a career asset. Nine years after that one-vote Republican baptism, he was Speaker of the House.

Earlier this year when a secretly recorded Alabama House Republican Caucus meeting surfaced, revealing Ledbetter's candid contempt for the party he nominally leads, the response from leadership was not introspection. It was a witch hunt. More energy was poured into finding the leaker than into doing the actual work of governing. In Montgomery, it seems, the message is always: never mind the content — punish the messenger. The fallout was swift and theatrical. 

In the other circus ring, State Rep. Scott Stadthagen (R-Hartselle), elected majority leader in 2022, announced a leave of absence to run for Alabama Republican Party (ALGOP) chairman. Ledbetter and allies reportedly raised conflict-of-interest concerns — and in one of those coincidences that only happen in Alabama politics, Rep. Chip Brown, who just happened to be the sponsor of the PSC bill that was being shoved down Alabamians' throats over significant public outcry, was appointed majority leader. Brown didn't hold the position long before the caucus elected Rep. Paul Lee (R-Dothan) in yet another round of musical chairs.

The Health Nazi and the phone-throwing incident

If you've seen Mean Girls, you know what it looks like when the perceived popular kid loses control of the cafeteria. Newly elected Majority Leader Paul Lee — who chairs the House Health Committee, where good health bills go to disappear forever — reportedly channeled his inner Regina George during a subsequent caucus meeting. When Rep. Arnold Mooney was accused of recording the proceedings, Lee allegedly threw Mooney's phone to the ground and banned him from the caucus. Not exactly the statesman energy Alabamians deserve, but entirely consistent with the energy they've been getting. 

Tuberville to the rescue (sort of)

With the PSC bill controversy still smoldering, Ledbetter called in reinforcements in the form of Sen. Tommy Tuberville, who appeared before the caucus and posted on social media that he was grateful to "my good friend, Speaker of the House Nathaniel Ledbetter" for the invitation. Tuberville touted adding a Secretary of Energy to the Alabama Public Service Commission structure — someone to work with Alabama Power and TVA, presumably because the elected officials already on the PSC haven't been doing enough of that. The whispers in Montgomery grow louder now: that Ledbetter himself is being positioned as Alabama's new Energy Czar. The man who couldn't win a race as a Democrat, who squeaked onto a Republican ballot, may be on his way to an appointed position of significant energy industry influence. Call it a long con or call it a career — in Alabama, the difference is academic.

Rules for thee, not for thy favored

Over at the ALGOP, the executive committee was busy demonstrating that "party rules" are more of a suggestion than a requirement — provided you have the right friends. John Wahl, also known as Nehemiah Ezekiel Wahl, who openly admitted to holding a Tennessee driver's license and being registered to vote in Tennessee, was nonetheless allowed to remain on the Alabama ballot following a split vote. The tiebreaker? Joan Reynolds — the acting chair who stepped in after Wahl himself resigned to pursue the Lieutenant Governor's race.

The conflict-of-interest concerns were glaring. Rep. Ben Harrison, who has been vocally grateful to Wahl for being "instrumental" in his election, voted to keep Wahl on the ballot. ALGOP Secretary Carol Jahns — who worked alongside Wahl when he chaired the party — voted. Reed Phillips, a former ALGOP employee reportedly volunteering for Wahl's campaign, voted. To her credit, Krystal Drummond — who donated $250,000 to Wahl's campaign — was the only one who did the right thing and abstained. The others could learn something from that.

The story gets richer. Dean Odle, who was also running for Lieutenant Governor and had properly qualified, had been told by then-ALGOP chairman John Wahl that Odle could have an exemption hearing if his ballot access was ever challenged. The irony that the person who made that promise ended up running for the very same office — and whose own ballot access was then the subject of the committee's “scrutiny” — apparently did not register as an issue to anyone casting a vote that day.

Then there is Jesse Battles, who sought ballot access in Senate District 10 and was denied. Battles was accused of working as a political consultant for former House Democratic Minority Leader Craig Ford (D-Gadsden) in his unsuccessful 2018 run for Senate against Jones. Ford had switched his party affiliation from Democratic to independent, but the party loyalty rule applies to anyone supporting a candidate against a Republican. That was eight years ago. Battles had an ALGOP legislator go to bat for him and was still turned away. He is now running a petition drive just to get his name on the ballot.

Meanwhile, Alabama's own Katie Britt — the state's political "darlin" — fully and publicly supported former Democratic Senator Doug Jones and faced no such scrutiny when seeking Republican ballot access. The rules of this circus, it turns out, depend entirely on who is holding the whip.

405 members and a clicker that doesn't click

The March 7 ALGOP meeting at the Hyatt Regency in Birmingham drew some 405ish members, many of whom arrived wearing "Fire Ledbetter" and "We Give a S***!" stickers — a fashion statement that said more than most floor speeches. The meeting opened with an extended discussion about the security of the electronic voting "clickers": they'd been tested, they weren't connected to the internet, everything was fine. A motion for hand-counted paper ballots was made and defeated by majority vote, presumably because convenience is a virtue.

Naturally, several clickers malfunctioned. Private vote percentages flashed briefly on the projection screen for all to see. And in the day's crowning moment, Stadthagen was announced as the new ALGOP chairman before anyone in charge remembered that their own rules required more than 50% of the vote. Wahl grandstanded. A recount was called. Stadthagen won the runoff. The meeting continued as if none of it had happened. If 405 people in a Birmingham ballroom can't manage a simple election with tested, secure, internet-free clickers— what does that say about our confidence in Alabama elections at large? Asking for 5 million residents.

The closed primary gambit

At the March 7 meeting, a group of Republicans began circulating a petition — requiring 75 signatures — to call a special ALGOP executive committee meeting to address "party loyalty and nominee-qualification concerns" related to Ledbetter's Republican credentials. The leverage was straightforward: if Ledbetter brought HB541, the closed primary bill, to the House floor for a vote, the special meeting would reportedly not be called. The whispers had already confirmed that Ledbetter was going to bring up the bill anyway.

One must wonder whether HB541 was ever truly intended to pass — or whether it was simply a prop. A crown-polishing exercise for a man quietly being groomed as Energy Czar. A ruse dressed up as reform, performed for an audience that paid full price for a ticket to a show where the ending was written before the curtain rose.

Hunger: apparently a racial question

Amid all of this, the House found time to advance SB57 — legislation that would ban SNAP benefits from being used to purchase candy, sugary sodas, and energy drinks, requiring the state to seek a USDA waiver. 

State Rep. Juandalynn Givan (D-Birmingham) claimed the bill was "a clear target" for a specific demographic, arguing that more white people receive SNAP than non-white people. Make that make sense. Rep. Reed Ingram (R-Pike Road), carrying the bill in the House, noted that he'd experienced homelessness growing up. "You ain't had it hard because you never woke up black," Givan continued with a debate that consumed far more oxygen than any serious discussion of why Alabama remains among the poorest states in the nation to begin with. Apparently hunger in Alabama hits differently based on race.

The exit we cannot take

The Polish proverb is a fantasy for the people of Alabama. We cannot shrug and walk away. We live here. We pay taxes here. We send our children to schools funded — or underfunded — by the decisions made in these caucus meetings and committee rooms. The PSC bill affects our utility bills. The ballot access games determine who we're even allowed to vote for. The energy czar appointment affects who has power over our power.

Jokes on Alabamians. Admission to this circus is anything but free.

Alabama does score high in one category: we consistently rank among the most corrupt states in the nation, and we've managed that distinction with a Republican supermajority running the show. The tent is big. The show never ends. And the monkeys, as always, run wild with no regard for the people of Alabama. It’s time to run the monkeys out of Montgomery.

Gail Mallard is the nom de guerre of a concerned Alabama Republican. ALPolitics.com has chosen to respect the use of this pseudonym as a reflection of the writer’s Constitutional and unalienable rights.

Opinions do not reflect the views and opinions of ALPolitics.com. ALPolitics.com makes no claims nor assumes any responsibility for the information and opinions expressed above.