Cruising for a Bruising

The difference between Cruz and most Republican leaders is important. Cruz’s speech at the GOP convention in which he declined to endorse Donald Trump is an example of his approach to politics. He explained his refusal by saying he wouldn’t be a “servile puppy dog” for Trump.

But he wasn’t being pressured to be craven or fawning, much less servile. Ryan and McConnell have endorsed Trump despite disagreements on policy and probably a good bit more. They didn’t grovel. Nor did Governor Scott Walker of Wisconsin or scores of other elected Republicans. Many of them have qualms about Trump’s readiness to be president.

An endorsement is a party obligation, not a blessing. It generates unity, which a political party needs to be successful. Divided parties are vulnerable. And Cruz’s dissent is bound to have a disuniting effect, one that could have consequences on November 8.

The reason is simple. The better Trump does as the Republican presidential nominee, the better GOP candidates are likely to do in down-ticket races. And if Trump defeats Hillary Clinton, other Republican candidates are likely to win too. Widespread ticket splitting, once common, is a thing of the past.

Should Trump lose, he’ll bring some GOP candidates down with him. What’s worse, if he is crushed in a landslide, Republicans will lose control of the Senate, perhaps the House, at least a handful of governorships, and numerous state and local offices. It would be a disaster as big as the Republican collapse in 1964, when presidential nominee Barry Goldwater lost to LBJ, 61 to 39 percent.

A landslide wouldn’t be Cruz’s fault, but he might be blamed for a narrow Trump loss. True, he hasn’t ruled out endorsing Trump at some point. But if he does, it will lack the dramatic impact his refusal had on the convention crowd and a national TV audience.

Trump had invited Cruz to speak at the convention, guessing the Texas senator would provide an endorsement in one form or another. He didn’t come close. He congratulated Trump for winning the nomination, then failed to mention him again.

Instead, Cruz said this near the end of his speech: “To those listening, please, don’t stay home in November. Stand up and speak, and vote your conscience, vote for candidates up and down the ticket who you trust to defend our freedom.”

In his speech, Cruz denounced President Obama and Hillary Clinton and their policies. “There is a better vision for our future,” he said, “a return to freedom.” At some length, he outlined his views—as if he, rather than Trump, had won his party’s presidential nomination. It was presumptuous and self-indulgent.

House Speaker Ryan had spoken the day before Cruz. “Democracy is a series of choices,” he said. “We Republicans have made our choice. Have we had our arguments this year? Sure we have and you know what I call those? Signs of life. .  .  . Next time that there’s a State of the Union address .  .  . you’ll find me right there on the rostrum with Vice President Mike Pence and President Donald Trump.”

Ryan didn’t have the prerogative of dismissing Trump. Ryan is responsible for the political lives of 247 Republicans in the House, at least those running for reelection. This makes him the leader of the Republican team in Congress. Their survival as a Republican majority is his principal mission.

Months before Trump locked up the nomination, Ryan and House GOP leaders decided to create a conservative agenda that Republican candidates could run on—regardless of who won the nomination. This creates the option of pursuing a parallel campaign that has turned out to be a godsend to candidates in districts—the suburbs, for instance—where Trump, his style, and his ideas are unpopular.

This agenda is focused on six issues: health care, tax reform, poverty, national security, the Constitution, and the economy. Legislation is being developed on all six.

Ryan delayed for weeks, but felt as speaker he had to back his party’s nominee. Cruz had no such limitation. Whatever his calculation, it was mistaken. Charles Krauthammer declared his speech “the most public suicide note in American history.” Indeed, it may have been.

If Trump loses to Clinton, it’s not likely to elevate Cruz to the frontrunner for the 2020 Republican nomination. He will have too many enemies. Trump and his followers will still be around. They’ll be angry at Cruz. And Trump will continue to be a fixture on TV, commenting on everything. He’ll find time to attack Cruz. His fans will be active online. They’ll tweet furiously. It will never stop.

Fair or not, Cruz will be seen by the Trump constituency as a spoiler. Yes, he had been provoked by Trump during the primaries. Trump criticized his wife and linked his father to the assassination of John F. Kennedy in Dallas—inexcusable insults. But politically speaking, Cruz would be better off having been less public with his non-endorsement. He could have disclosed it in a venue other than a convention filled with Trump’s most fervent supporters. Or he could have said nothing.

There’s a loose historical precedent for Cruz’s defiance of his party’s nominee. In 1964, New York governor Nelson Rockefeller shunned Barry Goldwater, the GOP nominee. Richard Nixon, who’d lost to JFK in the 1960 race, endorsed Goldwater and campaigned for him.

Both Rockefeller and Nixon wanted to be president. Nixon was elected in 1968. Rockefeller became Gerald Ford’s vice president in 1974, by appointment. Knowing a lot of Republicans didn’t want him on the ticket, he withdrew from consideration before Ford ran for reelection.

Fred Barnes is an executive editor at The Weekly Standard.