Initially hailed as an inspired choice to inherit the Maga movement, James David Vance has fast proved a liability to the Trump campaign: Democrats are successfully branding him as a creepy manosphere specimen; his stances on abortion, IVF and women without children have rightly made him a focal point for criticizing the right’s obsession with controlling women’s bodies. Then there’s the issue of whether he’s really the man to mansplain Appalachia to the rest of us, given that he grew up in a city in Ohio.
But one story about the junior senator continues to be accepted at face value: Vance as champion of a new “right-populism” that puts the working class first. There are no policy proposals that would vindicate that image; what’s more, Vance’s career has been financed by a nefarious combination of rightwing tech bros and the fossil fuel industry: those who have no problem polluting the public sphere with misinformation and disinformation and those profiting from polluting the atmosphere. Both are prime promoters of the libertarianism that “right-populists” supposedly disavow.
Vance claims to want to break with corporate donors who care only about cheap labor resulting from a continuous influx of migrants. No doubt the Republican party’s promise to reduce immigration is real, as is the cruel plan for mass deportations – whether it will result in higher wages is anyone’s guess. One thing is sure, though: the other supposedly populist policy – raising tariffs on cheap imports – will make the already worst-off even worse off.
Meanwhile, there’s no talk of raising taxes on the wealthy, in particular closing the loopholes that infamously allow hedge fund and private equity managers to have lower tax rates than their secretaries. Instead, Trump promises to reduce the corporate tax rate even further.
Vance touts Hungarian strongman Viktor Orbán as his model; the latter stands for an unembarrassed use of state power to enforce public morality (no same-sex marriages in Hungary!) and industrial policies in the national interest. But Orbán has also introduced a flat-rate personal income tax and the world’s highest value-added tax – which of course disproportionately falls on poorer Hungarians. If this is indeed the model, America’s billionaires will have no problem with Vance’s supposed “working-class conservatism”.
Vance talks the talk of extracting the American right from libertarianism; yet, if one follows the money, a different picture is revealed. His career has been financed by reactionary venture capitalists such as Peter Thiel as well as the fossil fuel industry, who share a desire for deregulation wrapped in propaganda about “American freedom”. Vance himself has worked as a venture capitalist and is now part of a Republican ticket committed to abolishing regulations of social media, cryptocurrency, and AI. The party’s platform calls for a repeal of Biden’s executive order on responsible and, not least, worker-friendly development of AI.
The irony is that the great champions of freedom and unleashing tech power are at the same time advocates of monopoly power: they really don’t like Biden’s robust anti-trust approach. They also often crucially depend on state contracts. No doubt Palantir, Thiel’s “big data analytics” firm whose central promise is effective surveillance, will want to be helpful with mass deportations.
It might not just be a crude desire for taxpayer dollars which animates Silicon Valley’s new Trumpists, though; it can also be a philosophical vision. That doesn’t make things any better. Venture capitalist Marc Andreessen, newly converted to Trumpism, authored the Techno-Optimist Manifesto, which proclaims a belief in “accelerationism – the conscious and deliberate propulsion of technological development”. What many portentous pronouncements on human evolution boil down to is a simple demand: no restraints on developing AI, as well as an all-out commitment to nuclear power and a weird celebration of population growth as, according to Andreessen, “our planet is dramatically underpopulated”.
Without naming its source, Andreessen quotes the manifesto of the Futurists – the artists who at the beginning of the 20th century worshiped technology as well as a kind of cleansing of the word through war – and who eventually became major promoters of Mussolini’s Fascism. Declaring himself a conqueror, not a victim, Andreesen rails against “a mass demoralization campaign … against technology and against life”, which supposedly has been going on for “six decades” “under varying names like … ‘sustainability’ … and … ‘social responsibility’”.
The representatives of nothing less than life itself want to step on the pedal – and ask us to simply to trust a self-appointed elite of accelerationist visionaries.
Vance might be the first champion of accelerationism in the White House – but he’s also an old-fashioned fossil fuel lobbyist who has weaponized climate in rightwing culture war. He’s associated renewables and electric vehicles with China – his (unsuccessful) Drive America Act suggested that buying gas and diesel cars is the only way of being a good patriot. Passively receiving wind and sunshine is also obviously not for real men; drilling makes for what scholars have called “petromasculinity”.
Vance is all at once a nationalistic natalist (“breed, baby, breed!” for the nation), a promoter of fossil fuel industries (“drill, baby, drill!”), and a conduit of accelerationism (“break things, baby, break things!”). Given how unpopular he’s proven in polls, it does not seem like this is a vision for which Americans care. It’s also not the break with libertarianism that pundits praising the Republicans’ supposed turn to workers think it is. But there’s a hell of a lot of money backing it.
Jan-Werner Müller is a professor of politics at Princeton University and a Guardian US columnist
