“We did not have a lot of money,” said JD Vance, placing hand on heart as he recalled his childhood in Middletown, Ohio in the 1990s. “I was raised by a woman who struggled often to put food on the table and clothes on her back.”
There was an earnest cry from the audience. “Mamaw!” shouted a man.
Smiling at the reference to his grandmother, the US vice-president said: “Everybody loves Mamaw. Most of all me.” But there was also a political point to the story: despite the hardships, Vance insisted, Mamaw never had to worry about violent crime until Democrats sabotaged law and order.
The 41-year-old used this routine appearance in Concord, North Carolina last September to present himself as a hardline warrior with a heart. It was a snapshot of a man who has emerged as both the most aggressive defender of Donald Trump and a 2028 candidate in stealth mode.
It is a delicate balancing act that sees Vance trying to preserve the populist bombast of his boss while carving out a distinct persona of his own. In this he is aided by the one centre of power in which his connections surpass Trump’s: Silicon Valley, where AI investments are driving the US economy and shaping the future.
On the eve of his first anniversary as first in line to the presidency, the vice-president now finds himself promoting views he once opposed. On foreign intervention, free speech and government transparency, Vance has quietly reversed course, shrugged off inconsistencies or simply ignored them – all while positioning himself as the heir to Trump’s movement.
Joe Walsh, a former Republican congressman turned Democrat, said: “He’s absolutely risen to the occasion: he’s a thoroughly despicable, dishonest toady for Donald Trump, and he’s doing it wonderfully.
“He’s the clear frontrunner because he’s utterly shameless and he’s done and said everything that Trump wants him to do and say. He’s done a great job and positioned himself to be the guy.”
***
Vance has become ever more prominent in recent months. He embarked on a high-stakes diplomatic mission to Israel to secure a fragile ceasefire with Hamas. He was Trump’s enforcer on issues such as redistricting and a record long government shutdown. He provoked criticism when said he hoped his wife, Usha Vance, who is of Indian heritage and raised in a Hindu family, would ultimately convert to his own Catholic faith.
Vance was the face of the administration’s response to the assassination of rightwing activist Charlie Kirk, escorting Kirk’s casket from Utah to Arizona on Air Force Two and guest-hosting Kirk’s podcast from his ceremonial office. Once a staunch defender of controversial speech against “censorship”, he demanded retribution against anyone perceived as celebrating the murder.
Although the vice-president was conspicuous by his absence from a makeshift situation room at Mar-a-Lago where Trump directed an attack on Venezuela, he was back at his boss’s side for a White House meeting with oil executives to effectively carve up the country’s resources. When Trump stepped away to admire the site of his future ballroom, Vance grinned widely and shot an amused glance at secretary of state Marco Rubio, a potential 2028 rival.
That same week Vance had put himself front and centre of the White House’s reaction to the fatal shooting of Renee Good, a 37-year-old poet and mother, by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency (ICE) officer in Minneapolis. He berated the media and blamed the victim: “I can believe that her death is a tragedy, while also recognizing that it’s a tragedy of her own making and a tragedy of the far left who has marshalled an entire movement – a lunatic fringe – against our law enforcement officers.”
Vance is running a shadow presidential campaign in all but name. In March he was appointed finance chair of the Republican National Committee (RNC), a role unprecedented for a sitting vice-president that allows frequent interactions with mega-donors. For the past 12 months he has been quietly travelling the country, building contacts and defining himself as both adjacent to but distinct from Trump.
In September’s stop at an airport hangar in North Carolina, he wore a dark blue suit, white shirt and red tie unmistakably reminiscent of the president. Hundreds of people had come to see him. Levi Baldwin, 62, a former pharmaceutical industry worker, said: “He’s one of us. He didn’t come up in the ruling class. He struggled and living through that helped him build a lot of character. It’s a wonderful story. It’s kind of the American story.”
Wally Wallace, 78, a military veteran from Harrisburg, North Carolina: “He’s got backbone and not afraid to speak up. That’s what I like. I don’t like a wimp. The thing that he and Trump have is they know how to connect to people. They’re real. It’s not a bunch of fake stuff. It’s not like it’s canned.”
Ben Venskus, 42, a management consultant wearing a red Make America Great Again cap, had brought his 11-year-old son. He said: “Vance has an opportunity to do something that Trump won’t be able to do because of the amount of hate from the public against Trump. Vance has an opportunity to grow the Republican party into something greater than Maga because he wasn’t originally a Maga guy.”
Vance spoke from a lectern flanked by officers in uniform and against a backdrop of armoured police vehicles and giant US flags. He championed law and order and defended hardline immigration enforcement. He falsely claimed that Democrats had failed to denounce the killing of rightwing activist Charlie Kirk. He spoke of the American dream and “the sacred obligation” of passing on a better life to the next generation.
Vance also joked about how “cussing” would upset conservatives in the room. He complimented “a beautiful baby”, posed for photos with a boy who was skipping school and looked at ease fielding questions from reporters.
Reflecting on the stabbing to death of a 23-year-old Ukrainian refugee on a light rail train in North Carolina, he told the crowd: “I have three little kids, and my youngest is a baby girl, three years old. She is the apple of my eye. As dads will know, daughters get away with more stuff, don’t they?”
He went on: “But I look at this [Ukrainian] girl, who is 23 years old … If you are man – I don’t care what skin colour you are, rich or poor – but if you are a man and you see the pleading eyes of a girl looking up for protection, we have to protect our girls and our women in this country.”
Vance also railed against Democrats and the “fake news” media. He said: “If you want to stop political violence, stop attacking our law enforcement as the Gestapo. If you want to stop political violence, stop telling your supporters that everybody who disagrees with you is a Nazi. If you want to stop political violence, looking in the mirror.”
There was some irony in the reference to Nazis. During the 2016 presidential election, Vance wrote that he goes “back and forth between thinking Trump is a cynical a–hole like Nixon who wouldn’t be that bad (and might even prove useful) or that he’s America’s Hitler”.
In her book, 107 Days, former vice-president Kamala Harris describes Vance as a “shape-shifter” and “a shifty guy”. Gregg Nunziata, executive director of the Society for the Rule of Law, posted on X in 2025: “I knew the VP a bit, not well, 10 years ago. I thought well of him. I’ll never understand how he became who he has become. Of course, the ideology changed, but the dishonesty and pettiness, that’s the worst of it.”
***
Vance was once best known as the author of Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis, drawing on his upbringing in Ohio and Kentucky, which came to be seen as a Rosetta Stone for understanding the rise of Trump.
But his path to the White House was backed by those on the other side of the economic spectrum: some of the most powerful men in tech, who for years have used their wealth and influence to further his political ambitions.
Following a six-year stint working at largely tech-focused venture capital firms, Vance began his political career with an Ohio senate run that billionaire Palantir founder Peter Thiel bankrolled with $15m in campaign financing.
It was Thiel who personally lobbied Trump to select Vance for vice president, and he has remained a champion: telling a crowd at one of his off-the-record lectures last year on the Antichrist that he is “very pro-JD Vance”.
Other connections to big tech also helped his path to the White House. While he hosted a $300,000-a-plate fundraising dinner at billionaire investor David Sacks’ San Francisco mansion during the early days of the 2024 presidential campaign, a room full of wealthy tech donors gathered for Vance all encouraged Trump to select him as a running mate. (Sacks, a political ally of Vance, was later selected as the administration’s AI and Crypto Czar.)
Elon Musk, the tech titan and Trump’s biggest financial backer, also personally advocated for Vance and repeatedly touted his nomination – declaring to his over 200 million followers on X that the Trump-Vance ticket “resounds with victory”.
The relationship between Vance and Musk stayed close even after the Tesla CEO’s very public spat with Trump last summer, which initially threatened to be a permanent rift. Vance played a central role in mending ties between Musk and Trump, according to the Washington Post, including personally appealing to Musk and urging him to back off plans to launch his own political party.
Vance also heavily lobbied for Musk’s preferred choice to head NASA, Jared Isaacman, helping to successfully resurrect a candidate that Trump had earlier publicly rejected. Last month, Musk told a gathering of former Doge employees that he predicted two terms of a Vance presidency.
As the tech industry continues to undergo a rightward shift under Trump, Vance has eagerly embraced the role of tech’s man in Washington.
As vice president, he has championed many of Silicon Valley’s anti-regulation views and functioned as a bridge between Maga world and the tech right. One of Vance’s earliest acts in office was a closely-watched address at the Artificial Intelligence Action Summit in Paris last February, where he told world leaders the US would pursue “pro-growth” AI policy and claimed that “the AI future is not going to be won by hand-wringing about safety”. The UK renamed its AI Safety Institute to become the AI Security Institute later that month.
And when the UK government attempted to force Apple to provide law enforcement a backdoor to access to encrypted data, it was Vance who led a furious public charge that forced the Home Office to back down.
Vance has made numerous appearances to talk tech, including as featured guest at a live event for the immensely popular All-In podcast which Sacks co-hosts. Perhaps Vance’s most revealing appearance, however, was as the keynote speaker last March at venture capital firm Andreessen Horowitz’s American Dynamism Summit. During a period of tension between Silicon Valley’s pro-Trump elites and the Republican Party’s populist base, he lauded the audience of tech executives for their work and assured them that tech had an important place within the Maga movement.
“It’s time to align the interests of our technology firms with the interests of the United States of America writ large,” Vance said.
***
A RealClearPolitics poll average late last year put Vance at 48.8% for the Republican nomination in 2028, far ahead of Donald Trump Jr on 11% and Rubio on 9.3%. In December Kirk’s widow, Erika, threw the support of Turning Point USA and its young army of volunteers behind him. Earlier this month Glenn Youngkin, the governor of Virginia, said Vance would be a “great, great presidential nominee”.
The vice-president plans to travel extensively in 2026, ostensibly to campaign for Republicans in the midterms, but also to lay the groundwork for a presidential run two years later. He will be able to earn political capital, deepen local networks and sharpen his skills on the stump. But loyalty will remain his watchword since he is aware that any overt eagerness risks rubbing Trump the wrong way.
Vance is also steering clear of the internecine wars among celebrity Maga podcasters. Public spats over antisemitism and foreign policy provided a noisy backdrop to his recent appearance at AmericaFest, where he urged Republicans to resist “endless, self-defeating purity tests” and emphasised he “didn’t bring a list of conservatives to denounce or de-platform”.
Instead, with Don Jr’s likely backing, he will seek to present himself as a natural unifier. Larry Jacobs, director of the Center for the Study of Politics and Governance at the University of Minnesota, said: “He’s well along into the Trump dynasty. That is going to be his calling card. ‘I am the guy who can continue Donald Trump’s agenda.’
“Now, whether JD Vance has the skill, whether there is enough support for him, that’s an open question and that’s going to be a real battle.”
Stepping into Trump’s shoes would be a daunting prospect and unique challenge for anyone. The president continues to tease a third White House run in 2028 and, while this is not permitted by the constitution, it does point to a deeper truth: that he will be unwilling to cede the limelight to any would-be successor, lest he be seen as a lame-duck president.
Michael Steele, a co-host of MS Now’s The Weeknight and former chairman of the Republican National Committee, said: “JD Vance, Marco Rubio, any of these so-called wannabe inheritors of Trump’s mantle are gonna have to deal with two things. One, Donald Trump, and two, they’re not Trump. It becomes real tricky and it’s gonna be messy.
“Donald Trump, for all we know, could come out and say he taps Donald Trump Jr. Then what do they do? Are they all going to fall in line or are they going to challenge? Donald Trump Jr for president? That’s as a legitimate a part of the conversation as anybody else running for president in Trump world.
“That’s why I laugh at all this ‘JD Vance is the heir apparent’. No, he’s not. The only thing apparent is that he’s not the heir.”
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