Wanted: a universally-popular vice-presidential candidate

Romney’s vice-presidential pick is the crucial next decision of White House race.

With polls indicating this year’s race for the White House will be highly competitive, the key decision Mitt Romney has to make before the Republican presidential convention in August is his choice of running mate. Wide-ranging candidates are being touted in the media, including US Senators Marco Rubio and Rob Portman, Governors Mitch Daniels and Tim Pawlenty, and even Hewlett Packard CEO Meg Whitman.

The vice-presidential selection process is an election year custom that attracts high prominence, partly because of several key changes in US politics in recent decades. Firstly, the vice-presidency has become the single best transitional office to the presidency. Secondly, the office of vice-president has assumed more power and resourcing. And thirdly, the electoral stakes have grown of not selecting a deputy who is perceived to be capable of assuming office effectively upon the incumbent’s unanticipated death or incapacity.

This latter factor was a major feature of the 2008 presidential election when Republican nominee John McCain, aged 71, made the high-risk decision to select Sarah Palin – whose only major experience of office was less than two years as Governor of Alaska. Rather than boosting McCain’s campaign, Palin was – ultimately – widely viewed as too inexperienced to be president. This was also true in 1988 of Dan Quayle, then a two-term US senator, who was selected by George H.W. Bush.

In light of the Palin episode in 2008, Romney will be keen to make a choice that will "do no harm" to his electoral prospects. Hence, part of the reason why Portman and Daniels, with their wide-ranging political experience, have received so much attention from media.

Historically, the process of selecting vice-presidential nominees tended to be fashioned around issues like reconciling important party stakeholders after what can be bruising nomination contests; and the perceived advantage of cultivating so-called ‘balanced tickets’ in which the vice-presidential and presidential candidates where differentiated by factors such as their ‘home’ region of the country, or philosophical wings of the party, so as to maximise support across the nation.

One potential balanced ticket candidate for Romney is Rubio, whose life story – he was born in Florida to Cuban immigrants – potentially contrasts favourably with perceptions of Romney’s wealth and privilege. Rubio is also a Tea Party favourite, potentially neutralising conservative concerns about Romney’s more moderate Republicanism. The selection of Rubio, while containing the potential hazard of his relative national political inexperience (he only entered the US Senate in 2011), would also increase the prospects of Romney winning the key swing state of Florida.   

Romney’s wife, Anne, also enthusiastically highlighted earlier this month that Romney might choose a woman. As well as Whitman (who stood as the Republican candidate in the 2010 Californian gubernatorial election), potential female candidates touted in the media include three who, like Rubio, are serving only their first term of office in their present post: US Senator Kelly Ayotte (who represents the swing state of New Hampshire); South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley (an American-Indian whose parents emigrated from Amritsar); and New Mexico Governor Susana Martinez (who could potentially appeal to the rapidly growing US Hispanic population). 

However, partly because of the changes in the presidential nomination system, and indeed the proliferation of mass media, these traditional considerations (while still of enduring consequence) are less relevant to the modern process. Thus, Al Gore was selected in 1992 by Bill Clinton (a fellow centrist Democrat and southerner) not to balance the ticket, but instead to reinforce a key narrative about Clinton’s "New Democrat", change candidacy.

Whether or not these developments have potentially injected greater uncertainty into the vice-presidential selection process, it is unquestionably the case that choices are routinely made that confound the pundits. For instance, few (if any) anticipated the selections in 2008 of Palin and Joe Biden, nor in 2000 of Dick Cheney and Joe Lieberman.

The selections of Washington veterans Cheney and Biden (who looks likely to Obama’s running mate again this year) were noteworthy inasmuch as they were chosen, in significant part, to fortify the national and international political inexperience of George W. Bush and Barack Obama. Cheney, in particular, therefore assumed a high profile role as vice-president, and is widely viewed as the most powerful ever holder of the office.

Cheney’s influence partly derived from his experience and connections as a former White House chief of staff; congressman and defence secretary, and the innovations he brought to the office of the vice presidency – for instance, he considerably increased his national security staff. However, his influence also reflected the increased status of the vice presidency in recent decades which, as well as being reflected in larger staff budgets, also includes greater proximity to the centre of power through a West Wing office in the White House; weekly one-on-one meetings with the president; and authority to attend all presidential meetings.

The selections of Cheney and Biden were also interesting in another sense: both George W. Bush and Obama made the assumption that neither of their more experienced running mates represented a political threat to them, and would thus be very loyal, because they were too old (and in Cheney’s case suffered from too poor health) to run for the presidency themselves in the future. Seen from the prism of the last few decades, this is highly unusual.

Indeed, since 1960, four sitting vice-presidents (Richard Nixon in 1960, Hubert Humphrey in 1968; Walter Mondale in 1984; and Gore in 2000) won their respective party’s presidential nomination but then lost the general election, whilst two vice-presidents have been elected president (Nixon in 1968 and George H.W. Bush in 1988). One reason vice-presidents have, in the post-war period, enjoyed particular success in securing their party’s presidential nomination relates to the Twenty Second Amendment in 1951.

This constitutional amendment restricted presidents from serving more than two terms. Importantly, for vice-presidents, this allowed for the possibility of organising a presidential campaign in the sitting president’s second term of office without charges, from inside or outside his party, of disloyalty.

It is thus in this context of short-term political calculation and historical precedent that Romney will make what could prove his defining decision of the campaign. Miscalculation could prove damaging, especially if the race remains tight. However, if the selection wins strong approval, his candidacy will secure invaluable new momentum.

Andrew Hammond was formerly the North America Editor at Oxford Analytica, and a UK Government Special Adviser.
 

Mitt Romney will be anxious to avoid John McCain's "Palin mistake" of 2008. Photograph: Getty Images

Andrew Hammond is an Associate at LSE IDEAS (the Centre for International Affairs, Diplomacy and Strategy) at the London School of Economics.

 

Carl Court/Getty Images
Show Hide image

The idea that sitting all day behind a desk increases your output is a fantasy

If you don’t trust people, at least make sure that you imprison them, seems to be the idea.

Scruffy and tieless, I was the odd one out. Taking a break from research in the London Library, I settled at the bar of an Italian restaurant and resumed reading Tony Collins’s excellent book Sport in Capitalist Society. While the hedge-fund managers looked askance, the young Hungarian waiter recognised one of his own. “That was the subject of my PhD,” he explained, before giving me a sparkling history of sport and Hungarian society.

He now juggles waiting tables with writing articles. It’s not easy. He tells me that when he rereads his old academic work, “Sometimes I need a dictionary!” Like many other people in today’s economy, he balances different jobs, the remuneration and fulfilment varying significantly.

As you have probably noticed, it seems that almost everyone is employed but hardly anyone has a job. Of the 42 million people of working age in Britain, 23 million are in a full-time job; roughly 14 million are full-time parents or carers; most of the rest work part-time, or are self-employed, or work for a business that is so small that it is, in effect, a form of self-employment. The “job” – the salary, the subsidised canteen, the pension – is on the wrong side of history. That is both liberating and scary.

There are two separate points here. The first, deriving from the privilege of choice, is that some people (I am one of them) are happier with the variety and freedom of self-employment. The second is that many people do not have a choice: solid, dependable jobs are a dead concept. We had better get used to fending for ourselves, because we are going to have to.

The phrase “portfolio career” was popularised by the management thinker Charles Handy. “I told my children that they would be well advised to look for customers, not bosses,” as Handy put it. “The important difference is that the price tag now goes on people’s produce, not their time.”

This transition from time-serving to genuine contribution can be good news for workers and employers alike. The art of being an employee is to string things out while pretending to be busy. The art of being self-employed is the opposite: getting things done well and efficiently, while being open to taking on new work. Employees gain an incentive to look effortful, the self-employed to look effortless.

The idea that sitting constantly behind a desk increases output, which underpins the old concept of a job, is a fantasy derived from control: if you don’t trust people, at least make sure that you imprison them. As an unfortunate consequence, the projection of phoney “busyness” consumes more energy than actual work and brings a kind of compound stress: always bustling around, never moving forward. “Never walk past the editor’s office without carrying a piece of paper,” young journalists are advised.

When I turned pro as a cricketer, an old hand told me that if I ever felt lost at practice, I should untie my shoelaces and then do them up again. “We don’t measure success by results but by activity,” as Sir Humphrey quips in Yes Minister. Ironically, I had never realised that my career as a sportsman – apparently playful and unserious – would prove to be the outlier for opposite reasons. Where most careers have drifted towards freelance portfolios, professional sport has tightened the leash. When you have to eat, sleep and train according to strict rules, your job is at one extreme end of the control-of-freedom spectrum. Yet even in elite sport there is more room for semi-professionalism than the system usually allows, especially in games – such as cricket – where physical fitness is necessary but not sufficient.

Yet the reality of the portfolio career inevitably brings new problems that are bound up with wider forces. A life that is spent moving from one institution to another – from school, to university, to a lifelong job – is becoming exotic, rather than the norm. For most of us, there will be no retirement party, no carriage clock. It is not just finding income that is being devolved downwards; so, too, is the search for meaning, purpose and identity. We live in what Handy calls a “de-institutionalised society”.

There are civilising aspects to the trend. First, the new employment landscape reduces the likelihood of people wasting their lives in the wrong job just because it is safe. Handy cites data suggesting that 80 per cent of employees feel dissatisfied in corporate jobs while 80 per cent are happy leading freelance lives. Nor does the old lie – that of backloading happiness, with corporate sacrifice giving way to happy retirement – stack up. We are better off balancing duties and pleasures all the way through.

Second, the decline of the job-for-life may gradually undermine the assumption that everyone’s wealth and prospects (let alone their value) can be determined by a couple of questions about an employer’s address. Social assumptions based on (apparent) occupation are increasingly ridiculous. Guess who the scholar is in the Italian restaurant: the waiter. It’s a good lesson. Your Uber driver could be a landscape architect, funding his professional passion with part-time top-ups.

The language of employment (“Where do you work?”) has been slow to catch up with this reality. When asked, “What do you do?” a freelancer can give a full and interesting answer, only to prompt the follow-up question, “So, what do you do, then?” If conversation becomes less like a mortgage questionnaire, that can only be a good thing.

Hugo Rifkind, writing recently in the Times, admired the Scandinavian-inspired decoupling of taste from wealth. “It is a ­better world . . . where you are not judged on the lineage of your sideboard.” I am more radical. It is a better world when you are not judged on your job.

Better or not – and like it or not – we will have to get used to it. 

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war