This column originally appeared at National Review.
Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear’s national star is rising. He’s now considered a Democratic presidential contender for 2028. In January, he was on the international stage after joining a panel at the Davos World Economic Forum. His peers elected him to lead the Democratic Governors Association in 2026. He was on the short list to be Kamala Harris’s running mate.
Last year, Beshear started a PAC called In This Together to help Democratic candidates in other states. Now Beshear is being touted as the future of the Democratic Party, largely because he’s a two-term Democratic governor in a deep red state. But scratch the surface and you’ll find a committed leftist, who, considering the current political trend in the commonwealth, arguably got elected on an anomaly.
What kind of politician is Andy Beshear? And why have his favorability numbers been so high? He told the crowd at Davos that he’s “not liberal, not conservative, but pragmatic.” Conveniently stated (but untrue). Beshear comes from a polished political family with deep connections across the state. His father was Kentucky’s attorney general and a two-term governor. Access to the family rolodex helps. In his first run for governor, Beshear was fond of quoting scripture on the campaign trail and reminded voters that he was the grandson and great-grandson of Baptist preachers. He juxtaposed his kinder, gentler approach with pugnacious and acerbic Republican incumbent Matt Bevin. Beshear eked out a 5,000-vote win in 2019.
Since then, he has governed from the radical left. And he has done it with a smile. Beshear’s empathy meter registers off the scale. During the 2020 Covid crisis, he gave live daily briefings in which he ingratiated himself with voters in their living rooms every day for 16 months. Some have called Beshear the Mr. Rogers of Kentucky politics. He has a disarming vibe that conveys “Hello friend. How are you doing? Can I help you today?” and that has won over those weary of smash-mouth politics. Two devastating natural disasters put Beshear and his empathy in the spotlight: deadly tornadoes in 2021 that claimed 80 lives and demolished downtown Mayfield; and devastating floods in 2022 that claimed 45 lives and damaged or destroyed more than 8,500 homes. He showed up to disaster sites regularly, offered compassion, and brought help — all things good governors do in a time of crisis.
Kentucky voters awarded Beshear a second term in 2023 by a five-point margin over Republican Attorney General Daniel Cameron. Beshear’s nearly 7–1 fundraising advantage, and good will with teachers and older voters in the commonwealth, secured a win. He touted Kentucky’s economic growth — never mind that the growth stems from GOP-enacted policies (right to work, paycheck protection, and reducing the state income tax) that Beshear has opposed. In 2022, he vetoed Kentucky’s income tax reduction bill.
During the 2023 campaign, Beshear blamed Cameron for invoking culture-war issues. Beshear practiced big-tent politics and ran on the theme that we are “all God’s children.” Early in his time as governor, he included himself in a group photo with the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, which mocks Christianity with sexualized performances. The U.S. Catholic Conference of Bishops called the group “blasphemous.”
Beshear taps into a widely received version of the Christian faith. He talks about the Golden Rule, loving your neighbor, and affording compassion to the least of these. It’s appealing. It’s hopeful. But baptizing policy positions with Bible verses doesn’t make it Christian. And it’s hardly Christian to twist abortion as compassion or condem those who oppose males playing on girls’ sports teams. It has irked many believers in the Bluegrass to see Bible passages cherry-picked to support preferred policy positions that support what most Christians understand as immoral.
Such was the case last Saturday, when Beshear spoke at the Kentucky Fairness Campaign’s annual dinner. He decried a bill overturning his executive order mandating that the only counsel state-certified counselors could give LGBTQ-identifying youth was to embrace their self-identified sexual identity. Any other counsel could lead to revocation of their state license. After the event, he said on X: “I’m going to keep fighting for what’s right — and that’s loving thy neighbor.” The bill also banned the use of Medicaid funds for gender transitions. Beshear pulled out his pen and vetoed it on the spot. The gesture made for high political drama and boisterous cheers. But it did little to advance the common good in the commonwealth.
Beshear’s advocacy of leftist ideology is on par with governors in the bluest of states, including California’s Gavin Newsom. Earlier this month, Beshear vetoed a bill banning DEI in higher ed. He vetoed a bill to clarify what abortion is and what it isn’t. He has vetoed every abortion restriction, including the Born Alive Act in 2020, which would protect the lives of children who survived an abortion. (He allowed the law to go into effect in 2021 without his signature.)
According to a CNN poll, the Democratic Party’s approval rating is at an all-time low of 29 percent. It has dropped 20 points since 2021. It’s not a stretch to say that pushing gender ideology in public schools, DEI politics that treat people differently based on beliefs and skin color, and abortion extremism explain why voters are rejecting the Democratic brand. Yet Beshear somehow got a pass, at least in the Bluegrass State.
With a smile, and an abundance of empathy, he convinced enough Kentuckians that “he feels their pain,” not unlike another Southern governor who was catapulted into the presidency in 1992. But Andy Beshear is no Bill Clinton. Even though he’s young, articulate, and convincingly executes the basic functions of government, the similarities end there. His commitment to radical ideology is a universe apart from Clinton’s in the 1990s. In 2022, he vetoed the Fairness in Women’s Sports Act, which would preserve women’s sports by keeping males off their teams. In 2023, he vetoed a bill protecting gender-confused minors from puberty blockers, hormone therapy, and transition surgeries. Beshear is doubling down on his brand of identity politics wrapped in liberal theology, and he insists that we should follow suit if we “truly love our neighbor.” What nonsense.
Beshear recently took a shot at California Governor Gavin Newsom for hosting conservative firebrands such as Charlie Kirk, Michael Savage, and Steve Bannon on his podcast. Newsom, another 2028 presidential contender, appears to be pivoting to the middle. He now says it’s “deeply unfair” for girls to compete with boys in sports, and admits that transgender issues are crushing Democrats. However modest these concessions are, Newsom is taking serious heat from the left. But he’s at least interested in having conversations with conservatives and trying to figure out why middle America sent Trump to the White House. Beshear has done neither.
Higher aspirations aside, Beshear should realize that state elections are vastly different from national ones. This governor of a red state could win a Democratic presidential primary. But if he continues to champion positions that drive reasonable people out of his party (Kentucky voter registration went majority Republican in 2022), he will not carry his own state on a Democratic presidential ticket in the general election, as Al Gore failed to carry his home state of Tennessee in his bid for president in 2000. Such a result would be a disappointment to the Democrats’ left wing, but a sigh of relief for middle America, which appears exhausted with wokeism.
