At Grand Rapids in Michigan, in his first rally since an attempt on his life, Donald Trump paused from the usual maundering speech to tell the vast crowd about a 900-page document drawn up by a right-wing think-tank.
He readily confessed to being vague about the document’s contents, saying only that it was “extreme”. For the former president, apparently, this word carries no pejorative charge.
The think-tank in question is the Heritage Foundation, though Trump was equally unclear who exactly they were. “Like, some on the right, severe right, came up with this Project 25,” he mused. “I don’t even know, some of them I know who they are, but they’re very, very conservative. They’re sort of the opposite of the radical left.”
Trump continued to riff on his ignorance. “They are extreme, they’re seriously extreme. But I don’t know anything about it, I don’t want to know anything about it.”
The Independent subsequently reported on the Project’s plans. They include an end to abortion, mass deportations of migrants, and the wholesale firing of civil servants, replacing them all with Trump supporters.
For a man who made a TV career of saying “You’re fired”, this should not sound complex, while his choice for vice president, JD Vance, has been eager to advocate that particular civil service policy for a while. But then Vance is a Yale man.
Understanding Vance
Many Trump supporters had never heard of Vance. Even for the political pundits who knew something of him, the choice was hard to understand, not because it felt wrong, but because Vance is such a complex individual.
Trump’s choice for his first term was a lot simpler. Mike Pence was a solemn, pious counterfoil to Trump’s erratic oration, celebrity background, and lively private life.
Pence was the straight man to Trump’s comic turns, forever standing behind the president, stiff, unflappable, quietly approving. Then Trump lost the election, cried foul, and insurrectionists marched on the Capitol intent on hanging Trump’s VP.
Vance is a very different kettle of fish. Almost half Trump’s age, with a beard of the kind Trump reportedly considers unhygienic, he is unlikely to emulate Pence’s stiff impassivity.
In trying to assess Vance’s significance, commentators quote his working-class roots in Ohio and his populism (both novelties in the current Republican milieu), his popular autobiography Hillbilly Elegy, and his spell in the Marines.
What they miss is perhaps the most intriguing bit: Vance was once a denizen of Silicon Valley. His start-up was financed by Peter Thiel, a billionaire and talented mathematician who made his fortune founding PayPal with Elon Musk.