Chris Christie is the thinking man's Donald Trump

It's crunch time for the Republican old guard. Donald Trump is on top. Ted Cruz is rising. Ben Carson hasn't completely faded away. Meanwhile, even Marco Rubio hasn't found firm footing in the top tier, Jeb Bush still can't get traction, and John Kasich, who had a chance at locking up anxious party elites, wound up annoying them instead.

But Chris Christie still seems to believe he can win, and events have obliged him.

The massacres in Paris and San Bernardino, California, with ISIS looming beyond, have amplified Christie's core message more than any other candidate's. He is the thinking man's Donald Trump, and the political moment for his brand of securitarianism has arrived.

Can the message win? To be sure, over the course of building his brand, Christie has drawn hate from across the political spectrum.

Hit with Hurricane Sandy, the New Jersey governor worked overtime to hug President Obama close and disaster competence closer, drawing spite and spittle from conservative Republicans on RINO watch. But Christie was laying down a marker, demonstrating that, to him, safety and security mattered more than partisanship. It was Democrats' turn to hiss when Christie's instinct for discipline and control took the petty turn that fueled his "Bridgegate" scandal. When that waned, his ever-firmer allegiance with prosecutors and cops made him an enemy of the criminal-justice left — and the libertarian right.

It hasn't been the kind of consistency his toughest competition has relied on to rise in the polls. Where Cruz has anchored himself as a "full spectrum conservative" capable of scooping up disillusioned grassroots voters from flashier insurgent candidates, Christie has not been able to break into double digits nationwide. His dominant debate performance last time around came with a big asterisk: He'd been demoted to the kid's table.

But the campaign game has changed. As ISIS and terrorism dominate the news, leaders in both parties have failed to focus the mind and capture the imagination. With President Obama politically derelict and Hillary Clinton mirthlessly running through her playbook, most of the Republican field has missed the opportunity to articulate a muscular yet "respectable" securitarian agenda. Cruz's effort to stake out a prudent Jacksonianism works well for Americans who don't want a full-dress invasion of the Mideast. But our tolerance for disorder abroad has long been greater than our tolerance for disorder at home. And there the advantage goes to Christie, the kind of authority figure many Republicans might find ready to hug back in spite of themselves — and in spite of his paper-thin resume on foreign affairs.

So in New Hampshire, where Christie has doggedly built a base of support from the law and order vote, he has now vaulted into fourth place behind Trump, Cruz, and Rubio. As Public Policy Polling noted, "he's had a 50-point net improvement in his favorability over the last three months." He's within a few points of Cruz and Rubio as voters' second choice. Christie's reach as a second choice is unparalleled: He's the favorite backup of Bush and Kasich voters — and the second-favorite second choice of Trump voters.

There's more to this than a localized boomlet or a broader hunger for crackdowns. While Rubio, Trump, and Cruz all give off a feeling that their security positions are calculated, Christie gives off the sensation of securitarianism from the heart. Critiquing the New York Daily News for its post-San Bernardino cover headline — "God isn't fixing this" — he slammed the editors for "trying to eliminate the Second Amendment" and "degrade the power of prayer."

"I'm sorry," he told Greta Susteren. "the power of prayer is still the most powerful thing in the world."

Neither Trump, Bush, Cruz, nor Kasich can finesse that weird mix of confrontation and compassion. And Rubio's attempt to hit that sweet spot notably failed when he tried to convince conservatives that "nothing matters if we aren't safe." But Christie connects with a more adult kind of pathos. "When terror dogs us, happiness is not possible," Christie told a party conference in Florida this month. He told the Republican Jewish Coalition we're "in the midst of the next world war." Nodding along, the New Hampshire Union-Leader endorsed Christie as the right candidate "for these dangerous times. He has prosecuted terrorists and dealt admirably with major disasters," the paper cheered. And, crucially, he has done it all while comfortable in his own skin: "he tells it like it is and isn't shy about it."

That's why the GOP's reigning mainstreamers are cheering. In a nation hungry for "adult supervision," George Will recently intoned, "sufficient days remain for Republicans to reshuffle the deck, to relegate Trump's rampaging to the nation's mental attic, and to recognize in Christie a serious political talent." Now, Christie cuts a remarkably "moderate" figure in the lineup. A fusion candidate the likes of which many Republican tastemakers (and donors) still have been waiting for, he's like a cross between a sane Trump, a high-energy Bush, an experienced Rubio, and a Kasich you'd allow in the man cave.

That's a path to the nomination. Christie will beat Jeb and Kasich in the establishment primary, shaming them both in New Hampshire. And if Rubio continues to poll far enough below Cruz, Christie will become a magnet for all the wealthy and powerful people afraid they'd have to back Cruz to beat Trump. Then his national numbers could rise to the occasion — if Christie can keep up his compassionate securitarianism. Poised somewhere between Reagan and Nixon, Christie is best poised to deliver the "responsible" crackdown so many Republicans crave.