As GOP groups go MAGA, some see trouble for party apparatus
| Greenville, S.C.
The Republican Party in South Carolina’s Greenville County has undergone something of a hostile takeover. After former President Donald Trump lost reelection in 2020, a group of MAGA-aligned activists here pushed out long-standing party officials, who they claimed were insufficiently loyal to Mr. Trump. They even changed the party logo, adding Mr. Trump’s infamous golden hair to the Greenville GOP’s red-and-blue elephant.
“We’re trying to take back the party and put into leadership people who are MAGA, ‘America First’ supporters,” says Jeff Davis, the new state executive committeeman for the Greenville County GOP. “This is the new Republican Party. It’s coming.”
Why We Wrote This
Efforts to put Trump supporters in charge of Republican infrastructure are bearing fruit. Some see grassroots activism. Others see a hostile takeover.
Across the country, Trump loyalists have taken over the GOP infrastructure at the county, state, and even national levels. Supporters say they’re remaking party organizations to better reflect the wishes of the voters and are finally giving the former president and current front-runner the institutional support he deserves.
To critics, the overt fidelity to one candidate is inappropriate and verges on undemocratic. Some worry it will divert resources from down-ballot candidates not closely allied with Mr. Trump. And they say the purge of experienced operatives could hurt the GOP’s long-term viability, impacting crucial duties like fundraising, candidate recruitment, and get-out-the-vote efforts.
Nate Leupp ticks off his years of service to the Republican Party: One term running South Carolina’s Upstate Young Republicans. Two terms as chair of the Greenville County GOP, the largest Republican group in the state. He volunteered for former President Donald Trump’s campaign and served as a national delegate for him at both the 2016 and 2020 conventions.
“And they call me a RINO?” snorts Mr. Leupp, who runs a Christian music production studio just 3 miles from the new Greenville GOP headquarters – a place where he no longer feels welcome.
As Mr. Leupp sees it, the Greenville GOP has undergone something of a hostile takeover. After former President Trump lost reelection in 2020, a group of MAGA-aligned activists here – many previously unknown to local Republican leaders – began organizing under the name mySCGOP. They pushed out long-standing party officials who they claimed were insufficiently loyal to Mr. Trump. They even changed the party logo, adding Mr. Trump’s infamous golden hair to the Greenville GOP’s red-and-blue elephant.
Why We Wrote This
Efforts to put Trump supporters in charge of Republican infrastructure are bearing fruit. Some see grassroots activism. Others see a hostile takeover.
“These people ... had no credentials whatsoever,” says Mr. Leupp, who’s incredulous that he’s the one being labeled a “Republican in name only.” “Now we have a lot of people in the Greenville County Republicans who refuse to say they are Republican. They say, ‘I’m MAGA; I’m not a Republican.’”
He adds, “Greenville is just a microcosm of what Trump did nationwide.”
It’s a dynamic that’s playing out across the United States, as Trump loyalists, many of whom were previously uninvolved in politics and not necessarily even registered Republicans, have taken over the GOP infrastructure at the county, state, and even national levels. Supporters say they’re remaking party organizations to better reflect the wishes of the voters and are finally giving the former president and current front-runner the institutional support he deserves.
But to critics, the overt fidelity to one candidate – as demonstrated through canceled primaries and the suppression of intraparty dissent – is inappropriate and verges on undemocratic. Some worry it will divert resources away from down-ballot candidates who may not be closely allied with Mr. Trump. And they say the purge of experienced operatives could hurt the GOP’s long-term viability, impacting crucial duties like fundraising, candidate recruitment, and get-out-the-vote efforts.
Bitter infighting has broken out in places like Greenville and South Carolina’s Horry County. In Michigan, new state GOP Chair Kristina Karamo, an outspoken denier of the 2020 election results, was forced from her post in January after significant fundraising woes and altercations. She is now suing to regain her seat.
Likewise, scandals and ideological disagreements have weakened the GOP apparatus in other states that could decide the 2024 presidential election – including Georgia, Florida, Nevada, and Arizona. Last year, the Arizona GOP chair reportedly asked the national party for a financial bailout after running up legal bills in election fraud cases, and records suggest the Michigan GOP is hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.
At the national level, Ronna McDaniel, chairwoman of the Republican National Committee, is reportedly preparing to step down, following months of tension between her and Mr. Trump – a rare midcycle departure. In her place, Mr. Trump has endorsed his daughter-in-law, Lara Trump, and his senior campaign adviser Chris LaCivita to help lead the RNC. Recently, Ms. Trump said she believed Republican voters would like to see the RNC pay Mr. Trump’s legal fees.
“What we’ve been doing here in South Carolina is kind of a mini version of what’s happening at the RNC. We’re trying to take back the party and put into leadership people who are MAGA, ‘America First’ supporters,” says Jeff Davis, one of the leaders of the mySCGOP movement and the current state executive committeeman for the Greenville County GOP. “This is the new Republican Party. It’s coming.”
“Parties don’t endorse”
On the campaign trail in South Carolina this past weekend, Nikki Haley, Mr. Trump’s only remaining major challenger for the GOP nomination, called the prospect of a Trump-allied RNC bad for democracy, saying, “We don’t anoint kings in America.”
Others compare it to letting one competitor hand-pick new referees in the middle of the game.
“The nominee – once they become the nominee – has the right to put their imprint on the RNC,” says Henry Barbour, an RNC committeeman from Mississippi. “[But] I think this effort is premature. Nikki Haley is still in the race.”
Yet in many states, the primaries’ outcome has been treated as a foregone conclusion. State parties in Florida, Ohio, Colorado, Arizona, and Georgia – none of which have held primary elections yet – have already signaled their support for Mr. Trump’s nomination.
“Parties don’t endorse,” says Oscar Brock, a committee member from Tennessee. “They have their right to be supportive of Trump, but they don’t have a right to use the state party to support one candidate.”
At a recent Greenville GOP “Coffee and Politics” event, roughly 40 people gather over doughnuts and biscuits with gravy, beneath a handwritten sign that reads, “You have to be politically feared to be politically respected.”
Toward the end of the meeting, one member, Terry Wicker, reminds everyone that they will be getting some yard signs for Ms. Haley, the state’s former governor.
“If anyone is interested,” she explains, before quickly adding, “I think everybody here wants Trump. But just, you know – we’re being fair.”
“You’re being watched if you pick up a Nikki Haley sign,” someone says, as the room erupts in laughter.
“You can take a Nikki sign and put ‘never’ on it,” says an older woman in the back. More laughs.
As the merriment dies down, someone asks Ms. Wicker to remind the room about an upcoming Trump door-knocking event.
A ground-up effort bears fruit
Mr. Davis, the Greenville GOP’s state executive committeeman, was once active in the local tea party group. But after going to bed on election night in 2020, when Mr. Trump appeared to be winning, and then waking up the next morning to find Joe Biden ahead, he says he realized the importance of getting more Trump supporters into the party infrastructure.
He and a group of like-minded activists formed mySCGOP, initially focusing their efforts on electing MAGA Republicans to lead Greenville County’s 151 voting precincts. In years past, Mr. Davis says, as many as half of these entry-level seats went unfilled.
“The only way to replace people at the county, state, and ultimately at the national level – and this is where Trump is helping us from the top down – is a numbers game,” says Mr. Davis. “Technically the RNC is supposed to be a bottom-up organization, but they make the rules so complicated. ... They wanted to keep it small to control it all.”
They started growing their group, through Facebook and a website, and knocking on doors. People “were looking for an outlet,” says Mr. Davis. Ultimately, mySCGOP candidates won leadership positions in a majority of the 151 precincts.
A few months later, when the top three elected leaders of the Greenville GOP resigned, citing continual lawsuits and threats from mySCGOP members, it was those newly elected mySCGOP precinct leaders who got to pick their replacements – one of whom wound up being Mr. Davis.
“People that had traditionally held power very easily had never been challenged,” says Yvonne Julian, the new chair of the Greenville GOP, who says the first time she voted for a Republican was for Mr. Trump in 2016. “They were a little bit blind to what was happening, to the power of the whole Trump movement. ... I tell a lot of them, ‘If you had done a better job, I would not be here.’”
Still, some longtime party members say what’s happening is more than just healthy grassroots activism. They say there’s a kind of burn-the-place-down attitude that threatens to destroy some of these institutions entirely. In Greenville over the past two years, there have been screaming matches, salacious accusations, and lawsuits. The cops have even been called. Twice.
“They would like to see every person they consider a RINO who is in elected office replaced,” says Karen Eachus, a retired film script supervisor who was born and raised in Greenville, and who recently resigned as secretary of the Greenville GOP.
“They will tell you they support the Republican platform,” says Ms. Eachus. “And yet actions speak differently.”
Last year, South Carolina’s state party, whose chair has called mySCGOP “a fringe, rogue group,” formally took over Greenville’s county convention. And Mr. Davis has been banned from attending the state GOP’s quarterly meetings – a central duty in his role as Greenville’s state executive committeeman – because of “disruptive behavior.”
More recently, at the urging of several local Republicans, Mr. Leupp started the Fourth District Republican Club – essentially a shadow county party, with hundreds of former Greenville GOP members, including Ms. Eachus – that now conducts much of the business of the traditional county party, such as helping the state GOP run local elections.
“When Trump’s out of the picture, which inevitably will happen, what are they left with?” asks Mr. Leupp. “I’m going to be here doing Republican things long after the radicals down the street are. Because what they don’t understand is the Republican Party is not just about one office. It’s not just about Trump.”
