More than a dozen Republican politicians — some of whom were considered reasonably serious people until recently — are competing to prove themselves worthy of serving as Donald Trump’s running mate. Like the court surrounding a mad king, the contenders abase themselves while searching for patterns in Trump’s mercurial whims so that they can fashion their own image accordingly. Does he want someone who’s tough? What about someone who only implies they’ll reject the election results if Trump loses? How about someone who boasts of the time they shot their dog?
Throughout most of American history, nominees of major parties have chosen their running mates through a combination of three factors: political considerations, policy qualifications and the personal relationship between the nominee and the running mate. With Trump today, the first two factors are all but irrelevant. Only the personal relationship is playing a role and it’s making all the contenders look smaller and more venal.
The personal relationship between the nominee and the running mate is normally almost an afterthought in public discussion.
With most candidates, the political and policy aspects have made up the bulk of our discussion around potential vice presidents. Traditionally, geography was a chief political consideration: A nominee would choose a running mate from a key state or region. So John F. Kennedy of Massachusetts picked Lyndon Johnson, who could be an emissary to the South in general and Texas in particular, which Kennedy wound up winning by just 2 points.
As the red-blue divide hardened over recent decades, geographic considerations have become less important, but most running mates are still chosen to fill some other kind of political gap. It might be a party constituency that needed reassurance or to address a perceived weakness on the candidate’s part. Joe Biden owes much to this consideration: In 2008, the relatively inexperienced Barack Obama decided to pick an old Washington hand as his vice president.
Then there are the policy questions — what a running mate would actually do in office. What kinds of issues might they take on in a position with no defined responsibilities? What issues would the president be most likely to ask their advice on, and what would that advice be? And, of course, would they be prepared to become president on short notice?
The personal relationship between the nominee and the running mate is normally almost an afterthought in public discussion, however important it might be behind the scenes. After the pick is announced, campaigns usually just tell reporters how the nominees and their running mates instantly “clicked” upon meeting each other, had deep and meaningful conversations together, and were getting along swimmingly.
Eight years ago, Trump did consider politics and policy in choosing his running mate. Not only did Mike Pence’s deep ties in the conservative movement (especially among evangelicals) make him a successful ambassador to key Republican constituencies, but his experience in government could also enable him to effectively carry out whatever substantive tasks Trump might assign him.
Trump hires people whose apparent adoration for him and ethical flexibility make them perfect toadies — until sooner or later they turn on him.
But until the 2020 election, the defining feature of Pence’s vice presidency was his eagerness to genuflect before his master, in ways that often strayed into the comical, whether it was his regular paeans to the width of Trump’s shoulders (“To be around Donald Trump is to be around a man with broad shoulders”) or his weird habit of mirroring Trump’s behavior.
Yet, when Trump asked him to help carry out a coup against democracy, Pence wavered. He was clearly open to the idea, consulting with legal advisers and even seeking the counsel of Dan Quayle. But in the end, he couldn’t stay loyal to Trump.
Today, we have no indication that anything else matters to Trump, which presents him with a dilemma: If someone with as consistent a record of obsequiousness as Pence could locate his spine at such a key moment, can Trump trust anyone? This is an ongoing problem for Trump: He hires people whose apparent adoration for him and ethical flexibility make them perfect toadies — until sooner or later they turn on him. No president has ever had as many former aides telling the public what a monster their ex-boss is.
Those personal betrayals no doubt weigh on Trump’s choice and, in response, those who want to earn his favor know they have to demonstrate their eagerness to serve with public displays of fealty. That means agreeing with him on his most important issue: election denialism.
Every potential Trump VP will be asked two questions: Will you admit that Joe Biden won the 2020 election? And if Trump loses in 2024, will you accept the results? The answers are usually the same: Not really, and maybe not.
Granted, they answer somewhat vaguely. On 2020, they stress that there were “irregularities” that might make the results invalid, even if they can’t quite bring themselves to say the election was stolen. They won’t promise to accept the 2024 results, since Trump’s position is that he’ll accept them only if the election is “fair,” which we all know means if he wins. Sen. Tim Scott, R-S.C., was asked on “Meet the Press” whether he’d accept the results of the election if Trump lost, and he refused to say yes, only repeating that “I look forward to President Trump being the 47th president.” Rep. Elise Stefanik, R-N.Y., calls Jan. 6 rioters serving jail sentences “hostages,” as Trump does. Sen. JD Vance, R-Ohio, says that unlike Pence, he wouldn’t have certified the results of the 2020 election.
But can Trump be sure? When it really matters, could his next vice president be afflicted with an unfortunate case of integrity? That — and not their qualifications, their competence or their political capabilities — is what is probably keeping him up at night. And it’s the only question that matters to him. Unfortunately, the answer that satisfies Trump is the worst answer for the country.