By Kevin D. Williamson
Monday, October 26, 2026
J.D. Vance would very much like you to know that he is a
Christian. “Christian” is the first word in his most prominent social media bio. He recently
published a ghastly,
stupid, profoundly dishonest book about his supposed Christian faith and his
supposed conversion to it, a preposterous pile of nonsense on theological
stilts that is every bit as transparently and imbecilically dishonest as his
story about his other notable conversion, to Trumpism.
The religious principle most directly applicable to
Vance’s public life is no Christian principle at all but an Islamic one: taqiyya,
the religiously sanctioned lie. It is a doctrine that is easy to distort and
easy to make too much of (consider this
interesting debate on the subject, if you are interested in the broader
intellectual context) and, indeed, it is common to see the doctrine deployed
rather loosely both by jihadists preaching a kind of Islamist realpolitik
and by certain critics of Islam who wish to characterize Muslims as a whole as
generally deceitful and untrustworthy. The reality is that Islam places a very
great emphasis on the virtue of personal honesty among adherents but, when it
comes to religious conflict and adversarial relations with the non-Muslim
world—it’s complicated.
There is, of course, a longstanding debate within
Christianity as to when deceit is allowable, which proceeds along a fairly
straightforward line regarding the prevention of a greater evil, e.g., just as
the Biblical midwives deceived Pharaoh to save the lives of Jewish children,
those who deceived the German authorities to save other Jewish children
(and adults) from the Holocaust—at great personal risk—were engaged in virtuous
acts of charity and courage rather than in vicious acts of deceit. But virtuous
acts of charity and courage are entirely unknown to the vice president of these
United States, who has waged a campaign of vicious deceit against some of the
most vulnerable people in our society, from the Haitian immigrants of
Springfield, Ohio, slandered by the vice president and his coterie as
pet-eating savages, to victims of horrifying childhood abuse—the indictment at the center of the current controversy
involving Vance and Vivek Ramaswamy was, let us recall, for the rape of a
12-year-old girl by her stepfather, who had been charged
with incest in a separate case.
Republican Ohio gubernatorial candidate Vivek Ramaswamy,
trailing in the polls, put out an advertisement in which his opponent’s
estranged mother denounced her daughter as a serial liar, without disclosing
the relevant facts, i.e., that the mother had had no contact with her daughter
in nearly 50 years because she lost custody owing to her decision to live her
life with the fugitive charged with raping her preteen daughter. When normal
people and a few Republicans still capable of shame recoiled in revulsion from
the ad, Vance popped up to defend it.
What is interesting—indeed, remarkable—about
Vance’s campaign of dishonesty is not that his religious instructors seem to
have somehow overlooked the bit about “bearing false witness” that is an
ordinary part of Christian religious formation, but that Vance so openly and
publicly embraces bearing false witness, in direct contravention of the
commandments of the religion he supposedly professes, as a matter of political
strategy.
Vance is distinguished as the rare sort of politician who
is honest about his dishonesty: In the Springfield matter, he justified his
deceit on pragmatic political grounds, with a dose of preening moralistic
self-righteousness to boot: “If I have to create stories so that the American
media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people, then
that’s what I’m going to do,” he told CNN. About the Vivek Ramaswamy ad in
Ohio, Vance said: “I’ll be honest with you”—thanks for that!—“whether the ad
was appropriate or not is not really my concern. … Politics is a tough
business, and my message to my fellow elected Republicans is if you actually
believe in the things you say you believe in, stop whining about an
advertisement and go win the race.”
Vance praised Ramaswamy’s “audacity” in putting forward
this ridiculous smear.
The notion that one does not owe honesty to those who do
not share one’s beliefs and that dishonesty is not only allowable but virtuous
when used to advance one’s beliefs—that is where the taqiyya flavor
comes in. Perhaps the notion I am describing here is not authentically Islamic,
and I mean no anti-Muslim slander by the comparison: What I do mean is that the
principle is in no legible way Christian, the deceit in question being
repugnant to the moral teachings of the church that Vance purports to embrace.
I can hear Vance and his apologists before they speak the
clichés: Politics ain’t beanbag, buddy.
The tough-guy stuff—“stop whining” and all that—is
familiar enough, part of Vance’s outreach to a sociopolitico milieu that is
planted thick with lonely childless men who insist that they are “alpha males,”
blissfully unaware that, for all the unhappy things H. sap. has in common with
the chimpanzee, we do have a distinct form of social organization that departs
somewhat from the chimps’ rigid dominance hierarchy. But the worst kind of
tough guy is the tough guy who isn’t actually tough, and if there is one thing
that can be said with absolute certainty about J.D. Vance, it is that he is a
coward—specifically, a moral coward unable to stand up to the ever-changing
demands of his ever-changing succession of patrons, sponsors, and paymasters.
My time at National Review overlapped with Vance’s period as a
contributor to that magazine, and I have been in the room to watch Vance pitch
his venture fund (and the economic ideas supposedly animating it) to potential
investors, shared the stage with him at public events, etc., but one need not
have an up-close view to understand that he is perfectly happy to tell the
book-buying public one thing when it suits his ambitions, tell National
Review editors and readers another, tell Peter Thiel something else, and
tell Donald Trump something else again, whatever it takes.
Because human beings are human beings and not, say,
iguanas (I suppose it is the symbolic chameleon that is most relevant here),
the toughness of supposed tough guys is not just for feeding themselves and
seeing off mating rivals—among human beings, a strong man’s strength is
supposed to be strength for something. In the religious tradition with
which Vance has for some reason decided to pretend to associate himself, the
purpose of such strength is in no small part the protection of the excluded,
the weak, and the vulnerable: poor, struggling immigrants trying to build new
lives, for example, or, perhaps, a 12-year-old girl who has been raped by her
stepfather, a child whose life was turned upside down when she was legally
removed from her family home as a result of the criminal charges in that
matter.
Vance—not me, and not his critics—has chosen to put
Christianity at the center of his public identity. There is no cognizable
Christian principle that could possibly justify Vance’s active and culpable
dishonesty in the Springfield matter or his utter indifference to the
truth—indifference he confesses with his own lips and justifies—in the
Ramaswamy matter.
(I will admit that I smile when I consider how such
Indian-hating right-wing weirdos as Texas Republican politician Bo French and
other champions of the “heritage American” will tie themselves into cleat
hitches and double-overhand stoppers watching their champion debase himself on
behalf of Vivek Ramaswamy, presumably a Ramaswamy of the Mayflower
Ramaswamys.)
I am not the greatest admirer of Robert Cardinal McElroy,
the archbishop of Washington, whose squishy progressivism is not precisely my
20-oz can of sugar-free Red Bull. But I can find no fault with his 2020 observation:
The notion of truth itself has
lost its footing in our public debate. Collegiality has been discarded.
Principles are merely justifications for partisan actions, to be abandoned when
those principles no longer favor a partisan advantage. There is a fundamental
lack of political courage in the land.
...
[T]he personal qualities of the
candidates we elect constitute a particularly central element in effective
faith-filled voting at the present moment, and another reason why faith-filled
voting cannot be simply reduced to a series of competing social justice
teachings.
Of course it matters what a candidate thinks about
abortion, the cardinal argues, but it also matters what he thinks about other
issues, say, immigration. And the Trump-Vance approach to that? “This is simply not only incompatible
with Catholic teaching, it’s inhumane and is morally repugnant.” It is also
authoritarian and, in the case of the homicidal histrionics in Minneapolis, a
textbook case of state terror.
I myself am no theologian. (And I surely am no exemplar
of Christian virtue or Catholic orthodoxy.) But at the risk of wandering into
Puritanism, I will note that I can, in fact, read. And here is something
I have read:
I am the Lord thy God, which have
brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.
Thou shalt have no other gods
before me.
Thou shalt not make unto thee any
graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is
in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.
Thou shalt not bow down thyself
to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the
iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation
of them that hate me;
And shewing mercy unto thousands
of them that love me, and keep my commandments.
Thou shalt not take the name of
the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh
his name in vain.
Remember the sabbath day, to keep
it holy.
Six days shalt thou labour, and
do all thy work:
But the seventh day is the
sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy
son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor
thy stranger that is within thy gates:
For in six days the Lord made
heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day:
wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.
Honour thy father and thy mother:
that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.
Thou shalt not kill.
Thou shalt not commit adultery.
Thou shalt not steal.
Thou shalt not bear false witness
against thy neighbour.
Thou shalt not covet thy
neighbour’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife, nor his
manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is
thy neighbour’s.
Trump, who lately has made a practice of coveting his neighbor’s ass in a very weird public way,
makes a point of violating nine out of 10 of the commandments by my count.
Vance’s soul is opaque, of course—perhaps it is opaque even to Vance—but he is
at the very least a culpable party to the murder, graft, and idolatry of the
administration he serves with such degraded sycophancy, and to its corruption
and viciousness and godlessness. But it is to the energetic violation of what
Catholics number the Eighth Commandment—the prohibition on bearing false
witness—that the vice president brings the greatest diabolical gusto.
The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church
contains a few surprisingly Burkean lines. Edmund Burke famously observed: “Your representative owes you, not his
industry only, but his judgment; and he betrays, instead of serving you, if he
sacrifices it to your opinion.” The Compendium argues: “Those who govern
have the obligation to answer to those governed, but this does not in the least
imply that representatives are merely passive agents of the electors.” The
authors continue:
Those with political
responsibilities must not forget or underestimate the moral dimension of
political representation, which consists in the commitment to share fully in
the destiny of the people and to seek solutions to social problems. In this
perspective, responsible authority also means authority exercised with those
virtues that make it possible to put power into practice as service (patience,
modesty, moderation, charity, efforts to share), an authority exercised by
persons who are able to accept the common good, and not prestige or the gaining
of personal advantages, as the true goal of their work.
Members of Vance’s circle talk and write a great deal
about the common good—but who could fail to see the preeminence of the quest
for “prestige or the gaining of personal advantages” in that orbit? Vance in
particular, in his quest for advancement, impoverishes the public good by means
of his habitual dishonesty, which disfigures the common property that is the
political sphere and political process itself. The Compendium continues:
Among the deformities of the
democratic system, political corruption is one of the most serious because it
betrays at one and the same time both moral principles and the norms of social
justice. It compromises the correct functioning of the State, having a negative
influence on the relationship between those who govern and the governed. It
causes a growing distrust with respect to public institutions, bringing about a
progressive disaffection in the citizens with regard to politics and its
representatives, with a resulting weakening of institutions. Corruption
radically distorts the role of representative institutions.
As I have written and argued on many occasions, the issue
of virtue in politics—whether understood in explicitly Christian terms
or in terms of the classical virtues necessary to small-r republican
citizenship—often is talked about as though it were some airy-fairy,
otherworldly, purely metaphysical concern, something to worry about in the next
life rather than this life during which we should “stop whining about” truth
and honesty “and go win the race.” But for a few thousand years, better men
than J.D. Vance have understood that honesty in politics is an eminently practical
concern: Lack of trust in the state and its institutions imposes real economic,
military, political, and social costs—costs that are even steeper when, as at
the moment, that distrust is an entirely rational response to the
untrustworthiness of the institutions and the men who run them, including
Donald Trump and J.D. Vance.
Some right-wing Catholics believe that the bishops should
have publicly excommunicated figures such as Nancy Pelosi and Joe Biden for
their lamentable views on abortion and their culpable advancement of abortion
as a political cause. (I am sympathetic to that view.) One wonders what a
figure such as Vance would have to do to get their attention, to inspire them
to take the same exact view of Vance’s habitual bearing of false witness that
they take of Nancy Pelosi’s abortion-rights advocacy. One wonders which
religion it is they are in fact following, and whether that religion
leaves anything at all to render unto God once they have rendered, and
rendered, and rendered—with such grotesque and supine enthusiasm!—to all these
second-rate would-be Caesars.