Ted Cruz’s preacher problem

In practice, this can be lethal. Late last year, I attended an event at which both Marco Rubio and Ted Cruz were scheduled to speak. Going in, the audience seemed infinitely more excited about the latter. Rubio, I was told, was finished — a “traitor” and a “turncoat.” Cruz, meanwhile, was the golden boy. At the drinks reception afterwards, however, a good number of minds seemed to have been changed. “Rubio talks to you,” one attendee explained; “Cruz seemed to lecture.” This is an anecdote, I will grant. But it reminded me of the age-old observation that it is one thing to be the smartest man in the room, but that it is quite another to behave as if you know it.

And make no mistake: Ted Cruz is very often the smartest man in the room. We are dealing here, remember, with a man who has been described by his former professor Alan Dershowitz as “off-the-charts brilliant,” and who spends his free time publishing “scholarly essays on constitutional law.” We are dealing here with a man who has enjoyed a stellar career as a litigator; a man who won the “Best Brief Award by the National Association of Attorneys General (NAAG), for U.S. Supreme Court briefs in 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, and 2007”; a man who has argued superbly before the Supreme Court on nine separate occasions. We are dealing here with a man who, a few years back, was the youngest solicitor general in the United States; who was “the first Hispanic ever to clerk for the Chief Justice of the United States”; and who managed to get himself into the Senate without ever having held an elected position before. Because they are so fiercely attached to the presumption that there is only one way in which a sensible person can think, progressives tend to have a tough time separating out how much they agree with a given politician and how “educated” or “smart” that politician is likely to be. This, clearly, is a mistake. If you don’t like Ted Cruz, that’s fine. If you think that makes him stupid, you’re a clown.

Still, we do not elect presidents on the basis of their IQ alone; rather, we also take into account a candidate’s policy positions, his likeability, and his relevant experience in government. Over the next few months, Ted Cruz is going to find out whether the remarkable enthusiasm that he has been able to generate within the Republican party’s base can be echoed elsewhere. On the face of it, he looks a fair prospect. Indeed, within a certain voting bloc, Cruz has hitherto done a great deal to cultivate the impression that his name is a synonym for “conservative,” “fighter,” or “winner.” “So you must be supporting Jeb Bush?” Cruz’s fans seem to ask anybody who dares criticize the man. “So you are in favor of Barack Obama’s executive amnesty, then?” “So you don’t want to fight?” Outside of his in-group, however, loaded questions such as these will remain pretty much meaningless. Sure, within the Right’s endless intramural fights, harsh talk about the “establishment” may convince some would-be detractors to stay quiet. But in the real world, in which normal people decide whether they like someone or not and care little about what that means ideologically, it will count for nothing. Thus far, Ted Cruz has proven to be extraordinarily effective at corralling his own people, but far, far less persuasive attempting to convince the Senate to play ball. Is there any particular reason we should expect his campaign to play out differently?