Once a non-incumbent secures the presidential nomination, the political media obsesses over who might get picked for a running mate, with some justification.
Beyond any short-term political impact (of which there is usually little), the vice-presidential pick is an early window into how the party’s nominee plans to govern.
This year, the non-incumbent is the former incumbent, Donald Trump. We already know how he governs. Whether he picks a firebrand like Senator J.D. Vance of Ohio or a milquetoast politician like North Dakota Governor Doug Burgum, Trump will still govern like Trump.
Nevertheless, the septuagenarian’s pick could be far more meaningful than the average VP selection, even if Trump loses. Whoever he picks could shape the post-Trump Republican Party.
Watching Republicans debase themselves to curry Trump’s favor in hopes of getting picked is pathetic to watch. But the logic behind the sycophancy is sound.
Four years ago, I calculated the rates of vice presidents, governors, and senators who became president since America’s founding and concluded the best way to become president is to become vice president. And it’s not a close contest. About one-third of America’s vice presidents went on to become president, one way or another. For senators, it’s one out of every 124. For governors, it’s one out of every 145.
Vice presidents have a solid track record in the modern era of presidential primaries, which started in 1972. Nearly every active or former VP who ran won their party’s nomination, including Walter Mondale, George H. W. Bush, Al Gore, and Joe Biden.
The exceptions are Dan Quayle and Mike Pence, two Hoosiers with the misfortunate of running against either an old running mate’s son or an old running mate. (You could also count Hubert Humphrey, who lost the 1972 primary but already won a presidential nomination while serving as vice president in 1968, albeit on the convention floor.)
Granted, if Trump wins his second term, his vice president will still have to worry that someone else named Trump will run in 2028. Nevertheless, in a presidential primary, being vice president is better than not being vice president.
What if Trump loses? Even in that event, having been a vice presidential nominee increases one’s stature.
The historical influence of vice presidential losers is spottier than that of actual vice presidents. For example, no failed non-incumbent vice presidential nominee has become president since Franklin D. Roosevelt. And none after becoming the party’s presidential nominee except for Bob Dole—and that was in 1996, 20 years after President Gerald Ford tapped the Kansan to be his running mate over incumbent Vice President Nelson Rockefeller.
But others landed impressive gigs. California Governor Earl Warren, Thomas Dewey’s 1948 running mate on the Republican ticket, became one of the most consequential Supreme Court Chief Justices ever. Senator Lloyd Bentsen of Texas, Democrat Michael Dukakis’s 1988 veep pick, helped manage a gangbusters economy as Treasury Secretary under Bill Clinton. Representative Paul Ryan, chosen by Mitt Romney to be his running mate in 2012, leaped over more senior leadership to become the Speaker of the House in 2015, helping hold the GOP together and avoiding politically costly government shutdowns after John Boehner’s departure during Barack Obama’s second term.
Several vice presidential nominees in the past two decades were at least poised to play a dominant role in their parties and only failed to do so in part because of their own poor choices.
Senator Joe Lieberman made history as the first Jewish vice presidential nominee of a major party in 2000. He led several early 2004 Democratic primary polls. But his fervent support of the Iraq War permanently damaged his relationship with Democratic primary voters, and his campaign tanked. In 2006, when he sought a fourth term in the U.S. Senate, he lost the Democratic primary, prompting him to leave the party (though he was reelected as an independent). In 2008, he backed John McCain, who briefly considered picking Lieberman as his running mate. The man who defeated Lieberman in the 2006 Senate primary, Ned Lamont, is now Connecticut’s governor and spoke at Lieberman’s funeral this spring.
After a promising but unsuccessful presidential run, John Edwards was tapped to be the 2004 vice presidential nominee precisely because so many Democrats thought the smooth-talking young Southerner was the party’s future. Yet he had difficulty getting traction in a 2008 presidential primary field that featured superstars Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. He still probably would have been a prime candidate for a top Cabinet post, except in the summer of 2008, the National Enquirer uncovered irrefutable evidence he fathered a child out of wedlock while his wife was dying of cancer, obliterating his political future. Edwards had gone on national television to deny paternity and set up an elaborate ruse where a top campaign aide claimed to be the father.
Sarah Palin wowed Republican crowds in the 2008 fall campaign even if her incendiary rhetoric and shaky media interviews unnerved her running mate McCain, who ended the campaign participating in a Saturday Night Live sketch that mocked her for using party funds on expensive clothes and looking ahead to 2012. She likely would have been a frontrunner in the next primary. But in 2009, she quit her job as governor before completing a single term so she could cash out with a reality TV show, a Fox News contract, and book deals. That might pass for statesmanship today, but at the time, it seemed disqualifying. She considered a run and was polling second behind Mitt Romney in 2011 but ultimately decided not to enter the race. She lost a bid for Alaska’s at-large seat in the U.S. House in 2022, the first time in over 50 years that a Democrat had held the seat.
Since Trump only thinks about himself when he weighs running mates, he probably isn’t thinking about the Republican Party after he’s gone. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be impacts.
Of course, if Trump wins, the vice president immediately becomes a 2028 frontrunner. Things get more complicated if Trump loses.
A come-from-behind victory by Biden, whom many Republicans believe is demented and decrepit, would deal a demoralizing blow to the GOP and would extend Trump’s losing streak. In 2018, Trump lost the House. In 2020, he lost the White House and the Senate. In 2022, Republicans barely reclaimed the House, but with margins so narrow, they have not been able to perform essential governing functions without Democratic help. And Democrats gained a Senate seat.
A 2024 loss would force Republicans to at least question whether the continued association with the disgraced convicted felon is politically sustainable.
No national Republican leader commands much respect from the rank-and-file. Not House Speaker Mike Johnson, who has partnered with Democrats to keep the government open and fund the Ukrainian resistance. Not Senator Mitch McConnell, who was openly loathed by Trump and is leaving his leadership position in the Senate. A vice-presidential loser would not command universal respect but, in a leadership vacuum, would have an outsized platform.
Therefore, the range in ideology, temperament, and demographics among Trump’s reported shortlist is notable. It adds an element of uncertainty to what types of voices will be leading the post-Trump Republican Party.
Burgum, who is getting buzz, launched his little-noticed 2024 presidential campaign pitching depolarization. “Anger, yelling, infighting. That’s not going to cut it anymore. Let’s get things done.” As governor, he pledged to make North Dakota “carbon neutral” by 2030, though he has sounded more like a typical Republican on energy in recent months. During his presidential campaign, he called aid to Ukraine “a bargain,” separating himself from Russia-friendly MAGA Republicans. Other possible veeps—Senators Tom Cotton of Arkansas, Tim Scott of South Carolina, and Marco Rubio of Florida—have similarly balanced their fealty to Trump with antipathy to Russia’s autocrat Vladimir Putin.
The hyper-MAGA Vance, in contrast, has been a vicious culture warrior, a virulent critic of Ukraine, and a budding authoritarian—having defended the idea that Vice President Pence should have delayed certification of the 2020 election and heard from alternate slates of electors. While he chided Trump back in 2016, he’s disavowed such comments as ancient history. Representative Byron Donalds of Florida holds similar views, with the added twist of being an African-American who argues African-American families were in better shape under Jim Crow than today.
One potential contender who might have minimal influence even if he were Trump’s running mate is former Housing and Urban Development Secretary Ben Carson. Carson will be 73 years old before Election Day and has never been an assertive figure regarding policy.
Representative Elise Stefanik, 39, adopted MAGA views and replaced Liz Cheney as chair of the House Republican Conference. However, the former George W. Bush aide and Albany, New York native was considered moderate when she joined the House. As a political chameleon, what she would do once Trump fades into the background is anyone’s guess.
The same could be said for any of them. Once freed from a representing party defined by a single person, Republicans could shift on many fronts. At the same time, once his days on the ballot are over, Trump could try to elevate his younger family members, as he did by installing his daughter-in-law as co-chair of the Republican National Committee and sideline his 2024 running mate. Or if he lost this year, he could still run again in 2028.
Trump’s vice-presidential selection won’t immediately illuminate the future of the Republican Party. But his selection will likely have much to do with shaping the party’s future.
