Sen. JD Vance and Gov. Tim Walz did something Tuesday that hasn’t been seen by Americans on the national stage for many years: They debated while largely avoiding sinking their teeth into each other.
After Democrats — including Walz — spent weeks vilifying Vance over what he’s said or what he believes, the Ohio senator spent most of Tuesday’s vice presidential debate in a mode far different from the aggressive partisan warrior that polls show had turned off some voters. Even when Walz was given an opportunity to attack Vance for his positions on things like conspiracies about migrants in Ohio or childcare and abortion, he largely held off.
It was a debate where both candidates had clear goals. For Vance, that was softening his divisive image and raising his favorability ratings. For Walz, it was to do no harm, even as that meant not getting in Vance’s way.
“Well, I’ve enjoyed tonight’s debate, and I think there’s a lot of commonality here,” Walz said, summing up the spirit of the evening and his own strategy.
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Vance arrived at the debate dogged by Democratic accusations of being “weird,” claims that he’s out of step with Donald Trump, backlash to his criticism of “childless cat ladies” and his embrace of conspiracy theories about Haitian migrants eating pets. His strategy to respond included playing up his family life and ditching the red meat rhetoric on the GOP’s toughest issues.
On gun safety, Vance said he and his opponent “probably agree that we need to do better.” On Hurricane Helene, he struck a bipartisan tone to say both parties want “as robust and aggressive of a federal response as we can get.” And on reproductive rights — perhaps the GOP’s most challenging area — he shared empathy for an unidentified loved one who had an abortion.
“My party, we’ve got to do a much better of a job at earning the American people’s trust back on this issue,” Vance said, acknowledging one of the GOP’s most significant liabilities this campaign cycle.
Vance’s diplomatic tone is out of step with the candidate many voters have come to know on the national stage, as he has built a reputation as Trumpworld’s biggest attack dog.
Perhaps the only moment Vance launched into full attack mode was when CBS moderators tried to fact-check his claims about Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio. If viewers were expecting name-calling and grandstanding that have become staples of Trump-era debates, they would have more luck on Truth Social than CBS.
Leading up to Tuesday, Vance’s team and others close to him bragged that the debate would be the moment that he would endear himself to voters.
Onstage, he presented himself as down-to-earth, levelheaded and even, at points, nice.
When Walz mentioned his 17-year-old son witnessed a shooting at a community center, Vance’s next response was about the story.
“I didn’t know your 17-year-old son witnessed a shooting. I’m sorry about that. Christ, have mercy,” Vance said.
Vance allies spent Tuesday night taking a victory lap.
“If murdering someone on national TV is humanizing, sure, JD humanized himself tonight,” a person close to Vance told NOTUS following the debate.
Plenty of advance preparation went into the debate and how it might go. A source familiar with Vance’s debate preparations told NOTUS they anticipated Walz would filibuster when pinned during the debate and that he would string together a handful of freely associated statistics and numbers when pressed.
The belief among Republican strategists was that Vance would resort to personal attacks when rattled, but that’s not what he did.
“When doing debate prep, you have to expect your opponent to be their best self. Walz seemed to be expecting JD’s so-called worst,” GOP strategist Matt Gorman (no relation to the reporter on this article) texted NOTUS.
Walz — who appeared nervous and shaky for the first few questions — had plenty of chances to go after comments Vance has made since he was picked as Trump’s running mate. He largely avoided doing so.
When the discussion moved to Springfield, Ohio, Walz made no mention of Vance’s comments of Haitian migrants eating cats. In extended back-and-forths on abortion and childcare, he left out Vance’s past comments on “childless cat ladies.”
Instead, he seemed to try to close the gap between them. “I don’t think Sen. Vance and I are that far apart,” Walz said to a question on childcare affordability. And on a question about abortion, Walz said, “I agree with a lot of what Sen. Vance said about what’s happening.”
Walz frequently tried to make Trump seem like the weird one, looking past the person he was actually onstage with. On a spread of policy issues, Walz tried to distinguish Vance from Trump.
“Sen. Vance has said that there’s a climate problem,” Walz said at one point. “Donald Trump called it a hoax and then joked that these things would make more beachfront property.”
Walz presented himself differently from the man who emerged on the national stage in August as Harris’ running mate, who became known for weaving in jokes about his counterpart.
“I can’t wait to debate the guy,” Walz said to a crowd of thousands in Philadelphia in August. “That is, if he’s willing to get off the couch and show up. You see what I did there?”
The Walz from the campaign trail who has repeatedly called Vance “a weirdo” and “creepy as hell” was nowhere to be found. Instead, Walz leaned into his personal background and stories of his rural upbringing and policies enacted as governor.
Perhaps Walz’s feistiest moment came as the two candidates sparred over Jan. 6 and Trump’s unfounded election denialism. When Vance dodged Walz’s question about whether Trump won the 2020 election, he shot back, “That is a damning nonanswer.”
In an evening that lacked the viral moments or one-liners that make Trump debates memorable, Democrats immediately started framing that Walz moment as the governor’s big win. But for the most part, neither Vance nor Walz likely sparked headlines that extend beyond the debate-night news cycle.
“Not a lot of fireworks here,” Democratic strategist Rebecca Pearcey texted NOTUS. “But I don’t know that I expected any.”
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Riley Rogerson and Reese Gorman are reporters at NOTUS. Katherine Swartz is a NOTUS reporter and an Allbritton Journalism Institute fellow.
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