I’ve never watched the show “Survivor,” but I am reliably informed that one of the primary strategies employed by its contestants is forming alliances.
Two or three often like-minded (or at least similarly-motivated) people work together to fend off other serious threats so they are more likely to outlast other participants, at least for a while. Of course, if the alliance succeeds, it eventually has to dissolve, its members coming to the realization that they are also competitors;.
I wouldn’t say this analogy perfectly characterizes the current relationship between the political leaders of Texas and Florida.
State executives have their own fiefdoms and are relatively independent from each other.
But as we can see from the current crisis along the southern border, states are not, indeed, islands (in the figurative sense, anyway).
Sometimes, they best serve their residents when they unite as a bulwark to solve a problem or face down a rival.
And the recent news that Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis has answered Gov. Greg Abbott’s plea for assistance by sending resources to Texas to help secure the Texas-Mexico border from an expected surge in migrant crossings (thanks to the Biden’s administration’s end of Title 42) has all the trappings of an alliance-making move.
DeSantis said Tuesday that he was prepared to commit 1,100 National Guard soldiers and law enforcement personnel, as well as five aircraft, 17 drones and 10 boats from Florida.
Of course, Texas and Florida have a good deal in common politically.
They are two of the most populous states, both with strong conservative leaders at their helms and Republican legislatures in tow.
Both have burgeoning populations, thanks to economic, regulatory and political policies that have broad appeal.
And from pandemic policies to abortion and immigration, both have been a thorn in the side of the Biden administration.
Nothing like a good team effort.
Or maybe it’s more like a sibling rivalry.
After Abbott’s politically shrewd decision to offer incoming migrants bus rides to sanctuary cities like Chicago, New York and Washington, angering big city leaders who seemed to think small border communities were better equipped to manage the surge of humanity than their bloated bureaucracies, DeSantis upped the ante.
He chartered a pair of flights that took about 50 migrants to Martha’s Vineyard, Mass., a vacation haven for Democratic politicians and wealthy coastal elites.
For a time, DeSantis’ provocative move — which was all spectacle — eclipsed even Abbott’s more robust effort to legitimately relieve some stress from border towns struggling to cope with the endless crush of migrants.
Perhaps DeSantis was showing his support for Texas and Abbott; perhaps he thought he was taking Abbott’s idea and improving upon it.
Maybe DeSantis was thinking only of how to make himself a further nuisance to the president.
A common adversary, as it were, can do that.
But DeSantis’ decision to enter into the immigration space is clearly indicative of more than just his desire to help his friend and in sticking it to Biden.
With little doubt remaining that the Florida governor will enter the 2024 presidential contest, it’s clear he wants to appear like a heavyweight on immigration policy. Abbott already is.
What’s less clear is whether Abbott also has presidential aspirations.
If he does, the Texas-Florida alliance will have an interesting future indeed.
In the near-term, that could mean setting their sights on Donald Trump instead of Biden, and that would hardly be a terrible thing.
But at at some point, one of them will need to be voted off the island.
