The Never Trump narrative about Republican politicians who’ve converted to Trumpism goes something like this:
On some level, the convert understands that what he’s supporting is morally and civically foul. His or her “true self” finds the authoritarian project repugnant. But human beings are weak, especially when their ambition has convinced them that they’re destined to lead. If the path to power now runs through post-liberalism, they end up reasoning, destiny commands that they follow that path. Before long, they’re warming up the crowd at Trump rallies.
I’ve spun that narrative in this newsletter many times myself about figures as diverse as Elise Stefanik, Marco Rubio, and J.D. Vance. Reading through John McCormack’s excellent profile of Vance this morning, though, I wonder if I’ve gotten it wrong.
Why should anyone assume that J.D. Vance’s “true self” has reservations about serving a coup-plotting sociopath?
Right, right, I know: The 2016 version of Vance was clear-eyed about the threat from Trump and Trumpism, as John describes in detail. “Trump is cultural heroin,” the future senator wrote at the time, a pregnant metaphor given MAGA’s popularity in rural America. “He makes some feel better for a bit. But he cannot fix what ails them, and one day they’ll realize it.” Surely that’s evidence of what his “true self” believes.
Is it, though? Or is that just how a normal person comprehends extreme cynicism?
One could easily argue that the current iteration of Vance is the “true” one and the 2016 version was fake. When he called Trump “cultural heroin” eight years ago, he had every reason to assume the new GOP nominee would lose ignominiously to Hillary Clinton and end the right’s infatuation with nationalism. The smart bet at the time for an ambitious young conservative from the professional class was to ingratiate himself to the political establishment by denouncing an amoral populist insurgent. They would reward him for it later when he entered politics himself.
Vance miscalculated. Then he adapted.
Normal people puzzling over which version of Vance is his “true self” should consider the possibility that, for politicians of extreme ambition, there is no “true self” as the concept is commonly understood. They are what they need to be to get ahead, period, irrespective of moral or civic considerations. They’re less “converts” than reptiles, a distinct species.
J.D. Vance is good enough at being what he needs to be to have made himself the frontrunner for a national ticket before he turns 40. And you know what? Good. This country deserves him.
