Geo

Sen. J.D. Vance of Ohio is a “Hillbilly Hero.” We know this, because the Republican lawmaker keeps telling us it’s so, regularly bragging that he rose from hardscrabble rural Appalachia to become the political “voice of the Rust Belt,” the champion of America’s working class.

He doesn’t dwell, however, on Chapter Two of his rise to power: He’s a Yale Law School graduate, corporate lawyer, a high-tech San Francisco millionaire, and the darling of Silicon Valley’s billionaire elites. Indeed, such right-wing tech tycoons as Peter Thiel and Robert Mercer helped him become a vulture capitalist and amass a personal fortune. Then they invested multimillion dollars each to grease his Senate campaign. Thus, unsurprisingly, ol’ J.D. has proven to be their pet redneck, faithfully performing in Congress as Silicon Valley’s Hillbilly Sweetheart.

Yet, By Gollies, in February, when that Norfolk Southern train derailed in East Palestine, Ohio, spewing toxic chemicals into the people’s air, water, and lives, Vance suddenly sprang forth as a born-again anti-corporate champion of common folks. With a show of populist outrage, he introduced new legal requirements for railroad giants to switch to safe, modern tank cars by 2025. “We owe every American the peace of mind that their community is protected from a catastrophe of this kind,” he proclaimed.

But—Ha-ha!—just kidding. After rail, chemical, banker, and other corporate powers rushed to remind Vance that they were the ones who buttered his political bread, the “voice of the Rust Belt” dutifully got back on the corporate track. He promptly amended his own railway safety bill to put off the people’s need for “peace of mind,” allowing hazardous toxics to be shipped in the same old unsafe tank cars across our country at least until 2029—by which time East Palestine will be forgotten.

And that’s how the system works.