Ron DeSantis Does Not Have the Juice

A new humorless, awkward Ivy Leaguer enters the ring.

The speculation and whispers are everywhere: a bare majority of Republican voters want to move on from Trump, and when choosing from a range of alternatives, the favorite is Florida Governor Ron DeSantis.

Seriously?

DeSantis, a hard-right three-term congressman now running for his second term as governor, is the fixation of the chattering class––even relatively mainstream conservative types like the National Review editor Rich Lowry––who believe he is Trump-like enough to attract the base, both in his nationalist policies and his love for vicious elbow-throwing in any hot-button culture war, but manicured enough to not debase the office or risk nuclear war via tweet.

One half of the speculation can be put to bed: based on Trump’s recent speech and interview with Olivia Nuzzi, it sure seems like he’s running again.

And up against Trump, despite everything, Ron DeSantis simply does not have the juice to win a Republican primary.

He has yet to be tested in real time on a big, visible stage––or even asked to seem remotely like a human being. While he is beloved by Fox News and on the network constantly––a 2021 story, for example, reported he was on literally once per day between the 2020 election and Biden’s inauguration, and over 20 times in the first half of 2021––his appearances are softball interviews with Sean Hannity and Laura Ingraham and the Fox & Friends crew where he can wax about his own accomplishments, or lob vitriolic lies at Democrats with no pushback. His other splashy media moments come at press conferences (many of which are open only to conservative media) when he holds the podium.

Relatedly, he’s an awkward, cold presence when out of his comfort zone of speedy bashing of Democrats. Take, for example, an ad from his 2018 gubernatorial campaign which was supposed to strike a lighthearted tone, involving DeSantis (cringe) teaching his newborn child the ways of Trump (“build the wall” he intones as they play with blocks; “Then, Mr. Trump said, ‘You’re fired,’ I love that part” he coos, reading a picture book). The ad is deeply strange, and DeSantis’ negative charisma energy makes it that much worse.

Add that to the accounts in Dexter Filkins’ New Yorker profile, and you start to get a sense of what DeSantis is really like. College peers and Florida politicos alike alternately describe DeSantis as “Best on paper,” “not comfortable engaging with other people,” “a bit of a loner,” “the most selfish person I have ever interacted with,” and “the biggest dick we knew” who “loved embarrassing and humiliating other people.” People describe him as perpetually angry, feeling perpetually on the outside of elite circles who have opportunities given to them, redoubling his need to outwork the opposition. Peers in school (the ultra-pedestrian institutions of Yale University and Harvard Law School) knew him as a quick study and strong writer with a unique point of view on any topic.

Now, being an angry jerk is far from a firing offense in today’s GOP. In fact, an angry, well-read culture warrior Fox News mainstay asshole weirdo with a Harvard Law degree? Sounds a lot like the last guy who was supposed to light up the base and sail to a Republican nomination for president, only to run into the Trump woodchipper: Ted Cruz.

Before Trump got into the race in 2015, Cruz was it: the shit-stirring freshman senator who irritated Republican colleagues as much as Democrats, who caused a 13-day government shutdown for which Republicans got the blame, who reveled in blowing up the very institution in which he served. In early poll after early poll, Cruz was ahead––and even after Trump was neck-and-neck with him by late 2015, Cruz still managed to win the Iowa Caucus (which, according to Trump in a harbinger of things to come, was a fraud).

Cruz was an angry, burn-it-all-down brazen opportunist embracing the most extreme side in any new debate, on policy or the latest culture war––and he was no match for a guy who would say and do anything, about anything, to anyone, with a smile, totally comfortable on camera.

In the end, that was the difference: Trump was having more fun. And given the choice of bitter ambition versus a loudmouth bigot telling rude jokes, Republican voters chose fun.

While DeSantis looks like the new Cruz––not the new Trump––there is one major difference when it comes to 2024: Trump has since been relegated to the inauspicious list of one-term presidents. He is bathed in loser stink. Only twice has a former president run for re-election; only one (Grover Cleveland) was successful. The January 6th hearings and an ongoing federal probe continue to put him both in legal jeopardy and could be a headache for voters they’d rather avoid.

But I’m not convinced those elements (barring Trump being charged with a crime before launching his campaign) could bring him down. When he won the nomination and the election in 2016, he was already known to be a fraud, a cheat, and an arrogant asshole; voters either endorsed it, ignored it, or refused to believe it. And beyond him, the fundamental factors that paved the way for Trump have not shifted.

Republican voters in 2016 wanted a terrorist who made for good TV, the biggest bully they could find––and that was Ted Cruz, until it wasn’t. Their desire for chaos and owning the libs certainly hasn’t changed. Republican voters wanted to watch a political NASCAR crash, and they got one––we’re still living in it.

Imagine Trump and DeSantis on a debate stage––a humorless DeSantis exposed for the first time to tough questions, disparaging remarks from a giddy Trump, and an audience ready for bloodshed. When Trump makes fun of DeSantis’ baggy suit or the fact that he didn’t have friends in college; when Trump calls him Lil’ Ronny or Ron Jr., what will DeSantis do?

Will he really be able to fire back like the crowd wants? Will he make fun of Trump’s dumpy golf attire or point out that Trump’s skin tone matches the orange jumpsuit he’ll wear in prison?  

No, I suspect the angry, awkward, sharp-tongued bookworm will sweat under the lights, struggling under the weight of his own ambition as Trump smirks and the audience laughs along.