By Emma Dickson
On the night of his reelection on November 7, 2012, President Barack Obama referred to Vice President Joe Biden as “America’s Happy Warrior.” Many Americans know Biden as a veteran negotiator who has been forgiven for many more slip-ups than his boss, but beyond this, they know little about him — nor, for that matter, the office he holds. Other than being a heartbeat away from the presidency, the actual role of the vice president is nebulous, often seen as neither policy planners nor critical negotiators. In short, Americans tend to know what VP’s get away with — “potatoe” or even accidental shootings — but not what they get done.
President Barack Obama’s choice for vice president illustrates some of the central principles and practices of the job. George Stephanopoulos wrote that Biden’s selection to join the 2008 Democratic presidential ticket was the outcome of a clear choice between a type of candidate to “represent what Barack Obama represents: change,” or “a known quantity” with the national security experience Obama lacked. The Obama team eventually determined, like many before it, that the vice presidential candidate’s personal and professional characteristics should fill the gaps in Obama’s profile. Biden demonstrated principles that Obama did not possess, the main benefit of which was a potential ability to carry key demographics and states. Time magazine postulated in 1988 that vice presidents are selected only to win their home state, and to refrain from harming the campaign in any other capacity. In that sense, Biden was a coin toss. His tendency to speak out could have caused harm to the Obama campaign, but his appeal delivered not only his home state (the crucial Delaware) but also other constituencies. Fortunately for the president, Biden was a boon, not a bust.
What Biden offered the Obama campaign resembled a checklist of electoral qualities and little else. Biden breathed life and humanity into a campaign often characterized as overly professorial and polished. He had insider experience, but never succumbed to the old boy politics or corruption that many Americans can often smell on their senior politicians. It didn’t hurt that Biden is a white, Roman Catholic, older male from Pennsylvania — that is, he filled some key demographic needs. And Biden’s professional career, upbringing and attitude connected him to members of just about every socioeconomic class: Americans will probably always want to have a beer with Joe Biden. Even his incontrovertible policy expertise fulfilled an explicitly electoral need. His experience as chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee supplemented Obama’s perceived lack of foreign relations experience, and his reputation as a tough political fighter who wouldn’t shy away from conflict made him formidable in debates. His 36 years of service in the Senate meant Obama would inherit a substantial national fundraising and support network.
The example of Biden illustrates a campaign’s critical motivation for selecting a VP: the attention he or she will draw or the constituencies drawn out, rather than the significant policy decisions made, or the many more requirements that winning the vice presidency would entail. When Democratic presidential candidate Walter Mondale selected Geraldine Ferraro as his VP in 1984, it was primarily because his campaign was in such drastic trouble that his advisers believed picking a woman would bring media coverage and possibly boost the ratings of the campaign. George W. Bush was said to have picked Dick Cheney as much for personal reasons as political ones — he wanted both a second-in-command, and more importantly a confidant who would be loyal to the Bush family and the administration’s agenda. Presidential candidates deliberate over a lot of aspects when choosing a VP, but ideology is not always the most important one.
Presidential candidates are not the only ones deliberating before the ballot is finalized. The VP candidates themselves have a substantial decision to make. After all, their role is a months-long battle followed by a years-long struggle. In making this decision, prospective candidates tend to be wooed by the prospect of national recognition and political legitimacy; perhaps this is the reason that many have used it as a launching pad for presidential bids. Then again, only 14 vice presidents have served as commander-in-chief.
Although Article II sets up the vice president as the presidential successor, the Constitution does not guarantee much experience or responsibility during the VP’s term in office. The VP role is also detailed in Article I, which assigns the VP duties as president of the senate. But modern politics dictates that the president pro tempore assumes this role, and although the VP is given the tie-breaking vote in the Senate, it’s an almost comical obligation given the recent political climate. The only other constitutional duty of the position, in accordance with the Twelfth Amendment, is to preside over the session of the Senate in which electoral votes are counted. In this position, many vice presidents have had to announce their own successor rather than their reelection. This limited constitutional specificity leaves the role of the vice president a considerably malleable one based on the characteristics and experience of those who occupy it.
Lyndon B. Johnson is remembered as a powerful president. But when LBJ was serving as John F. Kennedy’s vice president, he was largely powerless. He was kept busy at the White House, encouraged not to talk with reporters, never given a full-time staff and authorized only to review, rather than influence, foreign policy. He attempted to exercise some authority in the Senate, only to discover that the members of the Democratic caucus were not particularly fond of him, either. Situated in one of the highest ranking offices in American politics, LBJ famously remarked, “I now know the difference between a caucus and a cactus: in a cactus, all the pricks are on the outside.”
In an earlier era, the VP was even more powerless. The Constitution provided that electors from the Electoral College voted for the list of candidates running for President. The one with the most votes became commander-in-chief, and the runner-up vice president. Often this meant the president might have a second-in-command from an entirely different party, disincentivizing the president from giving the VP much power — exactly what happened during the Adams-Jefferson administration of the 1790s. The arrangement increased incentives for a coup d’état, with the VP seizing control upon the president’s death creating the possibility for dramatic policy changes. This was a partial motivation for the 12th Amendment, which required electors to cast their votes separately for the president and vice president, in essence creating the ballots we see today.
Johnson’s vice presidency is a sharp contrast to Dick Cheney’s. Biden once asserted that “Bush is sort of a blank slate and Cheney was his imprint.” So instrumental was Cheney in formulating Bush-era policy, especially the invasion of Iraq, that he is frequently cited as one of the most powerful vice presidents in the history of the office. “Gatekeeper for Supreme Court nominees, referee of Cabinet turf disputes, arbiter of budget appeals, editor of tax proposals and regulator in chief of water flows in his native West,” waxed a 2007 profile in the Washington Post. Dan Quayle recently recalled a conversation with Cheney in which he discussed the historically apolitical role of the VP, to which Cheney responded, “I have a different understanding with the president.”
A president that agrees with the VP is more likely to delegate substantive tasks and important platforms to the vice president, and is more likely to listen attentively to the VP’s opinions. This characteristic has sparked a modern evolution in the office, more a partnership than a hierarchy. “You work for the president and the vice president,” National Security Advisor James Jones was reported to have said to his White House staff on the first day of the Obama administration.
Asked if “vice presidents matter much” in the 1992 Presidential Election, Republican VP candidate Dan Quayle was straightforward: “The American people vote for the President. The American people vote for the top of the ticket.” Today, fewer voters focus only on the presidential candidates, though the top of the ticket still remains the prevailing factor for many voters. In this increasingly polarized era, voters may give more weight to the vice presidential candidate than has historically been the case. VP candidates conceivably can win votes by tipping the scale in favor of their presidential nominee partner. Recently, it seems the most important decision a campaign can make is the selection of a running mate. In 2008, voters brought up concerns about Sen. John McCain’s age amid
And yet the perception of the VP’s negligibility persists, and in politics, perception is fact. This stems largely from the notion that the vice president can only step in during unlikely catastrophe. Woodrow Wilson’s vice president, Thomas Marshall, once said, “I was the Wilson administration’s spare tire — to be used only in case of emergency.” Though we may hope the vice president is never needed, voters would be smart to scrutinize the VP as much as the presidential candidate. The elected VP may or may not agree with all of the boss’ policies, and even when the president survives his term, VP’s can still serve as temporary presidents. Cheney did so twice during medical procedures Bush had in office. doubts of Sarah Palin’s qualifications for executive office, which some have said afforded Obama and his more strategic selection, Biden, an electoral advantage, especially among female voters.
The VP is not only a president-in-waiting, but also a confidant, adviser and congressional liaison. Given the position of power available to the vice president and the growing role and impact that many in the position continue to accrue, it’s not just reasonable, but also increasingly necessary for voters to consider checking the spare tire before checking the ballot box.
Art by Maria Paz Almenara
Emma Dickson