Butler galvanized region against hate

Richard Butler’s biggest impact on Idaho may be the opposite of what the white supremacist leader intended – some of the nation’s strongest laws against hate crimes, a well-organized network of highly active human rights groups across the state, and an increasingly diverse population.

“It is surprising how sometimes it takes a look at the dark side in order to organize the bright,” said former state Sen. Mary Lou Reed, who chairs a committee building a human rights center in Coeur d’Alene.

Today, the former compound where Butler propounded his neo-Nazi views is a quiet peace park, where grazing cows and North Idaho College students studying foliage are all that disturb the meadows.

“The next phase or chapter in our history is one in which we’ll have a lot more diversity,” said Tony Stewart, a founding member of the Kootenai County Task Force on Human Relations and a longtime local human rights activist. “We see that happening, which is very enriching for everybody.”

When Butler set up his Aryan Nations group near Hayden, its members shocked the state with bombings, robberies and attacks on minorities, while proclaiming they wanted Idaho to become a new white homeland.

“While there were never huge numbers of white supremacists that Richard Butler attracted, I think what was just absolutely bone-chilling was the fact that these people were violent and had criminal tendencies,” said Marilyn Shuler, the former director of the Idaho Human Rights Commission. “It wasn’t just people with an ideology that we found repugnant, which 99 percent of Idahoans did, but they were on a mission, a quest, and were taking lives in their own hands. And I think Idaho just said no.”

Shuler helped push for strong new laws against malicious harassment. She remembers when Aryan Nations members came to Boise to testify against the bills, and people outside Idaho began identifying the state as the home of white supremacists.

“It was a hard time for us,” she said. “It was an embarrassing time because we didn’t feel that that was who we were, and yet we knew that we weren’t perfect.”

Jim Jones, who as Idaho attorney general pushed for the anti-malicious harassment law, said, “The very fact that it passed had sort of a dampening effect on the bigots and the Butler group and some of the others too.”

“It’s not so much raising the ugly head of bigotry that sticks out in people’s minds, it’s the way that Idahoans reacted to it and rejected it,” Jones added. “You’d have to say that we rose to the occasion, and the people are probably the better for it.”

More legislation followed, from civil penalties for malicious harassment to a state-sanctioned Martin Luther King Jr.-Human Rights Day holiday.

“We ended up with a really fine, fine collection of legislation on the books,” Reed said. “I think it’s still true, though, that you cannot legislate people’s hearts, so I think education continues to be the real answer.”

One of the latest education efforts is the Human Rights Education Institute, which is building a human rights education center in downtown Coeur d’Alene. Already a similar group has built its own education center in Boise, including a popular Anne Frank Human Rights Memorial. And across the state, local groups have organized to speak up for human rights and fight racism and bigotry.

The bombing of Bill Wassmuth’s home in Coeur d’Alene by Aryan Nations members in 1986 helped inspire Wassmuth to form the Northwest Coalition Against Malicious Harassment, which became the Northwest Coalition for Human Dignity. The group monitored hate groups and led Northwest efforts to spread tolerance.

Wassmuth died two years ago of Lou Gehrig’s disease.

Raymond Reyes, vice president for diversity at Gonzaga University, praised Wassmuth and Stewart for rising to the challenge of the Aryan Nations.

“It’s easy to have the reaction, ‘Oh, good he’s dead,’ ” Reyes said, “But Butler’s legacy continues. … Now our challenge is to define the next step. How can we institutionalize diversity?”

Mark Potok, director of the Southern Poverty Law Center’s Intelligence Project – formerly Klan Watch – said the Aryan Nations may have been one of the last big racist groups with compounds. The Internet has made such compounds obsolete, he said.

“Nazis and skinheads don’t have to hang around together anymore,” he said.

The Intelligence Project does not expect the Aryan Nations to immediately fall apart, though there is no obvious heir apparent to Butler. Potok said the supremacist group has managed to hold together by computer and telephone from Butler’s home since he lost his compound in North Idaho.

“It is quite likely the Aryan Nations will be run by committee,” Potok said. “A battle may develop over leadership.”

In 2003, there were 22 chapters of the Aryan Nations in 21 states, Potok said. That number has dropped to 17 chapters. Nationwide, he said there are only about 200 Aryan Nations members, not including Charles Juba’s faction in Leola, Pa., with fewer than a half dozen members.

Potok said things don’t look too good for the long-term future of the Aryan Nations. “All they had was the legacy of Richard Butler to hold them together,” he said.

Butler’s death helps speed up the atrophy of the Nazi Party movement in the Northwest, said Norm Gissel, a longtime Kootenai County Task Force on Human Relations member and part of the legal team that helped bankrupt the Aryan Nations.

“There’s just nobody with the energy, drive and focus that I see out there that could even begin to lead such an unpopular entity and raise the numbers,” Gissel said. “After 30 years of postulating, (the Aryans) came up with nothing.”

Community leaders also pointed to Butler’s unsuccessful run for mayor of Hayden last year, when a record turnout in the city gave him just 50 votes out of more than 2,000.

“He stirred a lot of hearts and I hope this is the end of an era,” said Hayden Mayor Ron McIntire, who overwhelmingly defeated Butler. “I just hope with him gone we have a little bit of peace in the Hayden area. It’s not been good for Hayden’s reputation.”

Even with Butler’s passing, the need for vigilance continues, said Rob Jacobs, Northwest regional director of the Anti-Defamation League: “The philosophy that he put forward still exists. It is a continuous process to try to respond to hate and the potential for violence. Human nature being what it is, there are always those that need to hate somebody to make them feel better about themselves. We don’t expect that to change anytime soon.”

Gonzaga’s Reyes believes the name future generations will remember will be not Butler, but Wassmuth.

“It’s not how they died, it’s how they lived,” he said. “Whose legacy will outlive the other? Right now, I’d bet on Bill Wassmuth’s.”