J.D. Vance Is a Bridge to Trumpism Beyond Trump
Vance's vibes are Trumpian but also traditional—a potent and dangerous combination.
The key to understanding J.D. Vance's role in the contemporary Republican Party may be Mike Pence. Trump's last running mate was undeniably a traditional establishment Republican: a social conservative, a fiscal conservative, a former talk radio host—in 2016, this was as standard a GOP figure as you could get. But these days, Pence is a relic of a bygone party and the Ohio senator running with Trump this time represents its cutting edge. He's young, he's bearded, and his early forays into political commentary were on the internet, not the radio.
If Pence was a link the party's past, Vance is a bridge to its future. He's there to extend and expand Trumpism beyond Trump.
Watching Vance onstage at the Republican National Convention (RNC) last night was like seeing a mirror-world version of a normal GOP convention speech. In content and substance, Vance often strays far from GOP candidates of yore. He talks trash about free markets and free trade. He rails against Wall Street and war.
But stylistically and character-wise, this is what you would expect from a Republican vice presidential candidate: dignified but affable, well-groomed and telegenic, capable of sticking to a script. Folksy and commanding in the right degrees. Pedigreed but relatable—a Yale Law School graduate and U.S. senator with heartland roots and working-class cred—and a living emblem of traditional conservative values, with a military background and a charming nuclear family.
Vance looked and sounded presidential: a guy you can imagine capably playing the president on TV or social media. Pence also looked like a GOP leader straight out of central casting, but he and Vance would never be competing for the same scripts.
Pence was picked to allay very 2016 concerns—that Trump was inexperienced, uncouth, an outsider, unorthodox in views and style, and unpalatable to the social and religious conservatives that made up a big part of the party's base. "Eight years ago, Pence was considered a savvy choice because of his ability to soothe any misgivings his fellow evangelical Christians might have about casting a vote for a thrice-married philanderer," as my colleague Stephanie Slade wrote on Monday.
Trump no longer need worry about such things. Religious voters fell in line. People liked his weird style. Now he is the Republican establishment.
Vance—as populist as Trump, and as unorthodox a conservative in his own way—is clearly meant to tether Trump and Trumpism to the party's future.
Another way to think about Vance is to contrast him with the current vice president, Kamala Harris. Harris, too, was intended to serve a sort of bridge to the party's future. But her appeal was mostly identitarian rather than ideological, and she has mostly failed to develop a personal brand that looks likely to live on.
Harris is also young, at least compared to Joe Biden and Trump. At 59 years old, she is technically a boomer (it's possible we will never have a Gen X president or vice president) but among the very youngest of that generation.
Like Vance, she's young enough to have been personally affected by policies that Biden backed during his long political career. For Vance, it was the Iraq War, which he fought in and criticized Biden's vote for last night. For Harris, it was busing to desegregate schools.
Another commonality: Vance and Harris have both been somewhat hard to pin down politically. Both seem to have drastically changed certain positions in sync with prevailing political winds, in a way that gives them both a sheen of phoniness, of being willing to say whatever the times call for. Most famously, Vance flip-flopped on Trump, who in 2016 he called an "idiot" and "reprehensible" and possibly "America's Hitler."
Unlike Harris, however, Vance has remained relatively consistent and resolute once he shifted. Harris has gone back and forth, or been non-committal and vague, within short time periods, giving her the air of being either unprincipled or skittish about sharing those principles publicly. Vance's stances can more believably be claimed as a change of heart.
There are also major stylistic differences between Harris and Vance. The former has a tough time in situations where she's supposed to appear generically inspiring and/or relatable. She rambles, comes off as stiff and prickly. Her improvisation skills are lacking. And she doesn't do well when challenged.
Time will tell how Vance does on unsympathetic turf. But on the Republican National Convention (RNC) stage last night, Vance appeared at ease and spoke eloquently, making platitudes seem heartfelt and bantering cheerfully with the audience. He oozed authenticity, or at least a veneer of it, which is one thing Harris has had trouble conveying.
Neither Harris nor Vance are their party's frontrunners, so their relative appeal and merits obviously aren't the main issues at stake in this election (though the ages of both presidential candidates, and questions about Biden's cognitive health, make them more relevant than usual). But as the current standard-bearers for their respective parties' futures, they make interesting case studies—and foils—for one another. And whatever you think of their respective policy positions (I'm not too keen on either), Vance has an upper hand in that much-mocked but vital category of being somebody Americans can imagine comfortably getting a beer with.
Vance's vibes are better, even if it may all be an illusion.
This makes Vance, in a way, scarier than Harris, because his ideas stand more of a chance to take root and live on.
And like Trump, Vance portends a turn away from not just certain conservative values but also from liberal Democratic norms. "He is a genuine threat to the rule of law," suggests Slade, calling Vance "the Trump-but-competent so many of us have long worried may be coming."
Vance demonizes free trade, big business, and technology companies. He wants more federal intervention in the economy. He supports expanding regulation and the administrative state to make private entities get in line with the right's political goals. He has expressed support for banning porn, breaking up Google, and reviving the Comstock Act. His agenda—on economic and cultural issues—is every bit as authoritarian as Trump's and perhaps more so.
Vance shows us what the party of Trump may look like in a post-Trump world. It's not a pretty picture, even if Vance does deliver its message with aplomb.
