With the polarization that is falling in the United States, the debate held in New York this Tuesday between vice presidential candidates was certainly an unusual spectacle. One (Democrat Tim Walz) said so much to the other (Republican JD Vance) how much they agreed on this or that issue and how much they understood each other personally, that at times it seemed that if it weren’t for the existence of their respective bosses, a certain Kamala Harris and Donald Trump, both subordinates would throw their hair into the sea and would immediately go to the bar of a bar to talk over a few beers about their small-town boy things: Valentine (Nebraska), the first; Middletown (Ohio), the second.
Perhaps it could have been due to what the cliché says about the “kindness of the Midwest”, the region where they were born, whose paroxysm, as this cliché abounds, awaits in Minnesota, the State of which Walz is governor. Or it could be that Vance came with a strategy: ingratiate himself with his rival to better attack Harris.
It was also urgent for him to present himself to his compatriots beyond the ridiculous memes and wild statements about women without children, but with cats, or about immigrants who eat pets. And so it was: he did not spare the usual portion of lies, exaggerations and half-truths, but at least he put aside the conspiracy theories that fuel his boss’s nightmare world, as well as those bravado that Vance unleashes at rallies (without going any further , last Saturday, when he linked the mass deportation of migrants that Trump promises with a Christian design). In other words, the Republican candidate put on not only a blue suit and a (fuchsia?) tie, but also the equipment of a sensible person and politician capable of practicing bipartisanship, even empathy.
He called everyone by their first name over and over again: “Tim [Walz]this”, “Margaret [Brennan, una de las dos moderadoras de la CBS]the other.” When talking about abortion, he was brought to tears (he must have been moved by the idea that no one would remember his extremist positions on the matter and that in the past he has supported its almost total ban). And when, in the discussion block about the Pandemic of gun violence in American schools, Walz recalled that his 17-year-old son had witnessed a shooting at a community center “while playing volleyball,” Vance shook his head ruefully. and, upon recovering his words, he said to his opponent: “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know anything. “Christ, have mercy.” Although the climax came when he assured that if his rival ended up defeating him, he would be able to count on his “prayers”, his “best wishes” and his “help, if necessary.”
And that’s how the debate – in which there was no shortage of clashes on issues such as immigration, the only moment in which they had to cut off their microphones, or the assault on the Capitol (the Republican stated that what happened to Trump when he left the White House was “a peaceful transfer of power”)― ended with both opponents shaking hands and introducing each other to their respective wives.
A nervous start
By then, Walz seemed much less nervous than at the beginning of the face-to-face, an outburst during which he pursed his lips in dismay and lowered his eyes when it was not his turn to jot down ideas on a piece of paper on the lectern. On the first question – about Iran’s missile attack on Israel, the topic of the day – the governor of Minnesota got a little stuck, while to his right Vance seemed calm and self-assured, before remembering, as if presenting credentials to the audience, her personal story: humble origins, her mother addicted to opiates, and her upbringing by her grandmother, a strong-armed Appalachian woman.
Walz – born in “a town of 400 souls”, a member of the National Guard, a teacher (“and I think one of the good ones”) and American football coach – also made use of biographical literature. The problem was that he ended up tangled in his memory when they asked him why he embellished a memory about his time in China in 1989. “Sometimes, I’m an airhead,” he excused himself.
His best moment, and perhaps that of the entire debate, came at the end. It happened shortly before the bell rang, when the governor looked at Vance and asked him if he really believed Trump had won the election, as the former president continues to baselessly defend almost four years later. He did not answer, because, he said, he prefers to focus “on the future.” Walz briefly abandoned his Minnesota friendliness and replied, “That’s a baseless answer that compromises you.”
