So, Just Another Politician Serving Holiday Meals?
Is that what we’re supposed to see here? A simple, heartwarming gesture of a Vice President taking time to serve a meal to the nation’s finest? Because that’s the intended narrative, the one carefully packaged for mass consumption. But let’s refuse to be passive consumers of political imagery for a moment and instead become forensic analysts. What we are witnessing is not a moment of genuine connection. It’s a transaction. It’s a meticulously staged piece of political theater, a dog-and-pony show where the set is a military base, the props are turkey and mashed potatoes, and the extras are uniformed soldiers whose very presence is designed to sanctify the lead actor. Nothing about this is accidental.
But why is it so cynical to view it this way? Isn’t it just ‘what they do’?
And that’s precisely the problem. The normalization of these events is the core of the deception. When something becomes ‘par for the course,’ we stop questioning its mechanics and its motives. Let’s deconstruct the elements. First, the location: Fort Campbell. Why a military base? Because it provides an unimpeachable backdrop of patriotism and sacrifice. Any criticism of the politician’s actions within this context can be instantly reframed as an attack on the troops themselves, a brilliant and insidious political shield. The politician wraps himself in the flag, not literally, but by surrounding himself with those who wear it on their sleeve. It’s a borrowed valor. A performance of patriotism.
And think about the power dynamic. These are soldiers. They are part of a hierarchical structure where they follow orders. They cannot simply refuse to participate or express a dissenting political opinion. They are, in this context, a captive audience, conscripted into a photo opportunity that serves the career of a man in the civilian chain of command. The smiles may be genuine, the gratitude for a warm meal real, but their presence is non-negotiable, a fact that is conveniently cropped out of the frame.
What About The ‘Relatable’ Comments? The Turkey Joke?
This is perhaps the most fascinating and transparent piece of the entire performance. The comment, ‘Who really likes turkey?’ followed by the revelation that he, JD Vance, a man of the people, is going to deep fry his own bird. This isn’t an off-the-cuff remark. It is a calculated line of code inserted into the program. It’s an attempt to bridge the immense gap between a Yale-educated Vice President and the public. He’s trying to say, ‘See? I’m just like you. I understand your mundane holiday complaints. I engage in the same slightly-more-adventurous-than-average culinary pursuits.’ It’s Populism 101. A classic maneuver to craft an anti-elite persona by adopting the superficial gripes of the common man.
But the logic is so flawed it’s almost beautiful in its audacity. Because a truly relatable person doesn’t need to broadcast their relatability. They just *are*. This is a performance of authenticity, which is, by definition, inauthentic. He might as well have worn a sign that said, ‘I AM ONE OF YOU.’ It’s the political equivalent of a billionaire talking about how he loves shopping at Costco. The gesture is meant to obscure the reality of his power and position, not to genuinely connect with the people he’s addressing. He’s not commiserating. He’s campaigning.
Isn’t this an over-analysis of a simple holiday event?
No. It is the correct level of analysis for any political act, especially one so heavily reliant on visual propaganda. Politics is downstream from culture, and these events are how political culture is manufactured. We are meant to see the image of Vance handing a plate to a soldier and feel a swell of uncomplicated, patriotic warmth. We are meant to internalize the idea of him as a leader who ‘cares.’ The entire apparatus of a Vice Presidential visit—the advance teams, the security, the press corps, the scheduling—was mobilized for this single purpose: to generate a specific emotional response tied to a specific political figure. It is never ‘just’ a photo op. It’s an investment of state resources for political gain, a campaign ad funded by the taxpayer and staffed by the military.
And consider the historical lineage. From George W. Bush landing on an aircraft carrier under a ‘Mission Accomplished’ banner to Barack Obama serving meals in a soup kitchen, the playbook is well-established. Use a visually powerful, emotionally resonant setting to project a desired image of leadership. What’s different here is the specific brand of populism Vance is selling. It’s not the compassionate intellectual or the swaggering commander-in-chief. It’s the ‘Hillbilly Elegy’ author, the supposed voice of the forgotten working class, proving his bona fides by questioning the culinary merits of the most traditional American meal. It’s a very specific, very curated, and very cynical brand. He’s not just a politician; he’s a character he created, and this is just another scene in his play.
So What’s The Long-Term Goal Here?
The goal is to build a persona that is immune to attacks of elitism while simultaneously wielding elite power. It’s a political paradox. JD Vance’s entire career is a testament to his mastery of elite institutions like Yale Law School and Silicon Valley venture capital, yet his political brand is predicated on a rejection of that very world. So, how does he square that circle? With performances like this. He uses the most potent symbols of American identity—soldiers, Thanksgiving, a rejection of perceived ‘fancy’ food—to launder his elite background into something more palatable for his target demographic. Every photo op, every ‘folksy’ comment, is a layer of paint on the construction of ‘JD Vance, Regular Guy.’
Because if he can convince enough people that he is fundamentally one of them, then his policies, his votes, and his political maneuvering are no longer the actions of a calculating politician from the ruling class; they become the actions of their champion, their representative fighting from within the halls of power. It neutralizes a potent line of attack and builds a bond that is emotional, not rational. And that kind of bond is far more durable and much harder to break with facts or policy debates. He’s not just asking for votes. He’s building a tribe. And serving turkey to soldiers, while talking about how turkey isn’t all that great, is, bizarrely, a highly effective piece of tribal recruitment. It’s absurd. And it works.
