JD Vance isn't just thin-skinned — he thinks whining is a winning political strategy

To know Sen. JD Vance is to dislike him. The Ohio Republican was relatively unknown to most Americans before Donald Trump picked him as a running mate, and few, if any, politicians have garnered such a negative reaction in such a short period. It's not just his rants about "childless cat ladies." Focus groups show that voters are well aware that, while Vance publicly praises Trump like he's a god, he talks smack about his boss behind his back. But I suspect, like Heather "Digby" Parton wrote at Salon Monday, "his nasty, cold personality" is a factor in Vance's unpopularity.

Vance can't seem to speak without whining. Every interview with him is a grievance-fest where he plays the victim of "the media," lies while falsely accusing his opponents of lying, and acts put out by inconsequential nonsense. He's as full of self-pity as Trump. Vance can be even more aggravating because, by all accounts, has a great life well beyond what he deserves: a beautiful family he doesn't appear to appreciate, a Senate seat purchased for him by a tech billionaire, and millions of dollars, despite not offering any real value to society or the economy. 

Vance's tendency to whine ad nauseam has not gone unnoticed. Jess Bidgood of the New York Times wrote a report Friday of how Vance reacts to even the most minor press questions with a torrent of complaining, such as when a local TV station reporter asked Vance about Lt. Gov. Mark Robinson, whose Republican campaign for North Carolina's gubernatorial seat has been gone up in smoke after it was revealed he bragged about being a "black NAZI."

“I knew I’d get this,” Vance said, throwing one hand up with the air of a parent allowing a troublesome child to have his say, instead of a candidate for vice president answering a reasonable question.

As Bidgood notes, Vance reacts to practically every question this way, as if he can't believe reporters are even allowed to ask questions, even though they usually only do so after Vance invites them. Adam Wren of Politico also wrote on Saturday about Vance's relentless bellyaching. Often, reporters don't even get the question out before Vance is crying about it, encouraging the crowd of MAGA supporters to boo so loudly that the reporter can't be heard. 

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On Sunday, David Frum of the Atlantic argued that Vance "seethes with petty peevishness." But Frum also appears to believe that Vance is acting like a brat on accident. For instance, Vance threw a fit on CNN after host Dana Bash asked him why he lies about Haitians eating cats. The freshman senator insisted he was forced to lie by "the media," because they otherwise won't cover the stories he wants them to. Frum paints this tantrum as a "mistake," an impulsive admission by a thin-skinned bully who let his ego get the better of him. Frum also views Vance's aggrieved responses whenever he's asked about "cat ladies" in the same light, as Vance's childish inability to control his petulant emotions. 

Perhaps, but looking at the reporting from the New York Times and Politico — and adding my own experience observing Vance — I'd say the likelier explanation is that Vance thinks whining is a political strategy. The would-be vice president is a man who spends an excessive amount of time online and in conversation with alt-right, incel-adjacent posters and Elon Musk. He inhabits a space populated by right-wing windbags who have convinced each other, through endless repetition, that they are the most put-upon people in history. Having spent that much time in that toxic brew, Vance has come to believe that griping non-stop is political gold. 

It's been well-documented how much of Vance's linguistic tics, allusions, and ideas stem from what Martyn Wendell Jones of the Bulwark describes as the "hyper-online far-right milieu." Vance was mentored and funded by Silicon Valley billionaires who imagine themselves to be bold and edgy thinkers because they embrace "neo-reactionary" views, which is just a fancy term for fascism. It's a movement that imagines itself to be intellectually heady, replete with allusions to ancient writers and philosophers that mostly go unread. In practice, as Ginny Hogan at the Nation wrote, it's mostly defined by the childish behavior of men who should have outgrown this long ago: silly memes, lazy trolling and lots of whining.

Nothing is too small or light to avoid being sucked into the vortex of the extremely online right's decade-plus of endless griping. As Hogan documents, Vance caterwauled about everything, from TV shows being "woke" to — always — "cat ladies." It's a world full of men like Musk and Vance, who think they are unbearably clever but are incapable of even coming up with a new way to insult people, beyond accusing them of having pets. The result is a life of perpetual outrage because the rest of the world seems uninterested in flattering them endlessly about how they are the greatest, smartest, funniest, best boys of all time. 

In the dull world of the extremely online right, where "cat lady" is forever the sickest of burns, it is also common to mistake throwing a tantrum for strength. "Free speech" is defined as "we speak, you listen — and faint in adoration." Live in that space long enough and you start to think that yelling at a reporter for asking a question isn't embarrassing behavior. No, in the online MAGA world, sputtering "How dare you!" at a journalist for doing their job is regarded as a feat of strength on par with storming the beach at Normandy. It's tempting to see Vance whining yet again and assume that he's sorely in need of therapy. That may be so, but it's also true that his online space is a culture where whimpering like a spoiled child is mistaken for toughness, and he's forgotten that most people are rightfully grossed out by it. 

Social media generally breeds this problem of people getting so enmeshed in their subcultures that they forget that most people don't share their jargon or euphemisms. That can be relatively innocent, such as Swifties forgetting most people haven't memorized all the details of Taylor Swift's dating career. It can be self-defeating, such as Twitter-addicted leftists who forget most people don't see socialism as the obvious solution to all problems. It can turn into cults like QAnon. But what Vance's special sandbox of alt-right dudes shares is this bottomless sense of grievance, which they mistake for a manly virtue, instead of a sign of arrested development.  

As I've written about before, many on the left and in the media assume the Trump campaign regrets the Vance pick, but in truth, it seems Trump and his allies are pleased since they share Vance's view that petulance is strength. We were reminded of this again on Sunday when Donald Trump Jr. told Fox Business that Vance is "outstanding" and "Every time I watch him, whether it’s the Sunday morning shows, just dismantling the left on their home turf — I just feel totally vindicated in all of that decision." He might be BS-ing, but really, I think he means it. Trump Jr. is also a consummate crybaby, complaining to every camera about every little thing. So of course he feels this way. But it's hard to imagine that most Americans will start liking Vance after they hear him pull the "woe is me" act for the full length of tonight's debate.