How thoroughly is Elizabeth Warren dominating the ideas debate among the 2020 presidential candidates? Since she released her signature “wealth tax” proposal in late January, she’s been churning out major policy proposals roughly once a week. During the April 22 series of CNN candidate town halls, every candidate was asked about Warren’s proposal to cancel most student debt. Meanwhile, about half of her Democratic rivals haven’t even bothered to set up policy sections on their campaign websites. It’s no wonder that Warren is widely recognized as the leading idea generator in the Democratic presidential primary. So far, it’s not even a contest.

She aims to break up the Big Tech oligopoly, establish universal child care and massively invest in affordable housing, to name just a few. As her reputation as a policy machine has grown, so have her poll numbers. A new Quinnipiac survey has Warren at 12 percent, edging Bernie Sanders for second place by 1 point. Apparently, it’s enough to turn some “Bernie Bros” into (and I’m not making this up) “Liz Lads.”

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There’s just one problem with winning the ideas primary: There have been a lot of “ideas” candidates over the years, staking out high-profile policies and charting new territory for their parties. And they tend to lose.

Sometimes their ideas simply get lifted by the front-runners. In 2008, John Edwards briefly stood out by proposing a government-run public health insurance option, but Barack Obama, the eventual nominee, and Hillary Clinton quickly followed suit. In 2016, Sanders drew a stark distinction with the global-minded Clinton by opposing the Trans-Pacific Partnership, only to watch her decide to oppose it as well.

Other times the ideas garner sympathy from the party’s voters, but not from enough of them—or the ideas are deemed too big an electoral risk. Howard Dean spent months as the front-runner beginning in the summer of 2003, largely because of his blunt opposition to the war in Iraq. But Democratic voters flinched right before the Iowa caucuses, when the capture of Saddam Hussein briefly put the war in a positive light. Steve Forbes wasted $69 million of his own money in two presidential runs in an unsuccessful attempt to sell the Republican Party on a flat tax.

And in some cases, the ideas are too far outside the party’s comfort zone. In 1988, Bruce Babbitt backed up his commitment to deficit reduction by proposing a national sales tax, winning some pundit praise but not many Democratic primary votes. That same year on the Republican side, Jack Kemp rejected his party’s “deficit mania” and embraced the gold standard, while defining himself as a “progressive conservative” who would appeal to African-Americans and labor—an innovative new vision of GOP politics that was too much for more traditional conservatives. And Newt Gingrich took his reputation as an idea machine a wee bit too far in 2012 when he pledged to build a permanent moon colony that could qualify for statehood.

That doesn’t mean that candidates should skip the substance altogether. Beto O’Rourke’s campaign is currently sputtering in part because he has spent more time jumping on novel platforms than defining his own. (To be fair, O’Rourke did recently offer a climate plan, and he even wore a suit.) Back in 1984, Gary Hart almost derailed the front-runner, former Vice President Walter Mondale, by declaring himself the candidate of “new ideas.” But Hart was more slogan than substance, giving Mondale a big opening. “When I hear your ‘new ideas,’” shot Mondale in a pivotal debate, “I’m reminded of that ad, ‘Where’s the Beef?’” (Mondale was referencing the catchphrase of a popular Wendy’s ad, and you will have to trust me that this was considered at the time to be both very funny and devastating. It was the ’80s.)

But candidates also need to avoid dumping too much beef into their stew, and they should make sure that most of it is of a familiar flavor. Winning primary candidates usually don’t push the envelope too far and risk backlash from voters worried about electability. Of course, there are exceptions, and when parties are ideologically divided, substantively edgy candidates—like our sitting president—can be nominated with only a plurality of the primary vote.

Today’s Democrats may be divided enough to make 2020 the year for such a candidate, but Warren has the added problem of competing with Sanders for the title of Most Audacious Populist. Despite Warren’s many proposals, Sanders’ support in the polls more than triples hers. Perhaps that’s because Warren’s brand of populism doesn’t squarely challenge the existence of capitalism. She even calls herself a “capitalist.” As right-leaning columnist Jennifer Rubin recently argued, Warren proposes a wealth tax without “demonizing” the wealthy—in fact, she praises their successes and innovations. This may support a case for Warren’s general election viability, but it also leaves some of Sanders’ socialists cold.

Being squeezed by socialist dreamers on her left and skittish electoral pragmatists on her right, many of whom remember her scrum with President Donald Trump over her Native American ancestry, has kept Warren in the middling single digits for much of the year. Warren herself appears to recognize that she may not be able to wriggle out of that political vise, and that she may have to settle for a consolation prize. Last month the New York Times reported, citing two anonymous friends of Warren’s, that she “would be content if her agenda prevailed but she lost the nomination.”

There is certainly precedent for ideas candidates losing the battle but winning the war. Perhaps the most direct example is John McCain. After making campaign finance reform a centerpiece of his failed insurgent 2000 presidential bid, McCain shepherded a bipartisan reform package through Congress, cornering the man who beat him, President George W. Bush, into reluctantly signing it.

Even if it doesn’t lead to legislation, an honorable losing primary campaign can still influence a party’s agenda. Sanders hasn’t yet transformed the Democratic Party into a socialist vessel, but his 2016 primary bid won in enough states to legitimize many of his signature proposals, especially single-payer health insurance. And Edwards’ public option remains widely embraced among Democrats, even if it didn’t make it into Obama’s Affordable Care Act.

However, the mere issuance of policy white papers doesn’t guarantee their lasting inclusion in a party’s platform, and sometimes backfires. Babbitt not only didn’t convince Democrats to embrace a national sales tax, he also helped to persuade the party to stop proposing any tax increases that fall on the middle class. In a debate the month before the 1988 Iowa caucuses, Michael Dukakis was applauded when he ripped Babbitt’s plan as a “Republican tax bill.” Dukakis went on: “It’s regressive, and I think we ought to reject it out of hand. Bruce has a lousy tax plan.” The vaguer Dukakis won the primary, and the national sales tax wasn’t heard from again. In Republican presidential primaries, Forbes’ flat tax has lived on, but only as an off-the-shelf position for successive fringe right-wing presidential primary candidates.

If Warren does fail to win the nomination, there are big questions about the political feasibility of her expansive agenda, questions that will likely determine whether it outlasts her candidacy. Just one example: a key financing component is her wealth tax that targets households with assets of at least $50 million, which she estimates would bring in a whopping $2.75 trillion over 10 years (She also calls for a tax on large corporate profits, potentially raising another trillion, and an estate tax hike, which she suggests would bring in at least $500 billion.) But some question her revenue estimates. More important, there is a debate over whether a wealth tax would be constitutional, as the 16th Amendment specifies only the power to levy taxes on “income.”

Betting on this conservative-leaning Supreme Court to interpret the 16thAmendment expansively is not a safe wager. Warren has said she would entertain the idea of expanding the Supreme Court, which in theory could solve any nettlesome constitutional obstacle, but would add a layer of norm-busting controversy for Warren to manage.

If Warren can sell her ideas as the best methods to combat inequality and injustice, other Democrats will likely embrace them. If Warren can’t ably defuse the inevitable concerns about political and constitutional viability, then her ideas are likely to get buried in the progressive political graveyard alongside Babbitt’s national sales tax.

Working in Warren’s favor is her experience and depth. She has spent literally decades refining her economic agenda and her sales pitch, and it shows on the stump, especially in contrast with a field largely composed of political newcomers. Her ideas are not scattershot. They flow from a cohesive critique of what has ailed the middle class and the poor. She has artfully melded concerns about racial inequality into her economic agenda to broaden its appeal across racial lines. Shrugging off naysayers who question her likability, she has proven herself to be quite personable.

Nevertheless, Warren is pushing an extremely ambitious, expansive and expensive agenda to a Democratic electorate which, despite its emboldened youthful left flank, has a majority of voters older than 45 and a majority of self-described moderates. Pollster Celinda Lake says the percent of Democrats who prioritize defeating Trump over sharing the nominee’s values is at “record highs,” a sentiment that appears to be behind Joe Biden’s healthy post-announcement bump in the polls. That’s not ideal terrain for an ideas candidate.

But the quintessential ideas candidate cares less about winning the race than the success of the ideas themselves. And one thing is for certain: No one will question whether Warren has the beef.