The public got a peek into the inner workings of the Trump campaign last week, when the independent journalist Ken Klippenstein did what major news outlets refused to: he published the opposition research dossier on JD Vance's electoral vulnerabilities that was written by the Trump campaign in the lead-up to the VP announcement.
The dossier, which was obtained in a hack thought to have been perpetrated by Iranian state interests, would have been compiled by Donald Trump's camp as part of a routine vetting process as the Republican campaign surveilled possible VP picks and assessed their strengths and weaknesses. It is thorough: at 271 pages, it contains a robust and factual accounting of the vice-presidential candidate's public statements and associations going back years. As such, it offers a unique perspective into how the Trump campaign views the race - and how they understand the controversial man who is now in their No 2 spot.
But the document, a litany of everything the Trump camp thinks is wrong with Vance, is maybe most revealing for what it omits: there is almost nothing about his comments on women, and nothing at all about his extensive, repeated and impassioned hatred for childless women, including the "cat ladies" comment that has been Vance's stickiest scandal and perhaps his greatest contribution to the campaign thus far. The comments that provoked the ire of thousands of women - including no less influential a figure than Taylor Swift - and turned the race partly into a referendum on the purpose and value of women's lives were nowhere to be found in the document.
Instead, the dossier was largely focused on comments by Vance that make him vulnerable with an audience of one: that is, his past negative statements about Trump.
The mainstream news organizations that declined to publish this hacked document justified this decision by saying that much of the information was not newsworthy. If this is their standard, it seems to be a new one: in 2016, when Russian-backed hackers obtained emails from the Hillary Clinton campaign, one of the disclosures included risotto cooking tips from campaign chair John Podesta. (He says that adding the liquid slowly helps the rice become creamier, in case you're interested.) But the Vance dossier is newsworthy, though not because of what it reveals about Vance. What the document says about Vance himself is largely a matter of public record. What is newsworthy, instead, is what the document exposes about the Trump campaign's priorities.
The dossier concerns many worries that Vance is not conservative enough. It also seems preoccupied with how the Ohio senator has wounded Trump's ego. The absence of Vance's extreme gender views from the document suggests that the Trump campaign did not understand his comments on women to even be controversial: they don't seem to have thought that it would come up.
Maybe the Trump campaign is staffed with people, including the apparatchiks who do its vetting, who have so little exposure to feminism (or, perhaps, to women more broadly) that it simply did not occur to them that anyone would find Vance's ravings about women offensive. Maybe the Trump camp made the calculation - one certainly not exclusive to the political right - that women's investment in their own rights is partial and unserious, and that they would not be moved by gendered insults to their dignity in anything like meaningful numbers. Maybe they assumed that gender politics is now a man's game, and that appeals to masculine woundedness and grievance now carry much more sway than appeals to women's rights do. If this is what they think - that misogyny can be an asset for them but never a liability - it would certainly explain some of their actions.
But the salience of the comments also signals something else that has changed this election: Trump no longer solely sets the terms of the conversation. Trump's ability to command attention and to dictate the news cycle has noticeably waned this term - think, for instance, of how quickly and decisively each of his not one but two assassination attempts disappeared from the front pages, and how little an impact they seem to have ultimately had on his support. Trump has been unable to get a nickname to stick to Kamala; he has been unsuccessful in his efforts to generate vulgar distractions about her sexual history or the authenticity of her racial identity.
So far, all he has managed to do is spread lurid and racist lies that have made life hell for the residents of Springfield, Ohio. Trump's vulgarity, his hysterics, his domineering indifference to the truth - all these used to fascinate voters, or at least the national media. But Trump has lost his juice.
Which brings us to the other reason why the dossier may not have contained many of Vance's most potent vulnerabilities: perhaps Trump's staff overlooked them because they assumed that they would be able to generate the narrative on their own, assuming that it was they, and they alone, who would dictate what the media covered and what the public cared about. Those days are over. Just ask your local cat lady.
