Since his inauguration, DeSantis has played against type, calling for a sharp increase in funding to protect the Everglades and to mitigate the effects of climate change, even as he remains studiously neutral on its causes; touting the diversity of his senior appointments, and claiming in particular that “if you look at my total appointments, I don’t think there’s any peer recently, at least in Florida, of the number of African Americans we’ve put in”; and adopting a more permissive posture with respect to the regulation of medical marijuana than his predecessor.
He’s chosen a rising Florida Democrat, state Representative Jared Moskowitz, to head Florida’s all-important Division of Emergency Management. Even his more conventional appointments seem geared toward broadening his electoral coalition. For example, DeSantis named an erstwhile rival, former Florida House Speaker Richard Corcoran, to serve as his education commissioner, perhaps out of a belief that Corcoran’s advocacy for K–12 scholarship programs and the expansion of high-performing charter schools would consolidate his support among “school-choice moms.” And he’s given his Cuban American lieutenant governor, Jeanette Núñez, a former state lawmaker from South Florida and a close ally of Rubio’s known for her more moderate stance, a very visible role, as if to signal that he’s not all sharp edges.
One could chalk up DeSantis’s rhetorical shift to the simple fact that governing a sprawling, diverse state poses a different set of challenges than representing a conservative congressional district. But there’s more to it than that. Rather than simply react to new political currents, as he did when he embraced the Tea Party moment and, later, when he climbed aboard the #TrumpTrain, DeSantis is now trying to anticipate what will come next. Though campaigning as a Trumpist was enough to secure him a razor-thin margin of victory, Florida voters seem to want a pragmatic problem-solver who can deliver better public services at a lower cost, all while preserving the wonders of Florida’s natural environment. To ensure his future political success, DeSantis has wisely decided to move in that direction.
This isn’t to suggest that DeSantis has forgotten his conservative base. Despite the power of Florida’s agriculture and tourism industries, he is forging ahead on a statewide E-Verify mandate and legislation curbing sanctuary jurisdictions, both of which he championed on the campaign trail. Though immigration advocates insist that E-Verify will damage the prospects of minority workers, regardless of their legal status, restrictionists point to tentative evidence that it might instead slightly boost the prospects of workers of Latin American origin with legal status, a possibility of great relevance to Florida’s large and growing Latino electorate, which has recently grown through an influx of working-class Puerto Ricans.
In short, as Trump continues to fixate on a border wall, DeSantis is choosing to focus on a more substantive policy that he’s pitching as a curb on unscrupulous employers, and he’s doing it with at least part of Florida’s Cuban American establishment in his corner. In time, DeSantis could try to carve out a position on the issue that is even more swing-state-friendly—more effective workplace enforcement, but less of a fixation on the wall; an increased emphasis on skilled immigration, but a greater willingness to budge on amnesty for the long-resident, unauthorized-immigrant population—an approach that will look increasingly attractive if Trump’s political fortunes continue to decline, and if a Democrat is inaugurated as president in 2021. Something tells me that DeSantis is prepared for this eventuality.