Vice presidential debates have long been a fixture of the U.S. election cycle, popping up between the more intense, high-stakes presidential face-offs.
Tuesday’s vice presidential debate was surprisingly good, bordering on excellent. Both JD Vance and Tim Walz were thoughtful and cordial. While the former pretty clearly won the debate, if we’re honest with ourselves, does anyone actually care? Do these debates help voters make more informed decisions, or are they just an exercise political theater with little actual relevance?
Let’s start with a basic, foundational truth about presidential politics: Very few people make their voting decisions based on the vice-presidential candidate.
When Americans go to the polls, they’re choosing the person at the top of the ticket, the one who will live in the White House and have his or her finger on the proverbial nuclear button. The vice president is essentially an insurance policy, and one that — luckily for us all — we don’t often need to cash in. If you’re weighing whether to vote for a candidate like Kamala Harris or Donald Trump, it’s doubtful you’re swayed by the fact that either Walz or Vance would be next in line. Vice presidents don’t make or break campaigns; they’re essentially political afterthoughts.
So why do we even bother with these vice-presidential debates? Let’s take a trip down memory lane, to some of the most notable VP debate train wrecks.
In 1988, we were treated to one of the most cringe-worthy moments in debate history. Sen. Lloyd Bentsen (D-Texas) absolutely demolished Sen. Dan Quayle (R-Ind.). Quayle had been drawing comparisons between himself and John F. Kennedy to beef up his credentials. Bentsen’s response has since become famous: “Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy. I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you’re no Jack Kennedy.”
The crowd gasped, Quayle’s face crumpled in embarrassment, and the burn became legendary. But that epic smackdown didn’t change the outcome of the election. George H.W. Bush and Dan Quayle won handily, proving once again that nobody really votes for the vice president.
Fast-forward to 2008. Sarah Palin, the governor of Alaska, faced off against Joe Biden. Initially, Palin was a political sensation, known for her “maverick” reputation and folksy charm. However, the debate revealed serious concerns about her readiness for office.
At one point, Palin awkwardly winked at the camera, attempting to win over viewers with a “we’re in this together” gesture. Instead of engaging in substantive policy discussions, her performance felt more like a series of catchphrases — most notably her “You betcha!” — that lacked depth.
Polls and public opinion after the debate reflected a growing perception that Palin was not adequately prepared for the role of vice president. John McCain’s campaign was hit hard, as his VP pick became a liability rather than an asset. The debate may not have single-handedly shifted the outcome, but it certainly contributed to a narrative that the Republican ticket was weaker. Barack Obama and Biden’s decisive victory was at least aided by these dynamics.
Then there’s the 2020 vice-presidential debate. Mike Pence and Kamala Harris went head-to-head, but what do most people remember? Not the discussion of policy, not the nuances of healthcare or foreign relations or anything substantive. They remember the fly — a literal fly that landed on Pence’s head during the debate and became the viral moment of the night. It trended on social media, launched a thousand memes. But did it change anyone’s vote? If anything, it served to underline how little these debates matter in the grand scheme of things.
The evidence is undeniable: vice presidential debates don’t move the needle. They may be full of sound and fury, but people don’t tune in hoping to be swayed one way or another. They tune in for the drama, for the potential gaffes or political fodder, or maybe out of some sense of civic duty. Deep down, everyone knows that the real decision is about the top of the ticket.
Even on Tuesday, it was the presidential candidates taking shots more than the two hopefuls on stage. It just all points to the reality that the role of the vice president is fairly limited.
Sure, they preside over the Senate, cast tie-breaking votes if needed, and are first in line for the Oval Office if something happens to the sitting president. But day-to-day, the vice president’s job is largely ceremonial, involving attending funerals, cutting ribbons and showing up when the president can’t. Yes, vice presidents may advise the president and may have a portfolio of specific responsibilities, but no one looks at a vice president as a game-changer in any administration.
There’s a strong argument to be made that we should ditch these debates altogether. Presidential elections are already overstuffed with noise, and there’s precious little time for real, substantive conversation. Every minute spent watching the vice presidential debate is a minute we could be using to engage with the presidential candidates themselves — people whose policies and decisions will actually shape the nation’s future.
So why do we still have them? The answer, it seems, is tradition. Like so many elements of American politics, we do it because we’ve always done it. But traditions can — and should — be questioned, especially when they don’t serve any practical purpose.
Ultimately, what we need are more opportunities to hold presidential candidates accountable, not more distractions. The vice presidential debate is a relic, a vestige of a bygone era. It’s probably time to let it go.
Aron Solomon is the chief strategy officer for Amplify. He has taught entrepreneurship at McGill University and the University of Pennsylvania.
