Now, granted, it was a bad question, because all of us would respond with rage if someone we loved were raped and murdered, and that's not the best way to make policy. So Dukakis' answer was perfectly appropriate as a policy matter, but it was a disaster as a political matter. Voters thought he was some sort of machine bereft of human feelings and betraying his role as manly wife defender.

Candidates have long performed at two levels in debates, parrying and thrusting about issues but also asserting dominance in mammalian code. In 2000, Al Gore and George W. Bush were seated on chairs without lecterns for a townhall-style debate. At one point, as Bush was speaking, Gore strode over to his side of the stage and right into Bush's personal space. Bush looked at him and gave him a curt nod as if to say, "I see what you're doing, and it's not working."

So voters want their leaders to be assertive and commanding. That has always been the case, and in recent decades, before the Trump era, it was kept within reasonable bounds. Trump, of course, made the subtext the headline, proclaiming, "I alone can fix it," and claiming to be the smartest, toughest, wealthiest, savviest, most capable leader the world had ever seen. Like his hero, Russian President Vladimir Putin, who posed shirtless on horseback and with big game "kills," Trump took the alpha posturing to absurd lengths. Actually, if Trump had merely pretended to kill tigers, it would have been less offensive than his promises to commit war crimes (such as targeting the families of terrorists).

It remains a mystery that these absurd boasts by the most obviously insecure manchild in living memory were not met with the ridicule they deserved. But here we are. Trump's image as some sort of Rambo persists with his most perfervid followers, and even non-MAGAites continue to see him as strong.

Most Democrats have responded to the Trump alpha gorilla routine by reminding voters that he's dangerous and unhinged. It's all true. But in the process of strutting as cock of the walk, Trump has emasculated every other Republican. He may look strong, but he demands that every other Republican become weak in his service.

Men like Kevin McCarthy, Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio have abased themselves to remain in Trump's good graces. Cruz performed one of the most humiliating kowtows, tamely accepting insults to his wife's appearance, to say nothing of Trump's lunatic assertion that Cruz's father had a role in the Kennedy assassination. They all hold their manhoods cheap. And because Trump is vindictive, petty and cruel, he couldn't resist reminding an Ohio audience that J.D. Vance, the candidate he had come to support but who had once been a Trump critic, was "kissing my ass."

At their first debate on Monday, Ryan took the shot. Reminding viewers that he had stood up to leaders of his own party including Nancy Pelosi and Bernie Sanders, he noted that Vance was such a Trump lackey that even Trump had described it in those terms. Pressing the point, he recalled that even after Trump had "taken his dignity away from him," Vance had returned to the stage to shake Trump's hand and smile for the camera. Hitting the everyman theme, Ryan offered, almost with pity, that "I don't know anybody I grew up with, I don't know anybody I went to high school with, that would allow somebody to take their dignity like that and then get back up on stage."

Ryan thus simultaneously elevated his own alpha status while reinforcing Vance's weakness. Every Republican who has bent the knee to Trump — male or female — is vulnerable in this way. Ryan has taught Democrats something.