Utah’s Governor Spencer Cox Has a Lot of Explaining to Do

B y most accounts, Utah is a deep-red state. Its Cook Partisan Voting Index currently sits at R+20, making it the second-most-Republican state in the country. It’s tied with Oklahoma, and outflanked only by Wyoming’s R+25 rating. But Spencer Cox, the state’s first-term Republican governor, has consistently toed a socially liberal line on many cultural issues that is wildly out of step with Utah’s deeply conservative voter base. As I wrote in March:

In 2019, Cox — then Utah’s lieutenant governor — tearfully apologized to LGBT activists for the collapse of a proposed ban on conversion therapy. In early 2021, Cox came out in support of the Fairness For All Act, a Republican bill in the U.S. House that has been the subject of fierce social-conservative criticism for its attempt to write sexual orientation and gender identity into federal civil-rights law. Around the same time, he threatened to veto a proposed ban on gender-transition surgeries for minors, saying, “We have to be really careful any time government gets in between doctors and families and patients.” (That bill, HB 92, stalled out in the state legislature before reaching Cox’s desk.)

The governor has been open about working closely with LGBT activist groups during negotiations over transgender legislation in his state. Last year, the executive director of Equality Utah, a state-based LGBT advocacy group, praised the Republican as “a true champion for LGBTQ youth.” When the ban on transgender athletes was initially floated in February 2021, Cox expressed concerns, echoing the activist line that transgender “kids are just trying to stay alive” while neglecting to cite any substantive evidence that the legislation would put transgender children’s lives in danger.

The discrepancy between Cox and his state on social issues came to a head most recently when the governor vetoed a ban on males in girls’ sports. In the lead-up to his veto, he wrote on Facebook,

We care deeply about Utah’s female athletes and our LGBTQ+ community. To those hurting tonight: It’s going to be OK. We’re going to help you get through this. Please reach out if you need help.

Once again, he was echoing the language of the left-wing activist groups arguing that the legislation was “harmful” to transgender youth. A few days after his post, the Utah legislature overrode Cox’s veto by a resounding margin of 56 to 18 in the house and 21 to 8 in the senate. The override votes took less than 30 minutes.

Yesterday, Cox became the subject of controversy yet again, when a video surfaced of the governor introducing his “gender pronouns” during a student town hall. “My preferred pronouns are he, him, his,” Cox said with a smile, before going on to remark that “leading with equity and inclusion starts at a young age.”

This isn’t the first time that Cox has used gender pronouns. Until recently, his official Instagram page listed his pronouns as “he/him.” Notably, the “he/him” description disappeared from his account after his veto of the women’s-sports bill was met with a strong backlash.

These aren’t isolated incidents. In the context of Cox’s broader record, they suggest genuine enthusiasm for the “diversity, equity, and inclusion” ideology that has characterized Cox’s governorship since its earliest days. On January 4, 2021 — three days after he took office — Cox signed the “Utah Compact on Racial Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion,” which argued that racism is “more than just an individual character flaw.” Rather, it’s “a system of ideas, beliefs, practices, structures, and policies that give some people greater opportunity to be fully human and live a happier and healthier life than others.” Moreover, “unraveling centuries of internalized and systemic racism requires bold anti-racist actions and policies right now.” It was the first document that he signed as governor.

Around the same time, Cox released a 500-day policy blueprint, dubbed the “One Utah Roadmap,” which promised a “statewide health equity plan charged to evaluate systemic changes that address health disparities.” The blueprint included a section on “equality and opportunity” that called for improving “life outcomes for people with historically and systemically less access to opportunity, including women, people of color, and LGBTQIA+ individuals.”

“We recognize the unique inequities and varied experiences found within Black, Indigenous, Latino/x, Asian, Middle Eastern, Pacific Islander, and multiracial communities,” the blueprint stated. “We commit to creating initiatives that acknowledge the history of our state and nation, the disproportionate outcomes across systems, and the intersectional identities of our community members.”

The blueprint’s “equality and opportunity” section also pledged to appoint the state’s first “equality and opportunity advisor” — a promise that Cox quickly delivered on, tapping Nubia Peña to serve as Utah’s “Senior Advisor on Equity and Opportunity.” (The notable shift from “equality” to “equity” was not explained.) Cox’s website details that Peña’s “mission is to promote an inclusive climate for Utah’s growing diverse community,” which includes “facilitat[ing] dialogues among local and national leaders on complex topics of inclusion and racial justice, working to create equitable access in services and resources for historically disenfranchised communities.”

In October 2021, Cox’s office released a progress report on its equity agenda, outlining — among other initiatives — the implementation of a training program that took members of the administration

through twenty-one days of core concepts on equity, equality, race, inclusion, the intersectional Utah story, healing and reconciliation, empathy, and Inclusive Excellence leadership principles, which can help us build a foundation that is strong and robust enough to help advance our equity and opportunity work forward.

All that comes on top of numerous comments Cox has made signaling his affinity for left-wing “equity” ideology. When asked whether he thought that the Utah Jazz scholarship program’s exclusion of white children was “racist,” for example, Cox answered, “Well, I don’t think it’s racist. In fact, I think it’s in response to, unfortunately, some very difficult and racist injustices that have happened in our community for a long time.”

Based on this record, it’s fair to conclude that Cox is a red-state leader who is not just weak on cultural issues; he is enthusiastically siding with the Left. His short time in office has been characterized by a pedal-to-the-metal zeal for many of the most corrosive and radical aspects of left-wing cultural ideology, even as many other red states begin to mount a serious counteroffensive. The governor isn’t up for reelection until 2024, so talk of a primary challenge is likely premature. But Utah voters should be paying attention. If he hopes to earn their support again, he has a lot of explaining to do.