Who might Donald Trump pick as his running-mate?
DONALD TRUMP has been teasing his choice of running-mate for months. Like contestants on “The Apprentice”, the reality show he used to present, each potential vice-president has been clamouring to impress the boss. Ever the showman, Mr Trump seems to be preparing for a blockbuster announcement around the time of the Republican National Convention, which starts on July 15th.
He will try to pick a running-mate who is strong where he is weak and appeals to voters and donors who have doubts about him. The name that eventually ends up at the top of the Democratic ticket might also affect the choice. But ultimately the decision will come down to Mr Trump’s own unpredictable whims. Here are a handful of Republicans whom The Economist thinks he could plausibly pick as his running-mate.
Doug Burgum, governor of North Dakota, aged 67
Doug Burgum has had a lot of jobs: tech executive, real-estate mogul, venture capitalist and even chimney-sweep. In 2001 his sale of a software company to Microsoft, a tech giant, for $1.1bn earned him a sizeable fortune, which he later funnelled into a successful run to become North Dakota’s governor in 2016. Mr Burgum’s deep pockets and wealthy friends are a big part of his appeal to Mr Trump. That he looks the part—the former president described him as a “central casting” pick—doesn’t hurt, either. Mr Burgum is relatively moderate, and may help calm Republicans uneasy with Mr Trump’s unpredictability. But as an older white man, he offers Mr Trump no inroads with other groups of voters. And despite running for the Republican nomination in 2023, he is not widely known. In the primaries he never polled above single digits. Fearing he would not get the 40,000 donors necessary to qualify for the first debate, he offered anyone who donated $1 or more a $20 gift certificate. Still, Mr Trump might appreciate his willingness to spend on the race. He can also rest assured that Mr Burgum will not steal his spotlight.
Ben Carson, former secretary of Housing and Urban Development, aged 72
Ben Carson’s life story offers a compelling narrative. Raised by a black single mother in Detroit, he led a somewhat wayward youth before straightening himself out, going to Yale and becoming a gifted paediatric neurosurgeon. He ran for the Republican nomination in 2016, pitching himself as an outsider, compelled to run by faith, not ambition. Never likely to win, he caught Mr Trump’s attention while sparring with him on the debate stage and was later appointed secretary of Housing and Urban Development. He was one of the only cabinet members to survive Mr Trump’s whole term, which suggests that he has the loyalty and obsequiousness the former president craves. And he may help win over older black voters and Christians. But Mr Carson is a poor speaker, weak on both content and delivery, and prone to outlandish claims. (He has previously asserted that a Muslim should not be president, that America is in a “Gestapo age” and that Obamacare was the worst thing since slavery.) Given Mr Trump’s fondness for saying outrageous things, tactical nous or jealousy might convince him to opt for a quieter partner.
Tom Cotton, senator from Arkansas, aged 47
Tom Cotton has the characteristic bluntness of the infantrymen he served with in Iraq. A hardline conservative on both foreign and domestic issues, Mr Cotton once proposed an amendment to a bill in Congress that would have punished not only those who violate sanctions against Iran but also their relatives. (It failed.) He supported classic Trumpian positions—such as opposing Obamacare and looking to halt illegal immigration—long before Mr Trump took over the Republican party. And during the former president’s first term he was often called on for advice on foreign affairs, invariably offering hawkish counsel. Mr Cotton has not always publicly agreed with Mr Trump—for example, telling him to accept the result of the 2020 elections and “quit misleading the American people”. But at other times he has kept quiet when his views clash with Mr Trump’s, as in his desire for America’s armed forces to take a muscular role in the world.
Marco Rubio, senator from Florida, aged 53
Marco Rubio probably has more experience in Washington than any of the frontrunners. The son of poor Cuban immigrants, he rose through the party by portraying himself as the embodiment of the American dream. In 2013, three years after he became a senator for Florida, Time magazine christened him “The Republican Saviour”. Then he came up against Mr Trump on the Republican primary campaign trail in 2016, where the two traded withering insults. Among his more memorable barbs was that Mr Trump was “the most vulgar person to ever aspire to the presidency”. But when Mr Trump won, Mr Rubio became a committed Trumpista. He claims the American dream has fallen out of reach because China has taken all the country’s manufacturing jobs. His former zeal for immigration reform has been replaced with vituperation over the “open southern border”. Mr Rubio is a polished media performer: he is well liked within the party and skilled behind the podium. As the God-fearing son of Cuban immigrants, he would help Mr Trump appeal to Hispanic Americans and Christians. And he has foreign-policy expertise. If selected, Mr Rubio would add legislative credibility to the ticket.
Tim Scott, senator from South Carolina, aged 58
If Mr Rubio has abandoned his American dream schtick, Tim Scott embraces it. Like Messrs Carson and Rubio he comes from a poor background and repeatedly pitches the idea that anyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps. He has reason to be optimistic about this. In 2013 he became the first black man to represent a Southern seat in the Senate since 1881. He has since won three races in South Carolina, with at least 60% of the vote each time. By the standards of the modern Republican Party he is not especially ideological, though he does sometimes play the role of a fervent cultural conservative. And he has even on occasion committed the heresy of chastising Mr Trump over his racist remarks. Still, Mr Scott has never strayed too far from the Trump camp, working closely with the former president during his time in office and voting twice against his impeachment. Fond of peppering his speeches with scripture, Mr Scott would help Mr Trump with both Christians and black Americans. But he is an uninspiring pick whose distaste for confrontation means he often fades into the background.
Elise Stefanik, congresswoman from New York, aged 40
Several candidates on this list arrived at their love of Mr Trump via the road to Damascus. Elise Stefanik took the motorway. Back in the mid-2010s the congresswoman from New York balked at the former president’s racist and sexist attitudes and voted against his tax cuts and funding for his border wall. But when Democrats tried to impeach Mr Trump, she denounced the move as “baseless and illegal”. That got her attention and praise from Fox News and Mr Trump’s supporters; donor money poured in. Since then, she has not got off the Trump train. Even during her first campaign, people were suspicious of her as more ambitious than principled. And she sometimes praises Mr Trump with such fervour that seems fake. Still, Ms Stefanik could help Mr Trump win over college-educated, suburban women. And while her naked ambition may make him suspicious of her faith, it might also be the quality that makes her his most useful enabler.
J.D. Vance, senator from Ohio, aged 39
J.D. Vance is another Republican who has undergone a dramatic conversion. He came to prominence because his memoir, “Hillbilly Elegy”, explained, in a way that liberal elites could understand, how America’s white working class could vote for Mr Trump. Back in 2016, the former marine turned venture capitalist was a self-described “never-Trump guy” who thought The Donald might become “America’s Hitler”. Now a Senator for Ohio, he is one of the former president’s most vocal cheerleaders. He even took the time to show up at Mr Trump’s criminal trial in New York to denounce witnesses from outside the courthouse. (Mr Burgum put in an appearance, too.) Like his idol, Mr Vance is fond of both conspiracy and strongmen. He has accused Mr Biden of encouraging Mexican cartels to bring fentanyl, a deadly opioid, into America to kill Republican voters and praised Viktor Orban, Hungary’s populist prime minister. Mr Vance would add little to the ticket in terms of racial or gender diversity. But for Mr Trump, it may be that his most attractive quality is his enthusiasm to kiss the ring he once disdained. ■