🎭 The Devil's Dance: JD Vance's Shift from Critic to Champion (VIDEO)
Explore the dramatic transformation of JD Vance from Trump critic to his steadfast supporter and understand how Vance's Catholic identity aligns—or conflicts—with his political stance.
😽 Keepin’ It Simple Summary for Younger Readers
👧🏾✊🏾👦🏾
🌟 JD Vance, who once criticized Trump, is now his Vice President, a transformation that surprises many. 🔄 This change reflects a common political pattern where former critics become firm allies in authoritarian movements. 🏘️ Communities, particularly those affected by these shifts, are called to resist and protect their values together, emphasizing the importance of standing firm in challenging times. ⛓️🛡️
🗝️ Takeaways
📜 Moral Shift: JD Vance, once a critic of Trump, is now his Vice President, shifting from critic to advocate.
🔄 Political Pattern: Vance's transition is part of a broader authoritarian playbook seen in many countries.
⛪ Religious Conflict: Vance's Catholic faith seems at odds with some of his new political positions.
🌎 Community Impact: Local communities, especially in the borderlands, are feeling the effects of these political changes.
🤝 Call to Action: Resistance is crucial; communities must unite, support each other, and continue to defend principles.
Video source.
The Devil's Bargain: JD Vance's Journey from Trump Critic to Trumpist Attack Dog
Posted by Three Sonorans | March 3, 2025 | La Resistencia Chronicles
The Words That Haunt
"JD Vance - then: I never liked him. I don't know who I'm going to vote for. I'm definitely not going to vote for Trump. My current plan is to vote either third party or as I joke to my wife, I might write in my dog. What Trump is is just another opioid. He can't stomach Trump. I think that he's noxious and is leading the white working class to a very dark place. There is definitely an element of Donald Trump's support that has its basis in racism and xenophobia."
When I first stumbled across these old JD Vance quotes last week while doom-scrolling through the nightmarish first month of Trump's second term, I almost dropped my coffee. ¿Neta? This is the same man who now stands just a heartbeat away from the presidency? The same man who spent February defending Trump's shouting match with Zelensky, championing mass deportations, and attacking the Pope?
"That I agree with you on Trump. I don't think he actually cares about folks. I think that he's leading people in a very dark direction and that's ultimately what worries me the most about Trump. Trump is a really bad candidate and frankly I think a really bad person."
Ay, cabrón. And now:
"JD Vance - now: I officially accept your nomination to be Vice President of the United States of America."
The whiplash is enough to break your neck.
Power's Seductive Dance
Here in the borderlands, where the border wall casts literal shadows across our community and on Indigenous land, we've seen this story play out before. Not with politicians, necessarily, but with people who start with principles and then abandon them for power, for acceptance, for a seat at the table—even when that table is covered in the blood of their own people.
My abuela would call it pactando con el diablo—making a deal with the devil. And Vance's metamorphosis from "never Trump" critic to enthusiastic enabler carries all the hallmarks of such a bargain.
But let's back up for those who haven't been following this particular betrayal from the beginning.
Hillbilly Elegist to Devil's Advocate
JD Vance first entered America's consciousness with his memoir "Hillbilly Elegy," which chronicled his journey from impoverished Appalachia to Yale Law School. The book, published in 2016, was hailed as an explanation for Trump's appeal to working-class white Americans. It made Vance famous, landed him on talk shows, and positioned him as the "whisperer" for a demographic many coastal elites couldn't comprehend.
Yet, at that same time, Vance was publicly and privately expressing deep concerns about Trump. The quotes at the beginning of this piece aren't isolated examples—they represent his consistent position.
JD Vance called Trump "noxious." He said Trump was "leading the white working class to a very dark place." He recognized the racism and xenophobia fueling Trump's rise.
Mira, these weren't offhand comments. This wasn't a politician hedging bets. These were moral judgments from someone who positioned himself as an authority on the very communities Trump claimed to champion.
And then... power beckoned.
By 2021, Vance had executed what gymnasts would call a perfect dismount from his principles. He announced his Senate campaign in Ohio, suddenly embracing Trumpism with the fervor of the converted. Gone was the nuanced critique of rural white alienation.
In its place? The full MAGA package: anti-immigrant rhetoric, culture war bombast, and unquestioning loyalty to Trump himself.
When asked about his conversion, Vance offered the political equivalent of "¿y qué?" – essentially saying he'd changed his mind. No deep explanation. No wrestling with the moral implications. Just ambition wearing a thin mask of conviction.
The Catholic Who Would Be King
What makes Vance's transformation especially fascinating—and disturbing—is his Catholic faith, which he frequently references as central to his worldview. Catholicism, with its emphasis on consistent ethics, care for the marginalized, and moral absolutes, seems fundamentally at odds with Trumpism's situational ethics and power politics.
Yet here we are, one month into Trump's second term, and Vice President Vance has emerged as one of the administration's most aggressive culture warriors.
When Pope Francis criticized the administration's Gaza policy as potentially enabling "genocide," Vance didn't simply disagree—he attacked the Pope's credibility, suggesting the aging pontiff was being manipulated by his advisors.
¿En serio? The devout Catholic questioning the Pope's agency while defending policies the Church explicitly condemns?
For those of us in the borderlands, where Catholicism often intertwines with indigenous spirituality into something more complex than either tradition alone, watching Vance's religious hypocrisy unfold is particularly jarring. My community's relationship with the Church is complicated—centuries of colonization mixed with genuine faith and resistance—but we understand that authentic faith must stand with the oppressed, not the oppressor.
Vance has inverted this completely. His Catholicism bends to power rather than challenging it. When the Catholic Bishops criticized the administration's deportation policies as "contrary to human dignity," Vance dismissed them as "naive." When Catholic Relief Services warned that dismantling USAID would lead to countless preventable deaths, Vance praised the move as "fiscal responsibility."
This isn't applying faith to politics. This is using faith as a prop while serving power.
The Playbook of Authoritarianism
What's happening with Vance isn't unique to him. It's the standard script for how democracies transform into authoritarian regimes. The pattern is depressingly familiar:
The outsider rises by breaking norms and exploiting divisions
Establishment figures initially resist, declaring moral lines they won't cross
One by one, they capitulate, finding excuses to embrace what they once condemned
Their capitulation normalizes the authoritarian's behavior
The authoritarian consolidates power with the help of these converted enablers
When challenged, the enablers become more extreme than the authoritarian himself
We're watching Vance perform this dance in real-time. His evolution isn't just a personal failure of character—it's a textbook example of how authoritarian movements consume and transform those who join them.
No mames, we've seen this movie before. The same pattern played out in Hungary with Viktor Orbán, in Turkey with Erdoğan, in Russia with Putin. Former critics become the most ardent defenders. Moral red lines get redrawn until they disappear entirely.
The Devil's Work Is Being Done
In just one month, the Trump-Vance administration has:
Begun dismantling environmental protections that directly impact Indigenous communities
Threatened mass deportations that would tear apart mixed-status families
Proposed ethnic cleansing in Gaza
Abandoned Ukraine to Russian aggression
Attacked transgender people's very existence
Interfered with the justice system to protect political allies
Allowed a billionaire to gut federal agencies without congressional oversight
And at every turn, it's Vance—the former "never Trumper"—who appears on television to defend these actions with a zealot's conviction.
The man who once recognized Trump's darkness now spreads it with enthusiasm.
Here in the borderlands, we're feeling these policies immediately. ICE vehicles circle neighborhoods like los buitres—vultures—waiting to swoop down. The "closed border" declaration has separated families seeking asylum. The gutting of environmental regulations means more toxic pollution in communities already overburdened.
Y sabes qué? This is exactly what Vance once warned about. This is the "very dark place" he feared Trump would lead people. Yet now he's not just following—he's helping to navigate.
Resistance Is Not Futile
I refuse to end this piece in despair. That's exactly what they want—for us to feel hopeless, to surrender to cynicism, to accept that power always corrupts and resistance is futile.
Instead, I'm reminded of what my tío Manuel told me about resistance during the darkest days of the first Trump administration: "La lucha no es de un día"—the struggle isn't for just one day. Our ancestors endured centuries of colonization, violence, and attempted erasure. Yet here we are, still speaking our languages, practicing our traditions, defending our communities.
Vance may have surrendered his principles for power, but that doesn't mean we must do the same. In fact, his betrayal makes our steadfastness more crucial.
Here's what we can do:
Document and bear witness. Record ICE activity in your communities. Share stories of those affected by these policies. Truth-telling is resistance.
Support local mutual aid networks. As federal safety nets are dismantled, community care becomes even more essential. Find your local groups and contribute what you can—time, resources, and skills.
Protect the vulnerable. Learn about sanctuary movements. Make your home, workplace, or place of worship a safe space for those targeted by this administration.
Build coalitions across differences. This moment requires solidarity across racial, religious, and class lines. Reach out to groups you wouldn't normally organize with.
Practice sustainable resistance. This is a marathon, not a sprint. Take care of yourself and each other. Celebrate small victories. Find joy in the community.
The path JD Vance has chosen—from moral clarity to power's embrace—is a cautionary tale. It shows how easily principles can be abandoned when ambition takes hold. But it also highlights the importance of those who refuse that path, who stand firm even when standing firm comes with costs.
Aquí estamos y no nos vamos. Here we are, and we're not going anywhere.
What are your thoughts on Vance's transformation? Have you witnessed similar evolutions in political figures or in your personal life? How are you maintaining your principles in challenging times?
Leave your comments below—la conversación continúa.
