It’s a matter of taste, of course, but many people don’t find Youngkin painful. His approval rating among Virginians is 58%, according to a recent Roanoke College poll. Those who recoil from his rhetorical contradictions and the obvious calculations behind them are heavily concentrated here around the state capitol: lawmakers who resent what they see as his unseemly haste to pursue national ambitions , or local journalists stiffened by a governor who doesn’t care. on their questions.

When politicians can play both sides of the keyboard – sounding notes of grievance and aspiration with equal ease – they often go a long way. This spring will likely force Youngkin to decide how far and how fast he wants to try to go. Should he run for President, even though he was only elected governor, his first foray into politics, less than a year and a half ago?

The reasons for being skeptical are quite simple. Republican donors and the operative class who want to lift Trump out of their misery for good — the people Youngkin will need if he runs — fear the field of candidates will grow too broad, splitting the anti-Trump vote. The biography of Youngkin, a wealthy private equity executive known for his serious religiosity, conveys a superficial resemblance to Mitt Romney. The 2012 candidate was a natural establishment and may have won suburban independents that Donald Trump never could – but barely enough to make up for his lack of populist energy.

The reasons Youngkin could win over voters Romney couldn’t — and be an intriguing addition to the field — are more complex. Republicans are divided on the issue of division. Do people want to end the politics of conflict and pomp represented by Trump and his former protege, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis? Or did the Democrats’ exploitation of alleged cultural and ideological excesses pave the way for President Joe Biden’s defeat? The potential appeal of Youngkin is that there’s no need to decide – just say yes to both questions.

On the face of it, Youngkin has captured national attention for one main reason: He has shown he can tap into the coalition of voters who love Donald Trump without having his own reputation and candidacy hijacked by the former president. His success seemed fueled in large measure by the national political climate and the self-inflicted wounds of his normally skilled opponent, former Governor Terry McAuliffe.

At first glance, it seems clear that Youngkin’s rise owes more than just a confluence of circumstances. In terms of political skills, he is clearly as talented as other Republicans who hope to prevent Trump’s return as the party’s nominee next year — but talented in different ways. In the short term, Youngkin has many obstacles. Should he overcome them on his way to the GOP nomination, McAuliffe’s experience leaves no doubt that he would be a formidable challenger to President Joseph Biden or another Democratic nominee.

The contrast with DeSantis is revealing. The Florida governor’s rise was fueled in large measure by his zeal for the cultural and ideological selection of strikebreakers, such as his battles with the Walt Disney Company over the state’s bill banning public schools to discuss sexual orientation or gender identity before fourth grade. The call is essentially Trumpism without Trump.

Youngkin, too, regularly wades into the cultural politics swirling around public education, including topics such as whether schools teach racial history. He tagged local high schools in Northern Virginia for being slow to tell students they had won merit-based scholarships, allegedly because school officials believed it violated principles of fairness. During his election, he fought with Loudoun County school officials over their handling of the sexual assault of a student in a girl’s bathroom by a classmate wearing a skirt. . Like DeSantis, he often takes to favored platforms like Fox News to talk about these issues.

Unlike DeSantis, however, he also pivots at other times to look like a Republican version of Bill Clinton’s 1990s centrism. He says the GOP must avoid exclusionary rhetoric and ideological litmus tests. “What I had seen in Virginia, and I think I see across this country, is that we actually have to bring people into the Republican Party, we have to be additive, not [rely on] subtraction.” (For more on Youngkin’s interview, see my colleague Daniel Lippman’s report.)

At a time when many politicians point out mobilization — inflaming voters who are already natural supporters with grievance-based appeals — Youngkin said his experience shows politicians must also revive the art of persuasion.

Virginia is a state where most statewide races have had a Democratic lean in recent years. “People thought it was purple,” Youngkin said, but actually “it was pretty damn blue. might never have voted for a Republican in their lives.

The reality is that Youngkin is less an updated version of Mitt Romney and more of someone who became president, George W. Bush. Seemingly by chance rather than design, what Youngkin articulates sounds a lot like “compassionate conservatism,” the credo that got Bush elected in 2000 and then rolled back when he became wartime president after 9/11 and the war in Iraq. This is reflected in Youngkin’s high-profile advocacy for improved state mental health services — “No one has been spared this crisis” — and a state partnership with the impoverished and majority city. black of Petersburg, just south of the capital.

Like Bush early in his national career, Youngkin combines a wealthy elite background with an affable jockish sensibility — Youngkin played Division I basketball at Rice — that helps populist messaging. As with Bush, his political personality is intimately linked to a manifestly sincere, though conspicuous, religiosity. “Can I say grace real quick?” he asked in a recent interview. Assured by his more secular visitors that all was well, he prayed aloud a minute-long prayer to the Heavenly Father, thanking him for the meal of fried chicken tacos and seeking his blessing for the “General Assembly members and the work that we are about to do”. .”

As he ponders a presidential race, Youngkin presumably seeks guidance from a higher power than political reporters. Even so, the political press has an obvious stake in his response: A Youngkin candidacy would be an entertaining addition to the 2024 race. And it would test the hypothesis that there is a future for a brand of GOP politics that lies somewhere share between the nihilism of Trumpism and the pallor of Romneyism.