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In this interview, Russell Bowers explains how he entered politics on a dare. He notes various influences such as the Book of Mormon and the writings of the late BYU religion professor Hugh Nibley on his own approach to his public service. This interview was conducted on July 13, 2021, by Kate Hall, a BYU student majoring in political science and minoring in civic engagement leadership.

Kate Hall: Thank you so much, Speaker Bowers, for being here today. It’s an honor to be interviewing you. For a little context, would you mind giving us a little bit of background about yourself: where you grew up, went to school, a little bit about your family?

Rusty Bowers: I was born and raised here in Mesa, Arizona. Lived most of my family life with family members in Arizona. Had a small sheep ranch when I was young in Chino Valley in North Central Arizona. Parents—my father was a coach, somewhat of a schoolteacher. Worked in the Prescott schools, Scottsdale schools, here in the valley. Mother was a King. Her roots are in Arizona but from the Kings down in Antimony, Utah. So that’s always had a kind of a romantic tug on us. They’re both buried there. I went to Mesa High School. I was engaged to my girlfriend prior to my mission and married shortly after returning from the mission. I was named after her father, Cy Russell. Our parents were good friends.

I am an artist by profession. Received my baccalaureate at BYU a hundred years ago in art. I went to try to get a master’s. I had been offered a job at BYU, but I didn’t have a master’s degree, and it was suggested that I go somewhere other than BYU. But by then we had five children and going to the Chicago art school wasn’t in the cards. So I went to Arizona State University and started the program. But they turned down my portfolios, both in sculpture and painting. One professor told me it was because I put on my letter of intent that I wanted to be an art teacher. And they don’t want to teach art teachers; that’s an art education major.

Anyway, at that time somebody dared me to run for office in the Arizona legislature, and I had no income. And while it was a minimal eighteen thousand dollars, I thought, “Well, it’ll be something, and then I’ll try to work on art.” Anyways, that was in 1992. And I was elected. My campaign was a very shoestring operation, but I’d been raised here and my mother was a singer and had me sing everywhere. And so a lot of people knew of me.

We have seven children—that’s the most important thing. Donetta and I have seven children—six living. One passed away about four months ago, a daughter who lived with us. And we have twenty grandchildren, so that’s a major part of life. Has been all through my political existence. I’ve served in the church in various capacities, through the wards. Elders quorum, now Sunday School, Primary, Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Varsity Scouts. I was in four bishoprics and one branch presidency. So that’s been varied. And a couple of times on the high council. But everybody wised up, and so they threw me out. Now I teach Gospel Doctrine. Wife and kids are everything. And that’s part of what makes politics personal for me is that I just figure I’m a regular guy and I would like to see the law favor regular people. And you know, all the other rhetoric that surrounds politics is kind of chaff. But anyway, that’s kind of it. I do artwork. When we get off, I try to remember what I used to do for a living.

Kate Hall: When did you first become interested in politics? You mentioned someone urging you to run for the state legislature, but was there something really specific that made you become interested or urged you to become involved?

Rusty Bowers: My father was a convert away from a certain party, the Democratic Party, during the Depression and would talk about politics in the home. That was a common theme in conversation—political things of the day and concerns. He was involved when President [Ezra Taft] Benson was a higher profile. So there was always kind of an undercurrent. I knew political people who were elected and had a couple of meetings with them, you know, neighborhood meetings hosted for them. I was approached by an involved person at the legislative district level in the Republican Party to be a precinct committee person. And she reviewed the job and I said, “Man, you could do a lot with that. If I’m going to do that, I might as well get involved, I mean, I might as well get elected.” And she said, “Well, Stan Barnes is going to be stepping out.” He was the representative at the time for our district. “Why don’t you run?” I said, “Oh, no! Ha ha.” She said, “I dare you to.” I said, “You dare me to?” She goes, “Yeah, I mean, you know, you’ll have to get some signatures, and you have two weeks to get them in, and so I dare you.” I said, “OK, I’ll try.” And that’s it. That was the extent of the deep thought. Unfortunately for the world, I was elected. And that was in 1992.

Kate Hall: I’d be interested to know if there were any religious or political leaders that either influenced you to run or as you’ve been serving the past few years.

Rusty Bowers: Unfortunately, the story that comes to mind is not positive. When I was thinking of running, period, I’d gone to my stake president, Jim Hamula, and he said, “Don’t do it. It’s a mean place and lots of, you know, lots of bad stuff.” And my father had died a few years prior who had said to me, “You know, if I had hair like yours, I’d be governor.” I had hair; now I don’t. And my father-in-law, for whom I was named, is the finest person I’ve ever known. And he suggested, he said, “What would your father want you to do?” And I said, “My father would want me to serve.” And he said, “Well, that’s what you should do.” And so I decided that I would. I’ve seen President Hamula a couple of times since, and he reminded me, “Remember, I told you not to do this.”

I had other good leaders, bishops, et cetera. None of them said, “Run for office.” But I admired them. Hugh Nibley—I read his books Approaching Zion, Nibley on the Timely and the Timeless—a bunch of them—and how he viewed political involvement. I used to say I was a utopian Zionist, not a Republican. But that doesn’t sell well out on the street. Not a lot of other figures per se were involved in any decisions about running for office. But I read a lot and tried to do my duty as far as scriptures and involvement and service in the church, et cetera. And I think that promoted in my heart a desire to protect the church and protect families. You know, I have some feelings about that.

Kate Hall: Were there any specific church teachings that influenced you to become involved?

Rusty Bowers: Well, the Book of Mormon. I think my wife and I, probably thirty-five years ago, decided we would read the Book of Mormon every day. And I’ve missed like five times. I think she’s missed like three times, two times. She blames me; I had her doing something else. But the Book of Mormon has consistently the themes that if you’ll keep the commandments, you’ll prosper in the land. Do your business by the voice of the people. If people ever choose to do that which is wicked, then the judgments of God come out on them. Things like that. Those strong teachings about self-governance and kind of not a real high opinion of a government-centered life. But more of a self-government-centered life with proper religious convictions, I think, generally in the church. I’ve heard, as you have heard many, many, many, many, many times, you know we need good people to run for office. I always thought, “Well, that’s not me. I mean, let’s go find somebody good because they’re a lot better than me. They’re just not running.” But I think generally those themes that teach people correct principles and they govern themselves. And more and more and more, I see government as the payor of last resort of the consequences of the population’s choices all the way along. People make bad choices, and they want government to bail them out. And that’s what I do a lot. They have influenced me.

Kate Hall: Did your religious beliefs affect the party that you chose to affiliate with?

Rusty Bowers: I think, yes. And someday when we have a lot clearer vision, I will probably see that was not necessarily proper guidance. At the time, the Republican Party thirty years ago still had vestiges of civility and a decency and respect for family, the traditional family. And what we might call traditional family values: parents in the home, obedient children, you know, some type of discipline, a loving discipline, which was up and down in my particular home. The protection of family seemed to coincide more with the Republican Party at the time. The abortion issue now has been kind of co-opted by both sides. One prochoice, whatever choice means; the other, the antiabortion stance.

The decency and the civility, the respect for family, the respect for others, the rights of others—it currently is in disarray. Whatever conservative is has also been co-opted to be angry and retaliatory. It’s a whole different world. Terms fly around landing on different issues on an issue-by-issue basis without any seeming foundation. But I’m more of a conservative, in the view of conserving virtuous structures and ideals. If that was what conservative meant, that’s what I would want to be.

And through this last year, in our state, it has manifested itself abundantly that I am a stranger in my own town. The anger, the knee-jerk uneducated responses on all sides to things. And I think there are drivers for that. There are social drivers for that that we have accepted instead of work. It’s work to study an issue. It’s work to learn from a lot of people and a lot of sources on issues. And it’s all too easy to push a button, and poof—there’s my answer. Someone said this; therefore, it must be true. And I think a lot of these modern pressures contribute to the decline in the civility and the willingness to invest time into relationships. And to be forgiving and tolerant and other things, which are religious things, but are extremely illuminated in politics. Religion isn’t separate from life; it is life. And I’m grateful to the founders who saw that. If somebody was truly more inclined to religion, unless you know their choices took them to some cultic, you know. I mean, like in the hundred and thirty-fourth section of the Doctrine and Covenants. That view of religious involvement would be something I would totally embrace and do. So there are teachings that have guided me and my view and my judgment of what is happening today. I didn’t know if that was the question, but that’s the answer.

Kate Hall: How does your religion affect your approach to your office?

Rusty Bowers: Good question. I’m both a representative and the Speaker. A representative elected to represent roughly—you know we’re going to redistricting—two hundred and fifty thousand people in Arizona. And then I was elected by twenty-one of my thirty-one Republican peers, and by the body, by acclamation. So I have two hats that I wear. I have the nuts-and-bolts hat of district involvement, which is minimal because the demands of the Speaker’s responsibilities are larger. Where we’re probably one of the smaller state governments as far as the House and Senate. But in the House I have about 145 employees. And I’m in charge of the building and its maintenance and, you know, insurance and legalities and security and all that. And I have a wonderful staff. We have probably the best staff that I’ve ever known in my thirty years of involvement in the legislature.

I occasionally will build up my courage and remember to ask if they will join me in our staff meetings in a word of prayer. I know that some are atheists. We’re many different faith communities. And I ask others to pray as well so we have kind of a more overt, at times, religious presence. When people ask me why I won’t do XYZ, I say, “I really am trying to be like Jesus. I don’t just talk about it. I really want to be like Jesus. And Jesus would forgive him. And so, I choose to forgive the governor.” And they’re all upset. This isn’t Sunday school; I just choose to forgive. I’m not good at it, I have to work at it. So there are times when I can speak that way to others. There have been opportunities for more private communication. I don’t deny, you know, alcohol or other things that are being thrown at us that others use them. I don’t support them in votes, but I don’t keep them from being voted on because they have their agency. The population gave to all of my colleagues the responsibility to represent them as they see fit. And I don’t know that it’s my obligation to force my religion onto the things that we discuss.

But there are some things I will not do. And so there are certain things we had, for example, in an infanticide bill, where a woman could decide after the birth of her child if she had wanted an abortion, she could decide to terminate—I love that word terminate—the child’s life. And when that bill came across my desk—I review all the bills with my staff. Fifteen hundred plus. Seventeen hundred bills this year. And when it came across the desk here a couple years ago, I said, “We’re going to hear that bill. That bill is going to committee.” And people said, “Woah you’re kidding.” And I said, “Oh no, that bill’s going to committee. I want the world to see the difference in how we think on that question.” And so there are times when overtly I am pro-life. And on bills like that, I definitely have an opinion one way or the other. And that’s what they get when they elect me. You know, they exercise their agency when they elect me. I wasn’t trying to hide the baggage.

Kate Hall: Do you seek inspiration while making these decisions regarding public policy?

Rusty Bowers: I do. I can’t say that on every question. When we go on the floor, sometimes we’ll have, at the end of session, we’ll have fifty, sixty, seventy bills to vote on. And all of them have some level of importance to somebody in the room. And some have a huge level of importance to everybody in the room. Some of the things I pray about, like what do I do here? And other things I look at champions who are schooled in hospital administration or have come from some area that I looked at them as a knowledgeable figure. And usually when the inspiration is needed, there’s a person involved. There’s an issue with a member or some kind of ill will. Or something to try to remedy and to bring two parties together and talk to each other. And I will usually offer a little prayer to give me some element of wisdom, should the Lord see fit. To make the right choice. To help. In the mornings my wife and I pray together. She prays for me. She’s probably more interested in the legislature than I am. I feel sorry for her. But we’ll pray that I’ll make the right decisions.

And there have been times when a bill will come up, a thought will come up in some context, not always during the vote but in our discussion. And a little thought will come to my mind, something from fifteen years ago, and I’ll say, “Didn’t I remember X?” And the staff goes, “We’ll look it up.” And so off goes my staff, and they come back to you, “It’s right. You did. This happened.” And I’ve seen it happen to others as well. So the idea that the Holy Ghost can bring all things to your memory is something I, especially as old as I’m getting, means more all the time. Just to think of anything and remember anything is our grant—the Holy Ghost will grant any power. Just help me remember. And others also of other faiths. And these are sweet memories. They have walked in and said, “I’d like to pray over you. You’re going to need it.” And I say, “Have at it.” And they’ll offer a prayer that I would be blessed to be led, to make the right choices, and for those things I’m very grateful. There are a sizable number of my peers for whom religion is also an active part of their service. And then there are other groups. The African American clergy have come and met. They asked if they could pray for me. And I said, “I’m honored. Please.” And they all stood up—there’s like fourteen of them—and made a circle with me in the middle. And they all put their hands on my shoulders or my back or head. And then one by one, went around the circle and prayed for me. And so I felt uplifted. I’m grateful where I’m given an opportunity to benefit from and to help benefit others through praying for inspiration. And the Lord—he knows everything. I have no question about him knowing everything. But hopefully, and I mean hope in the sense of Romans 5:1–5 where hope comes from experience, hope has been shown, and through faith great things came from that hope. And that experience has taught me that, in a hopeful way, we can accomplish good things. And so that’s why I pray for inspiration.

Kate Hall: Do you believe that Latter-day Saints can belong to different political parties and still be faithful members of the church?

Rusty Bowers: Of course, I do. I’m a Republican. I don’t happen to like most Republicans, but I’m a Republican. Most of my friends in the legislature are Democrats. I don’t believe what they believe on certain issues, but they seem to be more—they’re just nicer. Now, I’ve got some nice Republican friends—they’re wonderful. But I’ve got some that I can tell you, if I have to be a Republican like them to get into the celestial kingdom, I’m going to be hanging with the Democrats a lot. I mean, I’m gonna be lobbying to get more Democrats to, you know, pass the test, whatever it is—I say facetiously. But I have Democratic friends who are members of the church. And as we whittle away and become more worldly in our Republican platform, I’ll be less inclined to be a Republican. And as I mentioned, I’m more of a utopian Zionist than I am a Republican. So I’ll grant them some grace, and I hope they grant me some grace.

Kate Hall: What lessons have you learned about politics that you’d like to share with young Latter-day Saints considering an involvement in politics or a career in government?

Rusty Bowers: Horace Greeley said, “Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, and riches take wings. Only one thing endures and that is character.” A test of character came for me in the wake of the 2020 presidential election when members of my party caucus in the Arizona House wanted me to not certify the electors for Joe Biden. They wanted me to say the Democratic Party electors could not be certified to vote for Biden because there was sufficient doubt about whether Biden won Arizona.

At this time, I got a call from President [Donald] Trump and his lawyer, Rudy Giuliani. They wanted me to appoint a special committee and allow them to present evidence to that committee that the election was fraudulent. With that evidence, we could then say we would not certify the election.

I asked, “Mr. President, have you got proof to show me?” They said yes. I told Giuliani to show me that evidence. I told them, “You are asking me to overturn an election without proof. I can’t do that. You are asking me to do something that is beyond my oath. I will not do that.” That was the gist of my conversation. It was ten minutes long.

From that point, things went really bad for me. There were pressure tactics, intimidation, calls for my removal through a recall election. It kept getting bigger and bigger.

My point is that real questions of character come very quick. There is not a lot of time to decide. On that phone call, I told the president, “I will do nothing illegal for you.” That took three seconds. I didn’t have a day to consider it. It was right now. Real questions of character don’t give you lead time. You either have character and you say no, or you are Jell-O.

There are so many times in scripture and in the teachings of prophets and apostles, it’s, “Where is your heart?” And I think that’s the thing. It’s like, if my spirit left, my body would die. What keeps my spirit alive? Is it what it enjoyed before the spirit world? That deepest life source of heart or intelligence or whatever it is will dictate most of what we will do. And most of what we desire. If we can’t achieve it, at least we desire it. And if going into politics meant that you have to be like other people that dominate the scene, the loud, the ruckus, that bend to the base, whatever that is, I would suggest don’t do it. If the heart says that they feel that there is a good that they can do, they will have to go through a whole lot of bad stuff in order to do the good. And so the grays will be their life. But there will be good that they can do. And it may not have anything to do with politics. It may be the person that sat next to them. It’s usually a person. It’s a personal thing of whatever we do in life, how we do it, if we do it according to our faith, if we’re driven and we perform according to the virtues that we know are true. And I think that there’s good that they can do. They can do good. I know that I have been able to do good, and I’ve heard it recognized, but I also know that I’ve blown it more than once. And so, as is in this life, by the time you’re experienced, you’re usually unemployed, and that’s just how life is.