James David Vance's ascent to the top tier of the Republican Party was not a smooth affair. Traditional Republicans detested him. Rupert Murdoch lobbied hard to keep him out of the party ticket. The media mogul reportedly wanted North Dakota Governor Doug Burgum. Two of his prominent American newspapers, The Wall Street Journal and the New York Post wrote editorials endorsing Burgum. Murdoch even sent several of his executives to persuade Donald Trump. Almost till the last moment, Trump was said to be leaning towards Burgum, whom he saw as a "low-maintenance, no-drama personality", someone who would never outshine him. But his sons, Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump were adamant. They both wanted Vance.
Back in 2016, when Trump was scouting for a running mate, among his closest advisors were his daughter Ivanka and her husband Jared Kushner. Both were centrist, establishment-friendly Reaganites and their approval of Pence was natural. This time, however, Trump's closest family advisors are his two sons and they both pitched for Vance. "There was a time when if you wanted to survive in the Republican Party you had to bend the knees to [Murdoch] or to others," said Trump Jr. "I don't think that is the case any more." And that is probably the biggest takeaway from Vance's nomination as the Republican vice presidential candidate. It is a clear break from decades of Republican leadership who called themselves Reagan Republicans. It is no longer Reagan's party. It is the party of Donald Trump.
If elected, 39-year-old Vance would be the third-youngest vice president, and the youngest since the Civil War. (The youngest vice president was John Breckenridge, who was 36 years and 47 days when won on a ticket with James Buchanan in 1857.) Vance is exactly half Trump’s age, and it matters. His selection is not just a political gamble, it is an ideological affirmation of the MAGA movement, a clear announcement that Vance would be the presumptive heir to Trump's legacy. In fact, Vance looks like the perfect torch bearer of the Trump movement, someone who could provide a clear ideological vision for the future, articulate it persuasively, convince hordes of middle-class Americans, and keep it alive long after Trump is gone.
In a way, the assassination attempt against Trump on July 13 gave him the perfect opportunity to choose Vance. It united party, which quickly closed ranks behind Trump. The attack gave him the perfect opportunity to complete the takeover of the party, decimating whatever minor internal opposition that existed. The show of fealty at the Republican National Convention by Trump baiters like Nikki Haley, Ron DeSantis and Ted Cruz made it clear that Trump could do as he pleased. It also conveyed a sense of inevitability that Trump was feeling so sure about victory that he went for the closest thing to a miniature version of himself in Vance, an intelligent, articulate and assertive advocate of the MAGA movement. In the MAGA world, Vance's credentials are impeccable: he is a populist ideologue, an exponent of Christian nationalism, an isolationist in foreign and economic policies and a strident critic of NATO.
But it does not mean that Trump did not factor in practical political considerations as well while choosing Vance. Vance's background makes for a compelling story. He grew up in Middletown, in the post-industrial Ohio rust belt, which has deep ties to Appalachia. His parents divorced when he was a toddler and his mother, who was a drug addict, was married five times. So he spent much of his childhood with his grandfather and grandmother, both interestingly, Democrats. In fact, Vance was born James Donald Bowman. He changed his name in honour of his grandparents, who were from Kentucky. After completing high school, Vance joined the Marines and served in Iraq. Upon returning to the US, he graduated from the Ohio State University on the G.I. Bill, followed by law school at Yale. He worked for a venture capital firm in California owned by the Silicon Valley billionaire Peter Thiel and later set up an NGO dedicated to combating opioid abuse.
In 2016, he wrote a memoir, Hillbilly Elegy, which found instant success. It was a compassionate, yet objective analysis of life in economically backward rural white America. His critics, however, say he misrepresented life in Appalachia. But the book was just in time to explain America's evolving political philosophy when it chose Trump as its president, dealing a severe blow to establishment politics. It explained in detail the grievances and frustrations of the white working class who got left behind as Washington was dominated by the coastal elites. The book told its readers how and why Trump got so much support among white working-class communities. And Trump clearly hopes that his appeal among the white working-class voters, especially in critical swing states such as Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin, will translate into votes. All three states went with Biden last time by really thin margins.
Despite his rigid ideological stance on a range of issues, Vance is also incredibly pragmatic, someone who is not averse to changing his views if that benefits him. The best example is his U-turn on Trump. He was a fierce Trump critic in the past. When Trump ran for president in 2016, Vance found him "reprehensible". In a Facebook message to a friend, he wrote that Trump was "America's Hitler" and a "cynical asshole" for his views on immigrants and Muslims. He even suggested that he would vote for Hillary Clinton if Trump had a chance of winning. (He finally voted for independent candidate Evan McMulin.) He found Trump to be "America's cultural heroin". "During this election season, many Americans have reached for a new pain reliever. It enters minds, not through lungs or veins, but through eyes and ears, and its name is Donald Trump."
But once he decided to run for Senate in 2022, he visited Trump at his Mar-a-Lago residence, pledged absolute fealty and aligned his policies with Trump's and his Trump’s endorsement. The reconciliation was brokered by West Coast venture capitalist and prominent Trump supporter Peter Thiel, who also bankrolled his senate campaign.
In the Senate, Vance is known for his hardline profile influenced by a mix of strong borders, economic protectionism, fiscal populism, Christian nationalism and an isolationist foreign policy.
On foreign policy, Vance abhors all kinds of external interventions by the US. He is among the most isolationist members of the Republican Party and has been a vocal critic of what he calls Europe's over-dependence on the US. His opposition to the Ukraine war has been strident and consistent, often leading to strong criticism from within Republicans themselves. He was the main driving force behind the unsuccessful move in the Senate to block a $60 billion military aid package for Ukraine in April. "I don’t really care what happens to Ukraine one way or the other," said Vance.
Yet another pet cause for Vance is abortion, a key challenge for Republicans this election reason. Vance has been an anti-abortion fanatic in the past, calling it murder and opposing it even in the case of incest or rape. When the US Supreme Court overturned the Roe v. Wade decision in 2022, he enthusiastically welcomed it. But Vance has now mellowed his position on the issue, agreeing with Trump’s plan to leave it to states.
He also echoes Trump on immigration and wants to complete the construction of the wall on the southern border. He is opposed to any kind of plan to regularise illegal immigrants and has said many times that he would "oppose every attempt to grant amnesty" to them. But he is not a blind immigration sceptic. Vance supports "a merit-based system for immigrants" for those seeking to come to the US. And he has yet another pro-immigration card to play. His wife, Usha, was born to Indian immigrants—her father was an aerospace engineer and her mother, a molecular biologist—from Andhra Pradesh, and she grew up in an ethnically diverse San Diego suburb. They met at Yale Law School and got married in 2014 in Kentucky. They were blessed by a Hindu priest in a separate ceremony. Vance has praised Usha's devout family for instilling in her a deep sense of faith and moral values. Vance is also deeply religious; in 2019, he was baptised into the Catholic Church.
On the economy, one can expect more America-first rhetoric as Vance, like Trump, supports "broad-based tariffs", like a 10 per cent across-the-board tariff on all imports, notwithstanding advice from experts that such a move could trigger inflation. Vance has long supported the cause of the American worker and its manufacturing base and he argues that decades of globalisation has been damaging for the US. So an economic pushback against China and perhaps even the European Union cannot be ruled out if Vance wins. He is also a climate sceptic and a strong supporter of the oil and gas industry. On many instances, he has expressed opinions against wind solar energy, and lectric vehicles.
By picking Vance, Trump has made it clear that in his second term he would push hard for the MAGA agenda, especially on issues such as trade, tariffs, immigration and foreign policy. Despite calls for national unity, he is unlikely to compromise much to the traditional wing of the Republican Party—if at all it exists anymore—and go ahead with his populist push. And he expects Vance to carry forward his legacy, long after he is gone.