By Rich
Lowry
Monday,
July 31, 2023
Of all
the advantages that Donald Trump has in the competition for the 2024 Republican
nomination — immediate past president, ability to generate enormous media
attention, etc. — perhaps foremost among them is the fact that other Republican
candidates are afraid of him.
It’s
hard to think of anyone who has ever won a major-party nomination while showing
fear, especially of someone else in the field.
A
successful candidate might be careful around certain issues or constituencies,
or back off an unpopular position. But being clearly scared by an opponent is
something else, entirely. George W. Bush and John McCain might have hated or
disdained each other, same with McCain and Mitt Romney, or Romney and Newt
Gingrich. But no one was ever clearly, demonstrably afraid.
Until
now.
When
asked about Trump, most of the candidates might not actually lick their lips,
or swallow hard, or begin to blink faster, but you wouldn’t be surprised if
they did. Generally, they’ll evade questions, reject the premise, or revert to
an answer that has been as carefully crafted as an official statement by one of
the parties to negotiations over the Paris Peace Accords.
You can
almost see them thinking:
Maybe
he’ll leave me alone.
Maybe
he’ll make me his veep.
Maybe
there will be a better time to attack him later.
And,
I can’t risk offending his voters.
If they
can help it, his opponents will never say Trump’s name — he’s the most unnamed
major politician in American history. Mike Pence tends to call him “my former
running mate.”
This
means that Donald Trump’s political dominance of the rest of the field extends
to a kind of personal and psychological dominance. They are afraid, and
he’s not.
A key
aspect of the Trump phenomenon from the beginning has been how he’s brought the
subrational element of politics that’s always been there, but usually
relatively submerged, to the fore — more Frans de Waal, author of Chimpanzee
Politics, than Richard Hofstadter; more Dana White than Lee Atwater.
This
raises the possibility that not taking Trump head-on means more than simply
missing the opportunity to make the case against him. It also means implicitly
acknowledging his status as the Big Man of Republican politics, and the rival’s
status as a subordinate player in the world Trump created and rules.
The only
one who’s really not playing this game is Chris Christie, who gives as good as
he gets and also needles Trump and initiates fights against him. If Christie
can achieve a breakout in New Hampshire, it will be based, in part, on winning
points on strength and courage while doing and saying what no one else dares.
(Will Hurd and Asa Hutchison criticize Trump, too, but more politely and
conventionally.)
All that
said, the other candidates are reacting to a genuine conundrum — Republican
voters might be open to an alternative to Trump in theory, but they don’t want
anyone to criticize him. How to square that circle is the biggest challenge for
the rest of the field, at least those members of it genuinely running to win.
To be
fair, Ron DeSantis, as Trump’s main target, has been willing to push back as
necessary, and he makes a constant, implicit critique of Trump’s electoral
prospects and governing abilities. But the Florida governor is always careful
to stay on the right side of the line, biding his time for later or hoping that
his message catches on without having to grasp the nettle. This isn’t
unreasonable, but, again, it exposes a disparity — he has a strategy, while
Trump has a sledgehammer.
So long
as everyone believes that Trump has one and they don’t — and acts accordingly —
the fear factor will continue to work in Trump’s favor.
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