I’ll walk through why the informal “beer test” still matters, how it started, who wins and loses it today, and why personality and approachability often trump ideology at the ballot box.

The Famous Beer Test, and Why Commies Always Fail It

There’s a familiar line often credited to Benjamin Franklin: “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” That saying captures a simple truth about politics and people: voters notice who feels like someone they’d share a drink with. The beer test is less about alcohol and more about relatability, charm, and whether a candidate seems human rather than a policy lecture on legs.

The test traces back to the 2000 election cycle and the Sam Adams ad era, and it became a media shorthand for likability during campaigns. Candidates who seem loose, chatty, and easygoing typically score well, while stiff, humorless types do not. Donald Trump famously “won” that metric in 2016 because he clearly projected personality, even if the image didn’t match the teetotal reality.

Had a chuckle reading the New York Times story this morning about Nebraska Independent Senate candidate Dan Osborn, whose interesting take on the two traditional parties is, “I think they both kind of suck.” The Timesis stroking Osborn for the same reason the Democratic Party is promoting him — he’s running against Republican Pete Ricketts. Which is fine, and logical, but this was funny:

Off the stump, Mr. Osborn passes the political test of a guy you’d like to have a beer with. He is loose, chatty, goofy and prone to saying stuff that would give the average campaign consultant a heart attack.

That snapshot explains why voters often dismiss candidates who may be brilliant on paper but are joyless in person. The beer test is shorthand for whether someone feels like a neighbor or like a lecture. When campaigns evaluate electability, being approachable counts in the margin between victory and defeat.

So where do modern leftist candidates fall on this scale? The piece argues that democratic socialists and open communists — people like Zohran Mamdani, Abdul El-Sayed, and Francesca Hong — generally fail the beer test. The critique is straightforward: many of them present as humorless scolds who relish rebuke more than camaraderie, and that demeanor repels average voters.

Beyond personality, cultural cues matter too. The writer suggests that these politicians often come across as aloof or ideologically rigid, and that perception undermines outreach to mainstream voters. Voters who want someone to talk with, not lecture, tend to choose candidates who project warmth and common-ground humor over doctrinaire seriousness.

The piece also jabs at style choices and presentation, arguing that opponents of the left perceive those politicians as out of touch with ordinary social rituals, including something as simple as sharing a beer. That critique ties into larger concerns about electability: if you can’t connect over small moments, you’ll struggle to win big ones.

There’s a local angle too. The author praises certain Republican figures—Nick Begich III, Senator Dan Sullivan, and Bernadette Wilson—for projecting the sort of engaging, quick-witted presence that passes the beer test in their states. These endorsements emphasize that likability and clarity win voters, especially in swing or rural areas where personal rapport matters.

Personality isn’t everything, of course, but it’s a useful heuristic for voters trying to pick among candidates. The beer test highlights soft skills: warmth, humor, the ability to joke at oneself, and a sense of shared identity with constituents. Those traits can make policy conversations easier and campaigning more effective.

The conclusion offered is clear from a conservative angle: don’t vote for humorless scolds who alienate the center and independents. Electability requires more than purity on policy; it requires a politician people trust enough to imagine sitting next to at a local bar or a community event. That kind of trust translates into ballots.

Personal preference plays a role too. The writer admits he’d happily share a Diet Coke with President Trump rather than an icy pint with certain opponents, illustrating that the beer test is ultimately subjective as much as it is predictive. Voters weigh character, demeanor, and whether a candidate feels like someone they’d want in their corner.

Editor’s Note: The 2026 Midterms will determine the fate of President Trump’s America First agenda. Republicans must maintain control of both chambers of Congress.