Though the preoccupations of the right’s new social thinkers may have arisen alongside Donald Trump, they themselves are not necessarily Trumpy. | Giorgio Viera/AFP via Getty Images Aaron Renn was in a good mood. And that was fair: It’s not every day that you get labeled the No. 1 “intellectual super influencer” for a major swath of the Trump-era right. “It’s always good to have some independent validation of your work,” he told me. A former partner at the consulting firm Accenture, he’s now best known for his writing on urban policy and the role of evangelical Christians (like himself) in American culture. His concept of the “negative world” — the idea that contemporary mainstream culture is inherently hostile to anyone taking evangelical principles seriously — has become influential enough to receive feature treatment in the New York Times. Yet for anyone familiar with American politics, the idea that someone like Aaron Renn is in any way the No. 1 “super influencer” on the right might seem implausible. He’s not a social media warrior with the White House’s ear, like Laura Loomer or Chris Rufo. He’s not a household name like Tucker Carlson. He doesn’t run a big media outfit like Ben Shapiro. So where does Renn’s achievement come from, and what does it mean? The source is a new report from the boutique risk analysis firm Baron Public Affairs LLC. Baron makes its money, in part, by advising corporate clients on how best to navigate the DC political environment to advance their interests. Its new report is an attempt to guide them through a specific subset of the right: the national-populist corner of the right-wing policy world that’s achieved greater prominence since 2016. Baron’s report paints a fascinating picture of today’s conservatism, shining a light on some of its most thoughtful, relevant, and interesting quarters. Yet in doing so, the report also skates over divisions inside the group under consideration — splits that matter immensely for the American right’s future. The “super influencers,” explained In its report, Baron compiled papers published by six right-wing think tanks and one right-leaning intellectual journal. They then used a proprietary research platform to comb through 29,181 citations to individual people in those papers, and assembled a list of the top 20 most cited names in their sample. These, in Baron’s estimation, are the “super influencers” who “most inform the policy leaders of the nationalist-populist movement,” the conservatives building intellectual scaffolding to support the GOP’s turn toward both economic and political nationalism. Baron did not publish the full list of 20 names (and did not respond to my repeated requests for comment). But alongside Renn, the most cited name in its sample, it revealed two other “super influencers” in an accompanying podcast: Brad Wilcox and Michael Lind. Both are revealing. Wilcox is a sociologist at the University of Virginia and a senior fellow at the Institute for Family Studies, a think tank known for taking an unusually empirical approach to social conservatism. If you’ve followed Wilcox, whose work has often been relevant to our coverage at Vox, you’ve probably seen him offering charts, graphs, and regression analyses to defend his view that marriage is one of society’s most important and valuable institutions. His most recent book is titled, simply enough, Get Married. Lind, by contrast, arguably isn’t a conservative at all. A longtime commentator on American politics, he began his career as a kind of left labor populist — hostile to mass immigration due to the same (empirically doubtful) fears about the harmful effects on native-born workers that once shaped Bernie Sanders’ views on the issue. Long critical of the cultural elitism of American liberals, Lind has drifted more and more toward writing for conservative outlets: becoming in effect, if not in self-identification, a real influence on the populist right. (He is not the only liberal on the list, which per Baron includes “two Biden-era White House officials and a writer who leads one of the more prominent tribes of the Left.”) These three men — Renn, Wilcox, and Lind — reflect what Baron sees as the defining preoccupations of the “super influencers” more broadly. Unlike previous generations of conservatives, the right’s new intellectuals aren’t especially interested in maximizing economic growth or projecting American power abroad (in fact, none of Baron’s top 20 were foreign policy experts at all). Instead, they’re overwhelmingly focused on different questions: how to reverse declining fertility rates, or the effect of trade competition with China on American cities and families. Unlike previous generations of conservatives, the right’s new intellectuals aren’t especially interested in maximizing economic growth or projecting American power abroad. In our conversation, Renn suggested a uniting concept for the issues these writers cared about: “the social health of the nation.” By this, he meant things that couldn’t be fully captured by traditional economic metrics: whether Americans feel happy, whether they feel like they live meaningful lives, whether they feel like their families and communities are secure and stable. “There are these trends that don’t seem super healthy even if the GDP line continues to go up,” Renn says. “Those have been issues that weren’t part of Donald Trump’s initial set of issues, but are ones that have become widely talked about — even on the left.” Though the preoccupations of the right’s new social thinkers may have arisen alongside Trump to challenge Reagan-era free-market conservatives, they themselves are not necessarily Trumpy. Befitting the fact that many have backgrounds in quantitative social science, and that some see themselves as liberals, they tend to be looking for answers beyond MAGA demagoguery. That’s true even though their research topics have some obvious appeal within MAGA spaces. Super influencers against themselves Baron’s report paints an appealing portrait of the modern right. Renn’s oeuvre is indeed fascinating, and Wilcox’s empiricism fosters a more serious conversation around social policy than the traditional culture war hysterics. More broadly, I think Baron is right that the sorts of issues that preoccupy these thinkers will indeed remain important for the right for quite some time. But I think there’s a danger in treating this group as homogenous, or as representative of the right as a whole. To see why, it’s helpful to go back to the report’s basic methodology — tracking citations in right-wing publications. Those publications were drawn from the following seven sources: American Affairs American Compass The Foundation for American Innovation (FAI) The Claremont Institute The America First Policy Institute (AFPI) The Center for Renewing America (CRA) The Heritage Foundation These are extremely different outfits. Three of them — American Affairs, American Compass, and FAI — indeed overlap with the kinds of questions that Baron’s “super influencers” are interested in. The other four, by contrast, are MAGA more than anything else: Their mission, at least as currently constituted, is to mount an intellectual defense of the president’s worldview and/or develop policy ideas that might flesh out Trump’s inchoate impulses. This isn’t necessarily relevant for Baron’s mission in advising clients on which influential voices deserve their attention. But for those of us interested in mapping the intellectual right, these distinctions are vital. Indeed, by Baron’s own estimation, there is a significant difference between the kinds of people cited in reports by these two sub-groupings in its sample. The first grouping, Baron found, will regularly cite “heterodox liberals” like Lind who share some of their priorities; the second did not cite a single such liberal in any of the reports it surveyed. Thus, there actually isn’t one unified cadre of intellectual “super influencers” shaping the national-populist right. There are two distinctive groupings: one which influences the sorts of New Right outfits committed to their own ideological project, the other which influences reports released by MAGA appendages. While there is some overlap between those two groups, Baron’s own analysis suggests they are meaningfully distinct blocs. This matters for the right’s future. In fact, it matters a lot. Publications from the first three of Baron’s sources tend to be less hard-edged about partisan conflict; they engage with liberals quite a bit because they prioritize their long-term policy goals and are looking for coalition members who can help advance them. In their work, you can see some of the virtues the Baron report documents amongst the cited “super influencers” — empiricism, “genteel temperament,” a focus on distinctively 21st century social problems. Work by the other four, by contrast, tends to paint American political divisions in apocalyptic terms. Claremont writers, for example, have famously described the 2016 election as “Flight 93” and declared that “most people living in the United States today — certainly more than half — are not Americans in any meaningful sense of the term.” They do not cite liberals approvingly because they see them as worse than political rivals: as villains, the authors of America’s ills, whose power must be crushed for the country to survive. “We are in the process of the second American Revolution, which will remain bloodless if the left allows it to be,” as Heritage president Kevin Roberts put it in an interview on Steve Bannon’s podcast. One of the principal questions of the right’s looming post-Trump era will be whether it can move past this kind of zero-sum partisanship. The Baron report might lead one to be optimistic on that front: if Aaron Renn truly is the leading influence among the American right’s national-populist intellectuals, that portends a future where America’s warring political tribes can finally start to find common ground. But I wouldn’t bet on it, at least not for some time now. There are deep reasons why Trump, a human embodiment of rage and division, leads the Republican Party — and why some of the right’s top thought leaders are so loyal to him. So long as those reasons persist, the influence of more thoughtful “super influencers” on practical politics may be more limited than one might hope.