To defeat Donald Trump, he must persuade Christian conservatives that he’s a better fighter for their causes.
To defeat Donald Trump, he must persuade Christian conservatives that he’s a better fighter for their causes.
I n the wake of the recent midterms, many conservatives — including here at National Review — are arguing that Ron DeSantis, not Donald Trump, is the man of the moment and should be the party’s nominee in the 2024 presidential election.
Perhaps. But if DeSantis does intend to challenge Trump, he must convince conservative Christians — particularly white Evangelical Protestants, who made up almost half of the GOP electorate in the 2012 and 2016 primaries — to support his cause.
DeSantis would seem well-suited to the task. He has taken a strong stance on many of the social issues that matter most to Evangelicals: This year alone, he stood up against LGBTQ indoctrination in schools and signed a bill banning abortion after 15 weeks of gestation (in a state where 56 percent of adults say abortion should be legal in all or most cases); most recently, at his urging, state medical boards banned puberty blockers and transgender surgery for minors. Moreover, from the perspective of many Evangelicals who were skeptical of the Covid regime, DeSantis’s record during the pandemic — on everything from lockdowns to the vaccines — is superior to Trump’s.
And all of this ignores character. Between his three marriages, his lewd comments about groping women, and his friendship with Hugh Hefner, Trump was always an odd champion for the Moral Majority. DeSantis, on the other hand, has avoided scandal so far and cultivated a family-man public image that Evangelicals might find appealing.
That said, Trump doesn’t get enough credit for his efforts to win over the Evangelical vote. In August 2018, for example, Trump hosted a dinner with roughly 100 Evangelical leaders — including televangelist Paula White, senior pastor of First Baptist Dallas Robert Jeffress, Liberty University president Jerry Falwell Jr., Franklin Graham, and others — honoring them for “all the good work they do.” More than currying the favor of Evangelical leaders, though, Trump also joined their ranks, telling Religion News Service in October 2020: “Though I was confirmed at a Presbyterian church as a child, I now consider myself to be a non-denominational Christian.” And finally, Trump chose politicians from Evangelical backgrounds for key positions in his administration, most notably Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and Vice President Mike Pence.
Trump was rewarded with overwhelming support from Evangelicals in both his presidential bids, winning 61 percent of their vote in 2016 and 69 percent in 2020, according to Pew. What is less certain, however, is why they did so and whether they are still wedded to him politically.
They might not be. Since his defeat in 2020, Trump has made several moves that could jeopardize his grip on the Evangelical vote (or certain segments of it — it’s not a monolith by any means) in a primary. The chaos of January 6 represents the most obvious example, but it is not the only one. In 2021, for instance, Trump hosted the Log Cabin Republicans, an organization dedicated to representing LGBT conservatives, at his Mar-a-Lago resort for their annual “Spirit of Lincoln” dinner — a gesture that didn’t sit well with some on the religious Right — and is hosting them again next month. Trump has also attacked Pompeo and Pence — former Evangelical allies who are both considering their own bids for the Republican nomination in 2024 — complaining in October that it would be “very disloyal” for members of his administration to run against him.
Whether DeSantis can take advantage of any ensuing ill will toward Trump, though, and make inroads with this key demographic, remains to be seen. To do so, the Florida governor will have to convince Evangelicals not only that he’s got their backs, but also that Trump doesn’t.
The former is difficult but doable. DeSantis has shown that he’s solid — perhaps even more so than Trump — on key issues of concern to this group. He’s also proven his “fighter” credentials. To win over Evangelicals, he will have to make more direct appeals to them as well as keep his name in the headlines. His recent “God made a fighter” ad is an attempt to do both. The fact that elites in Washington cringed at and criticized the commercial was a mark in its favor in terms of convincing Evangelicals that DeSantis will fight for them.
But would DeSantis’s “fighter” brand have the same appeal if he shifted his focus from the Left to Trump? It seems doubtful. Over the last 50 years (a time when Evangelicals have supposedly been at the peak of their political power), American culture has shifted from having a positive view of Christianity to a neutral view to an increasingly negative, hostile one. Consequently, Evangelicals today are understandably skeptical of elites, even (and perhaps especially) of Christian-conservative elites who are wont to lecture them about why supporting Trump is a moral outrage. Evangelicals not only blame these figures for failing to prevent the degradation of Christian culture in the United States, but see their laser focus on criticizing Trump — when there are so many other issues to focus on — as a total betrayal.
In the coming months, some may advise DeSantis to conduct a full-frontal assault on Trump. But they’d be wrong to do so. By directly attacking Trump, DeSantis would risk being perceived as looking down on the Evangelicals who support him. Moreover, the former president has proven his ability, time and again, to strengthen his base by doubling down in the face of criticism.
For DeSantis, though, the good news is that attacking Trump isn’t the only way to defeat him. If DeSantis can bear the brunt of Trump’s threats and stay focused on the issues at hand, he will have the chance to not only beat the former president but fulfill the promise that made Trump attractive to Evangelicals in the first place: the reshaping of America’s political landscape.
Certainly, this course carries its own risks, and the Florida governor must be careful not to allow Trump’s bullying or mocking to go unanswered. But, if his victory speech last Tuesday night is any indication, it appears to be the path that DeSantis is choosing.
Just days before Election Day, Trump deployed the derisive nickname “Ron DeSanctimonious” at a rally in Pennsylvania. And just hours before voting started, the former president said that, if DeSantis runs for president, he will tell the press “things about him that won’t be very flattering.” Yet DeSantis in his victory speech never mentioned Trump. Instead, he focused on his accomplishments and paraphrased 2 Timothy 4:7, saying: “I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race in this first term, and I have kept the faith.”
Written from a jail cell in Rome where he was awaiting execution, 2 Timothy is a deeply personal letter from the Apostle Paul to his “true son in the faith,” Timothy. In the letter, Paul encourages Timothy to “join with me in suffering” and “be a good soldier of Christ Jesus.” In the verse DeSantis quotes from, Paul reflects on his own martyrdom, anticipating his heavenly reward. The verse immediately following begins, “Now there is a crown waiting for me. It is given to those who are right with God.”
In choosing this verse, DeSantis must understand that if he is to wear the crown, he has to bear the cross. And in the coming months, his ability to do that faithfully could determine the fate of the Republican primary.
These midterms may well have indicated that “God wants Ron DeSantis to be president,” as Ross Douthat suggested on Election Night. But only time will tell whether God and God’s people want the same thing. They often don’t.