Vance is the future of America. The hillbilly who emerged from the deep nowhere of a marginalised and forgotten America, iconically portrayed in Hillbilly Elegy, is the figure to watch if one wishes to understand the new power balances taking shape in Trump-led America and across the wider West. Vance is no conventional vice-president, nor is he simply the anointed heir to the White House should the Republicans prevail in four years’ time. That ‘JD’ has long been warming up for a presidential run is no secret. Yet his ambition goes far beyond that of a designated successor waiting patiently on the side lines.
Vance has no intention of remaining in the shadow of Trump – however overwhelming the latter’s personality. From the outset of his mandate, he has sought instead to shape and influence the President’s vision and decisions. He embodies, quite deliberately, the ‘other soul’ of the presidency – one that aspires to guide policies, choices and worldviews. He makes no attempt to conceal his desire to act as Trump’s ideological inspirer. And beyond the rhetoric he deploys – as during the high-profile confrontation with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky on the latter’s first visit to the White House – Vance’s posture and positions reflect not only a brand of American machismo, but also a set of values deeply rooted in European culture, particularly that of Christian Europe.
It is worth recalling that just days before that tense face-off, Vance made his debut as a recent convert before the audience of the National Catholic Prayer Breakfast – an annual event inspired by John Paul II that brings together some 1,500 figures from the Catholic world in Washington. That was the moment when Trump’s deputy, with rare political acumen and an almost prophetic sense of timing, laid down the four ‘cornerstones’ of his mandate. He effectively ‘Catholicised’ the President’s agenda, opening up a new horizon that departed from the traditional positions and sensibilities of American Catholic conservatism. Above all, he chose not to confront the Pope or the bishops, instead implicitly positioning himself as the new leader of American Catholicism – a movement that, from now on, cannot hope to wield real influence on Capitol Hill without him.
Vance has claimed for the new administration not only the defence of religious freedom and pro-life causes, but also the promotion of a ‘peace first’ foreign policy, which he has described as fully aligned with the Church’s social doctrine. It is a peace to be achieved at any cost, by fair means or foul, very much in the American style. Behind Trump’s determination to end the wars between Israel and Hamas, and Russia and Ukraine, behind the staunch defence of Taiwan’s independence and the warnings issued to Tehran’s theocratic regime, there lies more than a quest for military dominance or a confrontation with China. What inspires this stubborn brand of ‘pacifism’ is Vance’s own geopolitical vision as a Catholic. And it is to the Church of Rome that the Vice-President addresses himself, seeing it as an ally in the great battle to defend the Christian West.
This is all the more significant at a time when the Chair of Saint Peter is occupied by an American Pope who has shown no prejudice against Washington, but rather a healthy pragmatism. Pope Leo XIV has, in recent months, demonstrated a certain attentiveness, if not outright sympathy, towards the Catholic soul of America. He has engaged in sustained dialogue, particularly with its more conservative wing, which was marginalised under his predecessor. It is not inconceivable that the presence of a Catholic vice-president could prove an asset – even provide a privileged diplomatic channel.
From the very start of his tenure, Vance has worked to mend rifts that had strained relations in previous years on so-called ‘sensitive’ issues, by seeking dialogue with the Holy See to heal misunderstandings that, under Francis, had side lined the American Catholic community – especially its more conservative prelates. It is precisely this new, pragmatic Christianity that J D Vance wants to bring back to centre stage. In this role, he aspires to act as a bridge between the two sides of the Atlantic, lending strength and perspective not only to today’s policies, but above all to those of tomorrow. This function will almost certainly lie at the heart of his future – and increasingly plausible – presidency.
To understand Vance, then, one must grasp that quasi-messianic tone, that distinctly American spirit which informs both his domestic and foreign policy. It also taps into another enduring dream among many Americans: the return of a Catholic president to the White House, who is capable – like Kennedy – of imbuing history with a higher purpose. The United States will once again be the flame of the West, inspired by faith. American Catholicism will step out of the shadows and reclaim its public voice. This is its great opportunity, and Vance is its apostle – the right man at the right time.
Since his election, Vance has never missed a chance to reaffirm this missionary vision. He did so recently in Munich, delivering his message with the ferocity of a boxer, bluntly proclaiming the end of Europe. His argument was clear: the old continent of nation states has shelved its ancient values, starting with Christianity, in favour of the abstractions of a Godless European Union. In doing so, it has lost its soul.
Having landed the first blow, the second followed swiftly with the ‘Greenland affair’. Here too, his support for presidential interventionism was no accident and made considerable noise. The White House’s idea of offering every inhabitant of the Arctic peninsula $100,000 to sell their land to the US government was no joke, Vance growled at stunned journalists. His tone was that of the all-American hero, gun and badge in hand – a Bruce Willis archetype. The Vice-President and his boss are known to relish their roles as protagonists of a modern-day Wild West epic, each serving the other, even when their statements appear unscripted. That, too, is nothing new.
Yet behind it all there is more than mere arrogance. This is not simply ‘good old-fashioned imperialism’, though it must be said that Americans have never lacked a taste for it. In fact, more wars have been launched by polished Democratic presidents than by their Republican counterparts. Republicans have historically been patriots, prioritising domestic interests and often chafing at the burden of managing the world’s fate when dragged into it. And yet, the current administration’s activism seems to contradict that established script.
Beyond Vance’s religious worldview, however, the ambitions of President and Vice-President converge. What truly binds them is a desire to make history, or rather, to enter it. Trump wants to be remembered as one of America’s great presidents. Vance, for his part, embraces an idea of America rooted in the pioneer spirit and guided by the words of the Gospel.
For the Vice-President, every act and every duty is part of a divine design, a mission entrusted to him by a higher power. Whether instrumental or sincere, this is the essence of the Vance Doctrine. The man who whispers in the ear of the White House occupant has long sought to infuse this messianic fervour, this self-image as saviour of the West, as anointed guardian of the righteous cause, into the dossiers that land on the desk of the world’s most powerful man – who appears not entirely averse to doing battle against the empires of evil, with China and Russia foremost among them, provided it does not clash with his personal financial interests. Pecunia non olet, as the Romans said.
If Trump often approaches foreign policy like a trader attempting to buy what he cannot seize by force, Vance sees himself as Richard the Lionheart on crusade. Both, however, subscribe to the logic of strength – their objectives justified by the certainty of commanding the world’s most powerful army. We have seen it in the Venezuelan blitz and in the claims over Greenland – and this is only the beginning.
This doctrine, a blend of gunslinger threats and fur-trader offers, is the true doctrine of this administration. Its aim is to Make America Great Again, out of the conviction that this is what God demands. Sic Deus vult, as the Crusaders used to say. When prayers are no longer enough, out come the guns.
Europe, meanwhile, utterly alien to this spirit of missionary conquest, staggers on like a punch-drunk boxer, failing to grasp the activism of its former American cousins and retreating behind the sophistries of international law. Macron and his peers cry out in indignation. Yet the procedures and legal niceties of the old continent are little more than junk to be tossed aside by those who hold power in Washington. They never tire of saying so – and they are not joking.
Europe would do well to take note and devise a Plan B. Otherwise, it may find itself subjected to the Vance Doctrine for the next decade, by fair means or foul. Can the weary old continent rise to the challenge? Or will dear old England once again pull the chestnuts out of the fire? Who knows. It would hardly be the first time.
Stefano Davide Bettera is a journalist, writer, and columnist for the newspaper Il Riformista and the magazine Nazione Futura.
