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      As J.D. Vance Courts Ohio, His Fealty to Trump Proves Double-Edged

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      MIDDLETOWN, Ohio — Blue jeans evoked his hardscrabble upbringing, and a crisp dress shirt conveyed his success as a Yale Law School graduate, venture capitalist and best-selling memoirist — with the open collar signaling that he was still just J.D., who happens to be the Ohio Republican candidate for the Senate.This was the J.D. Vance uniform as he spoke one October Saturday to Republican campaign volunteers gathered in a Cincinnati office, near a portrait of a brow-knitted Donald J. Trump. Mr. Vance reassured those about to go door-to-door that at least they wouldn’t encounter his grandmother, the fierce Mamaw, who once told a Marine recruiter that if he put one foot on her property, “I’ll blow it off.”The crowd laughed in recognition, so famous is the tale of how Mamaw’s life lessons about loyalty, education and self-esteem helped Mr. Vance to overcome a poor, dysfunctional childhood. He would repeat the story at another event two hours later.The weekend of campaigning came a month after Mr. Trump told a packed rally in Youngstown that Mr. Vance was a suck-up. “J.D. is kissing my ass he wants my support so much,” the former president had said — while Mr. Vance, Marine Corps veteran and Mamaw’s grandson, stood by.It was just one moment in Mr. Vance’s contentious race against his Democratic opponent, Representative Tim Ryan. And the reliably impolitic Mr. Trump delights in diminishing candidates aching for his benediction, especially one who once asserted that he was unfit for office — who once, in fact, wondered whether he might be America’s Hitler — but who, since entering politics, has demonstrated fervent fealty.“The best president of my lifetime,” Mr. Vance has maintained.Still, the kisses-my-ass tag has followed Mr. Vance like a yippy dog ever since, with Mr. Ryan gleefully invoking it again in their second debate last week. When Mr. Vance maintained that Mr. Trump’s comment was a “joke” that riffed on what he called without explication a “false” New York Times article — about the reluctance of some Republicans to have the former president campaign for them — one of the moderators sought clarification.“So I get this straight,” said Bertram de Souza, a local journalist. “When the former president said, ‘J.D. is kissing my ass because he wants my support,’ you took that as a joke?”“I know the president very well, and he was joking about a New York Times story,” Mr. Vance said. “That’s all he was doing. I didn’t take offense to it.”Supporters of J.D. Vance packed a campaign event in Beavercreek on Tuesday.Maddie McGarvey for The New York TimesBeyond reflecting a Republican Party utterly beholden to Mr. Trump, the moment highlighted the stark transformation of Mamaw’s centrist grandson into a Trump loyalist whose raw, combative style — he is fond of the term “scumbags” — has him well positioned to become the next senator from Ohio.This remarkable evolution has not gone unnoticed in Middletown, the distressed Rust Belt city where he grew up.Nancy Nix, 53, a prominent local Republican and the treasurer for Butler County, which includes most of Middletown, said that Mr. Vance’s conservative outsider persona resonates in a state that is red “and becoming redder.” She said that his down-to-earth manner and Ivy League intellect appeals to many voters, boding well for a bright political future.“I don’t know if his ambition knows any bounds,” Ms. Nix said.But others say his ambition comes at a cost. Ami Vitori, 48, a fourth-generation Middletonian who knows Mr. Vance, said that while she disagrees with most of his positions, he is a “good dude” whose about-face support of Mr. Trump smacks of cold political calculation.The State of the 2022 Midterm ElectionsElection Day is Tuesday, Nov. 8.Bracing for a Red Wave: Republicans were already favored to flip the House. Now they are looking to run up the score by vying for seats in deep-blue states.Pennsylvania Senate Race: Lt. Gov. John Fetterman and Mehmet Oz clashed in one of the most closely watched debates of the midterm campaign. Here are five takeaways.Polling Analysis: If these poll results keep up, everything from a Democratic hold in the Senate and a narrow House majority to a total G.O.P. rout becomes imaginable, writes Nate Cohn, The Times’s chief political analyst.Strategy Change: In the final stretch before the elections, some Democrats are pushing for a new message that acknowledges the economic uncertainty troubling the electorate.“He’s an opportunist,” she said. “He knows what he has to do to win, but I think, deep down, he hates it.”Rodney Muterspaw, 52, a Middletown councilman and former police chief, said he was a fan of Mr. Vance, who once endorsed his self-published police memoir. Still, he expressed surprise at Mr. Vance’s reaction to Mr. Trump’s supposed joke.“That’s just not the Middletown way,” said Mr. Muterspaw. “If someone calls you out like that, there’s going to be a very candid, not-so-nice response. I’m sure you’d hear some four-letter words there.”A cardboard cutout of former President Donald J. Trump in a Vance campaign office in Cincinnati.Brian Kaiser for The New York TimesA volunteer holds campaign materials before a canvassing event in Cincinnati.Brian Kaiser for The New York TimesMr. Vance spent this mid-October weekend plowing friendly ground. He began at the Hamilton County Republican headquarters in Cincinnati, where the nearly all-white crowd prepared to go door-knocking in a city that is 40 percent Black. After that he headed to an office park on the city’s suburban fringe, then on to a parking lot in the town of Lebanon, for more of the same.Tall, with gray flecking his brown beard, Mr. Vance has the campaign vibe of an easygoing, hyper-smart soccer dad. His go-to themes adhere to the 2022 Republican script that Democrats are to blame for every ill known to society, beginning with inflation.The Democrats are a “total disaster” who need to be sent a message, he said at one stop: “That if you declare war on our police officers, if you declare war on our energy industry, if you drive up the cost of everything and if you open up the southern border, we’re not going to take it anymore. We’re going to send you home and make you get a real job.”But Mr. Vance’s mild manner tends to mask the far-right influences that course through his positions, and which do not always jibe with the J.D. Vance presented in his 2016 memoir, “Hillbilly Elegy.”Earlier this year, on the first anniversary of the Jan. 6 riot at the U.S. Capitol, Mr. Vance tweeted a link to an organization seeking support for people indicted in the attack — many of them charged with assaulting the police — followed by another tweet calling some of those being held “political prisoners.”He has said that he condemns the Jan. 6 violence, but that Democrats have overemphasized the attack on the Capitol, and the media’s “obsession” with the riot comes “while people can’t afford the cost of groceries.”J.D. Vance at an event in Cincinnati this month as he campaigned for the Senate.Brian Kaiser for The New York TimesDuring the Ohio primary a few months later, Mr. Vance said, “I say it all the time: I think the election was stolen from Trump.”His campaign did not respond to repeated questions asking whether he believed that President Biden was legitimately elected.In his memoir, Mr. Vance lamented a “deep skepticism” of society’s institutions that he said was caused by a mistrust of the media and reflected by several conspiracy theories. These included that the government “played a role” in the Sept. 11 attacks and that the 2012 Sandy Hook school massacre in Newtown, Conn., was part of a federal plot to build support for gun control.Both theories were promoted by the far-right provocateur Alex Jones, whom Mr. Vance mentioned in his book. But by the time he announced his candidacy last year, Mr. Vance seemed to have become more accepting of the Alex Jones brand.In September 2021, close to the 20th anniversary of 9/11, he called Mr. Jones “a far more reputable source of information than Rachel Maddow.”He followed up by telling Fox News Radio that while Mr. Jones says “some crazy stuff” — such as asserting that the slaughter of 20 children and 6 adults at Sandy Hook was a hoax — he also occasionally says “things that I think are interesting.”Mr. Vance declined to be interviewed for this article.J.D. Vance with supporters in Lebanon, Ohio, this month.Brian Kaiser for The New York TimesOn Sunday afternoon, Mr. Vance donned a Cincinnati Bengals sweatshirt for the annual Darke County G.O.P. Hog Roast on the county fairgrounds in rural Greenville, where the compact is: Listen to some speeches, then line up for free hamburgers and hot dogs.“God, Guns & Trump” and “Trump 2024: Take America Back” banners hung on the walls, a young woman sang “God Bless the U.S.A.” and a signed copy of “Hillbilly Elegy” was being raffled off at the front table.Mr. Vance’s memoir described his family’s struggles with low-paying jobs, alcoholism, drug addiction and abuse — a self-destructive cycle he managed to escape through the tough love of his foul-mouthed, big-hearted Mamaw. He presented his “hillbilly” experiences as a reflection of a failed social system that discourages personal responsibility and feeds resentment against the government.The book was both celebrated as a primer for why Mr. Trump won the 2016 election and derided as an overgeneralization of poor white culture. Reception was also mixed in Middletown, population 50,000, where the book is set.Some residents, like Ms. Vitori, who bought and transformed the old J.C. Penney building into a boutique hotel and restaurant several years ago, said that the book, while vividly evoking Mr. Vance’s childhood, painted Middletown’s struggles with such a broad brush that it impeded ongoing efforts to revitalize the city.Ms. Vitori, a former member of the City Council, said that she confronted Mr. Vance, who seemed genuinely interested in helping his hometown. But nothing came of their discussions, she said.“Most people here either feel that he’s a good kid or that ‘He doesn’t represent me,’” Ms. Vitori said. “Very few people are rah-rah.”Kelly Cuvar, 43, a Democrat who works as a fund-raiser for congressional candidates and splits her time between Middletown and Washington, said that she also experienced childhood poverty while attending Middletown schools. But, she said, she came away with entirely different lessons.J.D. Vance in Columbus, Ohio.Maddie McGarvey for The New York TimesVance supporters at a campaign event in Delaware, Ohio.Maddie McGarvey for The New York TimesMr. Vance “has this idea that he did this himself and got himself out of poverty, the whole bootstrap thing,” Ms. Cuvar said. By contrast, she said, she was well aware of the safety net, “however flimsy,” that had helped her escape poverty, and felt “pure bafflement” that Mr. Vance’s takeaway was so different.“Sadness as well,” she added.Mr. Muterspaw, the former police chief, said the Middletown depicted by Mr. Vance is the same that he knew as a child growing up in difficult circumstances. He said that much of the lingering resentment of Mr. Vance centers more on his harsh past criticisms of Mr. Trump.Even when Mr. Vance apologized, he said, some people “did not forgive him.”But these same people will still flock to vote for Mr. Vance, Mr. Muterspaw said. He’s a Republican, he has Mr. Trump’s endorsement — and his political flip-flop is immaterial now that he’s ended up in the former president’s good graces.“It’s a politically strategic move,” Mr. Muterspaw said. “And I think it’s going to pay off for him.”Ms. Nix, 54, the Butler County treasurer, agreed that Mr. Vance needed Mr. Trump’s blessing, although she called the former president’s kiss-my-ass comment at the Youngstown rally “very sad.”As for how Mr. Vance handled what many saw as a public humiliation, she said: “That’s a tough pill to swallow. But he wants to win.”Commercials for J.D. Vance being shown in the Delaware County Republican Headquarters.Maddie McGarvey for The New York TimesThe many speeches at the Darke County hog roast finally ended, and a local official shouted, “Who’s hungry?” He began calling out table numbers to ensure an orderly procession to the promised food.Mr. Vance shook hands, smiled for photographs and paused for a few questions from local reporters. He said he expected to win the race “pretty comfortably,” no matter that polls suggest a neck-and-neck sprint.“Ohio polls always, always have missed big, and they’ve always missed a lot of Republican support,” he said. “I think we have a lot of work to do, but I feel very, very good about where we are.”Mr. Vance worked his way slowly toward the exit, past his raffle-worthy memoir, out into the warm autumn evening. Soon he was behind the wheel of a white S.U.V., his wife, Usha, by his side, their three children nestled in the back.Looking exhausted, the would-be senator from Ohio waved to a few campaign aides as he drove away, his many written and spoken words rattling behind like tin cans tied to the rear bumper — including what he told NBC News last year while seeking Mr. Trump’s endorsement.“My intuition with Trump — it’s interesting,” Mr. Vance had said. “I think that he gets a certain kick out of people kissing his ass. But I also think he thinks that people who kiss his ass all the time are weak.”Kirsten Noyes contributed research. More

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      Can Tim Ryan Pull Off the Biggest Upset of the Midterms in Ohio?

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      ZANESVILLE, Ohio — Tim Ryan is a “crazy, lying fraud.” That’s how J.D. Vance, the best-selling memoirist turned Republican Senate candidate from Ohio, opened his remarks at his September rally alongside Donald Trump in the middle of the congressional district Mr. Ryan has represented for two decades.Mr. Ryan seems like an unlikely object of such caustic rhetoric. A 49-year-old former college-football quarterback, he is the paragon of affability, a genial Everyman whose introductory campaign video is so innocuous that it might easily be mistaken for an insurance commercial. His great passion, outside of politics, is yoga and mindfulness practice.“We have to love each other, we have to care about each other, we have to see the best in each other, we have to forgive each other,” he declared when he won the Democratic Senate primary in May.He isn’t just preaching kindness and forgiveness. For years, he has warned his fellow Democrats that their embrace of free trade and globalization would cost them districts like the one he represents in the Mahoning River Valley — and lobbied them to prioritize domestic manufacturing, which, he argued, could repair some of the damage.His efforts went nowhere. Mr. Ryan failed in his bid to replace Nancy Pelosi as House minority leader in 2016. His presidential run in 2020 ended with barely a trace. And his opponent, Mr. Vance, was expected to coast to victory this year in a state that Mr. Trump carried twice by eight points.But things haven’t gone as predicted. Mr. Ryan is running close enough in the polls that a political action committee aligned with Mitch McConnell, the Republican Senate leader, has had to commit $28 million to keep the seat (now held by Rob Portman, who is retiring), and Mr. Vance has had to ratchet up his rhetorical attacks against this “weak, fake congressman.”After years of being overlooked, Tim Ryan is pointing his party toward a path to recovery in the Midwest. On the campaign trail, he has embraced a unifying tone that stands out from the crassness and divisiveness that Mr. Trump and his imitators have wrought. A significant number of what he calls the “exhausted majority” of voters have responded gratefully.And his core message — a demand for more aggressive government intervention to arrest regional decline — is not only resonating with voters but, crucially, breaking through with the Democratic leaders who presided over that decline for years. The Democrats have passed a burst of legislation that will pave the way for two new Intel chip plants in the Columbus exurbs, spur investment in new electric vehicle ventures in Mr. Ryan’s district, and benefit solar-panel factories around Toledo, giving him, at long last, concrete examples to cite of his party rebuilding the manufacturing base in which the region took such pride.In short, the party is doing much more of what Mr. Ryan has long said would save its political fortunes in the Midwest. The problem for him — and also for them — is that it may have come too late.Mr. Ryan is a genial Everyman who says, “We have to see the best in each other, we have to forgive each other.”Gaelen Morse for The New York TimesTim Ryan was not always so alone in Congress. Manufacturing regions of the Northeast and Midwest used to produce many other Democrats like him, often with white-ethnic Catholic, working-class backgrounds and strong ties to organized labor. (Mr. Ryan’s family is Irish and Italian, and both his grandfather and great-grandfather worked in the steel mills.) One particularly notorious example of the type was James Traficant, who represented the Mahoning Valley in highly eccentric fashion and served seven years in prison after a 2002 conviction on charges that included soliciting bribes and racketeering. That left his young former staff member — Tim Ryan — to win the seat at age 29.A few stalwarts remain: Marcy Kaptur, whose mother was a union organizer at a sparkplug plant, will likely hold her Toledo-area House seat after her MAGA opponent lied about his military record. And Sherrod Brown, whose upbringing in hard-hit Mansfield and generally disheveled affect has lent authenticity to his own progressive populism (never mind the fact that he’s a doctor’s son and has a Yale degree), has survived two Senate re-elections thanks to his personal appeal and weak opponents.But nearly all the rest have vanished. Many of them fell victim to the Democratic wipeout in 2010. Others succumbed to the extreme Republican gerrymandering that followed. But central to their disappearance was the economic decline of the communities they represented, which was on a scale that remains hard for many in more prosperous pockets of the country to grasp.In the first decade of this century, after Bill Clinton signed NAFTA in 1993 and ushered China into the World Trade Organization in 2000, so many manufacturing businesses closed in Ohio — about 3,500, nearly a fifth of the total — that its industrial electricity consumption fell by more than a quarter. Mr. Ryan’s district was among the most ravaged. By 2010, the population of Youngstown had fallen 60 percent from its 1930 peak and it ranked among the poorest cities in the country.For the Democrats representing these devastated areas, the fallout was enormous. “We were always supposed to be the party of working people, and so those rank-and-file union members kept getting crushed, and jobs kept leaving, and their unions and the Democrats weren’t able to do anything for them,” said Mr. Ryan, when I met with him in August, after an event he held at a substance abuse treatment program in Zanesville. Democratic candidates were also putting their attention elsewhere, on social issues, and voters noticed.Mr. Ryan is determined not to make the same mistake. “You want culture wars?” he asks in one TV ad, while throwing darts in a bar. “I’m not your guy. You want a fighter for Ohio? I’m all in.”In the 2000s, as Mr. Ryan saw his band of like-minded Democrats dwindle, he started looking for answers, and he found some of them at the Coalition for a Prosperous America, a small advocacy group founded in 2007 to promote American manufacturing and agriculture.The group’s theory is fairly straightforward: The “free trade” that has been so ruinous to manufacturing regions like the Mahoning Valley has been anything but free, given all the various forms of support that other nations provide their own industries. The group has been lobbying members of both parties to consider explicit support for U.S. producers, whether in the form of tariffs or subsidies, even if it means brushing up against World Trade Organization rules.For years, the Coalition for a Prosperous America and its allies in Congress ran up against free-trade orthodoxy. But growing alarm over climate change, the breakdown of global supply chains during the pandemic and Russia’s war against Ukraine have brought a stunning turnaround. The Inflation Reduction Act includes many of the kinds of policies that Mr. Ryan and C.P.A. have championed, including refundable tax credits for solar-panel production, a 15 percent alternative minimum tax for corporations, and requirements that electric vehicles have North American-made parts to qualify for consumer tax credits. This month, the Biden administration announced major new tech-export controls aimed at China, with the U.S. trade representative, Katherine Tai, declaring that free trade “cannot come at the cost of further weakening our supply chains.”It’s a vindication for Mr. Ryan and his former House allies, such as Tom Perriello, who represented south-central Virginia between 2009 and 2011.Megan Jelinger for The New York Times“The elite echo chamber assumed away all the human costs” of globalization, said Mr. Perriello, instead of realizing industries needed to be helped to save middle-class jobs.Still, the shift has come only after tremendous economic losses for places like the Mahoning Valley and political losses for the Democrats. In the 2020 presidential election, Democrats lost white voters without college degrees by 26 percentage points nationwide, and their margins among working-class Black and Hispanic voters shrank, too. They lost Mahoning County, once a Democratic stronghold, for the first time since 1972.“For the most part, people lost jobs here and Washington wasn’t doing anything for them,” said David Betras, the former chairman of the Mahoning County Democratic Party. “And then Trump came along and he said, ‘Hey, they screwed you.’ People thought, ‘At least he sees me. He’s giving me water.’” It might be contaminated water, as Mr. Betras noted, “but at least it’s water.”Mr. Ryan’s attempt to point his party in a different direction in the Midwest is still running up against resistance, even as he has drawn close to Mr. Vance in the polls. The first ad released by Mr. Ryan’s campaign, in April, is Exhibit A.Wearing an untucked shirt, he delivers a barrage against the threat presented by China: “It is us versus China and instead of taking them on, Washington’s wasting our time on stupid fights … China is out-manufacturing us left and right … America can never be dependent on Communist China … It is time for us to fight back … We need to build things in Ohio by Ohio workers.”By the standards of the Ohio Senate race of 2022, it was pretty mild stuff. At an April rally with Mr. Trump, after completing his extreme pivot from Trump critic to acolyte, Mr. Vance lashed out at “corrupt scumbags who take their marching orders from the Communist Chinese.” But the Ryan ad nonetheless got opprobrium from Asian Americans, who said it risked fueling anti-Asian sentiment.Irene Lin, a Democratic strategist based in Ohio, found that remarkable. “It’s so weird that he runs an ad attacking China, and people say, ‘You sound like Trump.’ Tim’s been attacking China for decades! Trump co-opted it from us and we need to take it back, because Trump is a complete fraud on this.”Still, the episode underscored Mr. Ryan’s conundrum: how to match Mr. Trump and Mr. Vance when it comes to the decline of Ohio manufacturing without offending allies within the liberal Democratic coalition.When I asked Mr. Ryan in Zanesville how he would distinguish his own views from those of Mr. Vance, he insisted it would not be difficult. For one thing, he noted, Mr. Vance has attacked a core element of the industrial policy that Mr. Ryan sees as key to reviving Ohio: electric vehicle subsidies. At the Mahoning rallies, Mr. Vance denounced them as giveaways for the elites, which, as Mr. Ryan sees it, overlooks the hundreds of workers who now have jobs at the old Lordstown General Motors plant in the Mahoning Valley, building electric cars, trucks and tractors as part of a new venture led by the Taiwanese company Foxconn, and at a large battery plant across the street.“He’s worried about losing the internal-combustion auto jobs — dude, where’ve you been?” Mr. Ryan asked. “Those jobs are going. That factory was empty.”Mr. Ryan, left, at a debate with his Republican opponent, J.D. Vance. Mr. Ryan says his focus on economic issues will resonate with the “exhausted majority” of voters.Gaelen Morse for The New York TimesLess than two months after Mr. Ryan’s anti-culture war ad, the Supreme Court issued its Dobbs ruling on abortion, bolstering Democrats’ prospects with moderate voters of the sort who help decide elections in places like suburban Columbus — and making it harder for Mr. Ryan to avoid hot-button social issues. He calls the ruling “the largest governmental overreach into personal lives in my lifetime,” but his continued focus on economic issues shows that he believes that’s not enough to win an election. Recent polls suggest he may be right.Mr. Ryan was in the Columbus suburbs on the evening after we spoke in Zanesville, but he was there to discuss the China ad, not abortion. At an event hosted by local Asian American associations, a few women told Mr. Ryan how hurtful they had found the ad. He answered in a conciliatory tone, but did not apologize.The ad, he said, was directed at the Chinese government, not Asian or Asian American people, and the things in it needed saying. “I got nothing but love in my heart. I have no hate in my heart,” he said, but the United States needed to rise to meet China’s aggressive trade policies. In Youngstown, Chinese “steel would land on our shore so subsidized, that it was the same price as the raw material cost for an American company before they even turn the lights on. That is what they have been doing.”“That is not in your ad,” said one of the women. “You need to put those things in your ad.”“I just want to make a point,” Mr. Ryan said. “One is, I love you. Two is, I will always defend you and never let anyone try to hurt you, never. Not on my watch. But we have got to absolutely and decisively defeat China economically. And if we don’t do that, you’re going to have these countries dictating the rules of the road for the entire world and continuing to try to displace and weaken the United States.”Watching Mr. Ryan, I was struck by what a delicate balancing act he was trying to pull off. He was, on the one hand, the last of a breed, a son of steel country with two public college degrees (Bowling Green State University and the University of New Hampshire) in a party increasingly dominated by professionals with elite degrees.But he was trying to adapt to today’s liberal coalition, too, with his soft-edged rhetoric and, yes, the mindfulness stuff, which Mr. Vance has lampooned. (“You know Tim Ryan has not one but two books on yoga and meditation?” he said at the September rally with Mr. Trump.)There were other models on the ballot this fall for how Democrats might seek to win in the Midwest: Gov. Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan running for re-election on abortion rights, John Fetterman running for Senate in Pennsylvania on his unique brand of postindustrial authenticity, Mandela Barnes running for Senate in Wisconsin as an avatar of youthful diversity.But Mr. Ryan’s bid may have the most riding on it, because it is based on substantive disagreements within the party about how to rebuild the middle class and the middle of the country. For years, too many leading Democrats stood by as the wrenching transformation of the economy devastated communities, while accruing benefits to a small set of highly prosperous cities, mostly on the coasts, that became the party’s gravitational center. It was so easy to disregard far-off desolation — or to take only passing note of it, counting the dollar stores as one happened to traverse areas of decline — until Mr. Trump’s victory brought it to the fore.With its belated embrace of the industrial policy advocated by Mr. Ryan, the Democratic Party seems finally to be reckoning with this failure. It means grappling with regional decline, because not everyone can relocate to prosperous hubs, and even if they did, it wouldn’t necessarily help the Democrats in a political system that favors the geographic dispersal of party voters.It means recognizing the emotional power of made-in-America patriotism, which can serve to neuter the uglier aspects of the opposition’s anti-immigrant appeals. And it means transcending the culture-war incitements offered up by the likes of Mr. Trump and Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida.The approach may well fall short this time in Ohio, because Mr. Ryan’s party has let so much terrain slip out of its hands. But even so, it showed what might have been, all along, and might yet be again, if a region can begin to recover, and the resentment can begin to recede.Alec MacGillis (@AlecMacGillis) is a reporter for ProPublica, an editor at large for The Baltimore Banner, and the author, most recently, of “Fulfillment: America in the Shadow of Amazon.”The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      Politician, Thy Name Is Hypocrite

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      What’s worse — politicians passing a bad law or politicians passing a bad law while attempting to make it look reasonable with meaningless window dressing?You wind up in the same place, but I’ve gotta go with the jerks who pretend.Let’s take, oh, I don’t know, abortion. Sure, lawmakers who vote to ban it know they’re imposing some voters’ religious beliefs on the whole nation. But maybe they can make it look kinda fair.For instance Mark Ronchetti, who’s running for governor in New Mexico, was “strongly pro-life” until the uproar following the Supreme Court’s decision overturning Roe. Now, his campaign website says he’s looking for a “middle ground” that would allow abortions “in cases involving rape, incest and when a mother’s life is at risk.”That’s a very popular spin. The public’s rejection of the court’s ruling, plus the stunning vote for abortion rights in a recent statewide referendum in Kansas, has left politicians looking for some way to dodge the anti-choice label. Without, um, actually changing. “I am pro-life, and make no apologies for that. But I also understand that this is a representative democracy,” said Tim Michels, a Republican candidate for Wisconsin governor, when he embraced the rape-and-incest dodge.Mehmet Oz, who’s running for Senate in Pennsylvania, used to support abortion access back when he wanted the world to call him “Dr. Oz.” But now that his day job is being a conservative Republican, he’s “100 percent pro-life.” Nevertheless, he still feels there should be an exception for cases of … rape and incest.We’ve come a long — OK, we’ve come at least a little way from the time, a decade ago, when Todd Akin, the Republican Senate candidate in Missouri, argued it was impossible for a woman to get pregnant from “legitimate rape.” And Akin did lose that race.The backtracking can get pretty creative — or desperate, depending on your perspective. In New Hampshire, Don Bolduc, who’s running for the Senate, was strongly anti-choice before he won the Republican primary. (“Killing babies is unbelievably irresponsible.”)Now, Bolduc the nominee feels a federal abortion ban “doesn’t make sense” and complains that he’s not getting the proper respect for his position. Which is that it’s a state issue. And that his opponent, Senator Maggie Hassan, should “get over it.”These days, it’s hard to sell an across-the-board rule that doesn’t take victims of forced sex into account. In Ohio recently, Senate candidate J.D. Vance tried to stick to his anti-abortion guns, but did back down a smidge when questioned about whether that 10-year-old Ohio rape victim who was taken out of state for an abortion should have been forced to have a baby.And then Vance quickly changed the subject, pointing out that the man accused of raping her was an “illegal alien.” This is an excellent reminder that in this election season there is virtually no problem that Republicans can’t find a way of connecting to the Mexican border.As sympathetic as all rape victims are, the exemption rule would not have much impact. No one knows exactly what proportion of pregnancies are caused by rape and incest, but the number “looks very, very small,” Elizabeth Nash of the Guttmacher Institute told me.And what about, say, a young woman who’s already a teenage mother, working the night shift at a fast-food outlet, whose boyfriend’s condom failed? No suggestion for any special mercy there. You can’t help thinking the big difference is a desire to punish any woman who wanted to have sex.Another popular method of dodging the abortion issue is fiddling with timelines. Blake Masters, the ever-fascinating Arizona Senate candidate, originally opposed abortion from the moment of conception. (“I think it’s demonic.”) Now his revamped website just calls for a national ban once a woman is six months pregnant.And we will stop here very, very briefly to mention that the number of six-month abortions is infinitesimal.Whenever this issue comes up, I remember my school days, which involved Catholic education from kindergarten through college. Wonderful world in many ways, but there wasn’t much concern about keeping religion out of public policy. Especially when it came to abortion. Any attempt to stop the pregnancy from the moment of conception on was murder.That’s still Catholic dogma, you know. Politicians who think they can dodge the issue with their rape-and-incest exceptions appear to ignore the fact that as the church sees it, an embryo that’s the product of a rape still counts as worthy of protection.It took me quite a while to get my head around the abortion issue and I have sympathy for people who have strong religious opposition to ending a pregnancy.Some folks who hold to that dogma try to encourage pregnant women to have their babies by providing counseling, financial support and adoption services, all of which is great as long as the woman in question isn’t being forced to join the program.But anti-abortion laws are basically an attempt to impose one group’s religion on the country as a whole. It’s flat-out unconstitutional, no matter how Justice Samuel Alito feels.And the rape-or-incest exception isn’t humanitarian. It’s a meaningless rhetorical ploy intended to allow politicians to have it both ways.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      The Midterms Look Very Different if You’re Not a Democrat or a Republican

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      Ross Douthat, a Times Opinion columnist, hosted an online conversation with Liel Leibovitz, an editor at large for Tablet magazine, and Stephanie Slade, a senior editor at Reason magazine, to discuss how they and other “politically homeless” Americans are thinking about the midterm elections.Ross Douthat: Thanks to you both for serving as representatives of the important part of America that feels legitimately torn between the political parties. Liel, in December of 2021 you wrote an essay about what you called “the Turn,” meaning the feeling of no longer being at home on the political left, of being alienated from the Democratic Party by everything from Covid-era school closures to doctrinaire progressivism.Where does “the Turn” carry you when it comes to electoral politics, facing the (arguably) binary choices of the midterm elections?Liel Leibovitz: Nowhere good, I’m afraid. I’m an immigrant, so I have no real tribal or longstanding loyalties. I came to this country, like so many other immigrants, because I care deeply about two things — freedom of religion and individual liberties. And both parties are messing up when it comes to these two fundamental pillars of American life, from cheering on law enforcement spying on Muslim Americans in the wake of 9/11 to cheering on social media networks for curbing free speech. “The Turn” leads me away from both Democrats and Republicans.Douthat: Stephanie, you’re a libertarian, part of a faction that’s always been somewhat alienated from both parties, despite (usually) having a somewhat stronger connection to the right. This is not, I think it’s fair to say, a particularly libertarian moment in either coalition. What kind of Election Day outcomes are you actually rooting for?Stephanie Slade: This is tough. As someone motivated by a desire for much less government than we currently have, I’m always going to be nervous about the prospect of a Congress that’s willing to rubber-stamp the whims of a president (or vice versa). So I’m an instinctive fan of divided power. But that preference is running smack up against the almost unimaginable abhorrence I feel toward some of the Republicans who would have to win in order for the G.O.P. to retake the Senate.Douthat: Liel, as someone whose relationship to the left and the Democrats has become much more complicated in recent years, what do you see when you look at the Republican alternative?Leibovitz: Sadly, the same thing I see when I look at the Democrats. I see a party too enmeshed in very bad ideas and too interested in power rather than principle. I see a party only too happy to cheer on big government to curtail individual liberties and to let tech oligopolies govern many corners of our lives. The only point of light is how many outliers both these parties seem to be producing these days, which tells me that the left-right dichotomy is truly turning meaningless.Douthat: But political parties are always more interested in power rather than principle, right? And a lot of people look at the current landscape and say, “Sure, there are problems in both parties, but the stakes are just too high not to choose a side.” Especially among liberals, there’s a strong current of frustration with cross-pressured voters. How do you respond to people who can’t understand why you aren’t fully on their side?Slade: Those seeking power certainly want people to feel like the stakes are too high not to go along with their demands. Yes, there are militant partisans on both sides who consider it traitorous of me not to be with them 100 percent. At the same time, there’s a distinction worth keeping in mind between where party activists are and where the average Republican or Democratic voter is. Most Americans are not so wedded to their red-blue identities.Leibovitz: The most corrosive and dispiriting thing is how zero-sum our political conversation has gotten. I look at the Democratic Party and see a lot of energy I love — particularly the old Bernie Sanders spirit, before it was consumed by the apparatus. I look at the Republican Party and see people like Ted Cruz, who are very good at kicking up against some of the party’s worst ideas. There’s hope here and energy, just not if you keep on seeing this game as red versus blue.Douthat: Let me pause there, Liel. What bad ideas do you think Cruz is kicking against?Leibovitz: He represents a kind of energy that doesn’t necessarily gravitate toward the orthodoxies of giving huge corporations the freedom to do as they please. He’s rooted in an understanding of America that balks at the notion that we now have a blob of government-corporate interests dictating every aspect of our lives and that everything — from our medical system to our entertainment — is uniform.Douthat: This is a good example of the gap between how political professionals see things and how individuals see things. There’s no place for the Bernie-Cruz sympathizer in normal political typologies! But you see in polls right now not just Georgians who might back Brian Kemp for governor in Georgia and Raphael Warnock for senator but also Arizonans who might vote for Mark Kelly and Kari Lake — a stranger combination.Stephanie, what do you think about this ticket-splitting impulse?Slade: Some of this isn’t new. Political scientists and pollsters have long observed that people don’t love the idea of any one side having too much power at once. In that, I can’t blame them.Leibovitz: I agree. But it’s still so interesting to me that some of these splits seem just so outlandish, like the number of people who voted for Barack Obama in 2012 and then in 2016 for Donald Trump. That’s telling us that something truly interesting, namely that these tired labels — Democrat, Republican — don’t really mean anything anymore.Slade: We insiders always want to believe that voters are operating from a sort of consistent philosophical blueprint. But we’re seeing a lot more frustration-based voting, backlash voting. This can be fine, in the sense that there’s plenty in our world to be frustrated about, but my fear is that it can tip over into a politics thoroughly motivated by hatreds. And that is scary.Douthat: Right. For instance, in the realm of pundits, there’s an assumption that Republican candidates should be assessed based on how all-in they are for election conspiracy theories and that swing voters should recoil from the conspiracists. That seems to be happening in Pennsylvania, where the more conspiratorial Republican, Doug Mastriano, seems to be doing worse in his governor’s race than Dr. Oz is in the Senate campaign. But in Arizona, Lake is the more conspiratorial candidate, and she appears to be a stronger candidate than Blake Masters is in the Senate race.Which suggests that swing voters are often using a different compass than the political class.Leibovitz: Let me inject a very big dose of — dare I say it? — hope here. Yes, there’s a lot of hate and a lot of fear going on. But if you look at these volatile patterns you’re describing, you’re seeing something else, which is a yearning for a real vision. Voters are gravitating toward candidates who are telling them coherent stories that make sense. To the political classes, these stories sometimes sound conspiratorial or crazy or way removed from the Beltway reality. But to normal Americans, they resonate.Douthat: Or, Stephanie, are they just swinging back and forth based on the price of gas, and all larger narratives are pundit impositions on more basic pocketbook impulses?Slade: Yeah, I’m a little more split on this. Economic fundamentals matter a lot, as do structural factors (like that the president’s party usually does poorly in midterms, irrespective of everything else).Douthat: But then do you, as an unusually well-informed, cross-pressured American, feel electing Republicans in the House or Senate will help with the economic situation, with inflation?Slade: It’s a debate among libertarians whether divided government is actually a good thing. Or is the one thing the two parties can agree on that they should spend ever more money? I don’t have a ton of hope that a Republican-controlled House or Senate will do much good. On the other hand, the sheer economic insanity of the Biden years — amounting to approving more than $4 trillion of new borrowing, to say nothing of the unconstitutional eviction moratorium and student loan forgiveness — is mind-boggling to me, so almost anything that could put the brakes on some of this stuff seems worth trying.Douthat: Spoken like a swing voter. Liel, you aren’t a libertarian, but your particular profile — Jewish immigrant writer put off by progressive extremism — does resemble an earlier cross-pressured group, the original 1970s neoconservatives. Over time, a lot of neoconservatives ended up comfortably on the right (at least until recently) because they felt welcomed by the optimism of Ronald Reagan’s presidency.Do you think that the toxic side of the G.O.P. is a permanent obstacle to completing a similar move rightward for people alienated by progressivism?Leibovitz: Not to get too biblical, but I view Trump less as a person and more as a plague, a reminder from above to mend our ways, or else. And many voters mortified by the sharp left turn of the Democratic Party are feeling, like me, politically homeless right now.But politically homeless is not politically hopeless. The way out for us isn’t by focusing on which of these two broken homes is better but on which ideas we still hold dear. And here I agree with Stephanie. Stopping the economic insanity — from rampant spending to stopping oil production and driving up gas prices to giving giant corporations a free pass — is key. So is curbing the notion that it’s OK to believe that the government can decide that some categories, like race or gender or sexual orientation, make a person a member of a protected class and that it’s OK for the government to adjudicate which of these classes is more worthy of protection.Douthat: Let’s end by getting specific. Irrespective of party, is there a candidate on the ballot this fall who you are especially eager to see win and one that you are especially eager to see lose?Leibovitz: I’m a New Yorker, so anyone who helped turn this state — and my beloved hometown — into the teetering mess it is right now deserves to go. Lee Zeldin seems like the sort of out-of-left-field candidate who can be transformative, especially considering the tremendous damage done by the progressives in the state.Douthat: OK, you’ve given me a Republican candidate you want to see win, is there one you’d like to see fail?Leibovitz: I know Pennsylvania is a very important battleground state, and the Democrats have put forth a person who appears ill equipped for this responsibility, but it’s very, very hard to take a Dr. Oz candidacy seriously.Slade: I spend a lot of my time following the rising illiberal conservative movement, variously known as national conservatives, postliberals, the New Right and so on. What distinguishes them is their desire not just to acquire government power but to wield it to destroy their enemies. That goes against everything I believe and everything I believe America stands for. The person running for office right now who seems most representative of that view is J.D. Vance, who once told a reporter that “our people hate the right people.” I would like to see that sentiment lose soundly in November, wherever it’s on the ballot. (Not that I’m saying I think it actually will lose in Ohio.)Douthat: No predictions here, just preferences. Is there someone you really want to win?Slade: Like a good libertarian, can I say I wish they could all lose?Douthat: Not really, because my last question bestows on both of you a very unlibertarian power. You are each the only swing voter in America, and you get to choose the world of 2023: a Democratic-controlled Congress, a Republican-controlled Congress or the wild card, Republicans taking one house but not the other. How do you use this power?Leibovitz: Mets fan here, so wild card is an apt metaphor: Take the split, watch them both lose in comical and heartbreaking ways and pray for a better team next election.Slade: If forced to decide, I’d split the baby, then split the baby again: Republicans take the House, Democrats hold the Senate.Douthat: A Solomonic conclusion, indeed. Thanks so much to you both.Ross Douthat is a Times columnist. Liel Leibovitz is an editor at large for Tablet magazine and a host of its weekly culture podcast, “Unorthodox,” and daily Talmud podcast, “Take One.” Stephanie Slade (@sladesr) is a senior editor at Reason magazine.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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      5 Takeaways From Vance and Ryan’s Final Ohio Senate Debate

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      Representative Tim Ryan of Ohio, a Democrat, and J.D. Vance, a Republican, clashed bitterly over issues of ideology and fitness for office in their final debate in the state’s marquee Senate race, as Mr. Ryan painted his opponent as extreme, and Mr. Vance lashed Mr. Ryan as ineffective and more liberal than he lets on.The contest in a state that former President Donald J. Trump comfortably won twice has remained more competitive than national observers initially expected with Mr. Ryan, a strong fund-raiser, casting himself as an independent voice. Still, he has an uphill climb, and he has not had much assistance so far from national Democrats.Here are five takeaways from their heated hourlong debate in Youngstown, Ohio:A strikingly contentious and sometimes personal hour.The debate crackled with condescension as the two men sparred, reflecting the close nature of the race. At times they referred to each other as “pal,” “our guy” or “buddy.” Mr. Ryan even accused his opponent, in two languages, of being a fraud.“J.D. Vance, all due respect, is a fraud,” Mr. Ryan said as they discussed immigration. Then he invoked a saying from his “little Italian grandmother” that he said translated into, “‘You have two faces.’ One for the camera, and one for your business dealings.”Mr. Vance, for his part, argued that Mr. Ryan was only masquerading as a moderate, and that, for all of his years in government, he had not delivered.J.D. Vance supporters gathered in Youngstown before the Senate debate on Monday.Gaelen Morse for The New York TimesEach man tried to saddle the other with the problems of their national parties.Mr. Vance sought to paint Mr. Ryan as a generic Democrat closely tied to President Biden as well as House Speaker Nancy Pelosi — whom, Mr. Ryan noted, he once challenged for a leadership role.The State of the 2022 Midterm ElectionsWith the primaries over, both parties are shifting their focus to the general election on Nov. 8.The Final Stretch: With elections next month, a Times/Siena poll shows that independents, especially women, are swinging toward the G.O.P. despite Democrats’ focus on abortion rights as voters worry about the economy.Questioning 2020: Hundreds of Republicans on the ballot this November have cast doubt on the 2020 election, a Times analysis found. Many of these candidates are favored to win their races.Georgia Senate Race: The contest, which could determine whether Democrats keep control of the Senate, has become increasingly focused on the private life and alleged hypocrisy of Herschel Walker, the Republican nominee.Jill Biden: The first lady, who has become a lifeline for Democratic candidates trying to draw attention and money in the midterms, is the most popular surrogate in the Biden administration.“You can’t run from the policies that she supported, that she has shoved down the throat of the people in Ohio,” Mr. Vance said.Mr. Ryan declared, “If you want to run against Nancy Pelosi, move back to San Francisco and run against Nancy Pelosi,” alluding to Mr. Vance’s time there as a venture capitalist.Mr. Ryan, for his part, sought to tie Mr. Vance to the far-right congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene, who has campaigned with Mr. Vance. And he looked for ways to highlight his independence from his party, saying, for instance, that “I disagree with President Biden when he’s talking about relaxing some of the regulations down on the border, completely disagree with that.”He also sharply criticized Mr. Vance’s evolution in supporting Mr. Trump. “You were calling Trump America’s Hitler,” he said, adding later that “then he endorsed you and you said he’s the greatest president of all time.”Mr. Vance disputed the characterization. When he was pressed to name an area of disagreement with Mr. Trump, he expressed concerns with some of the more hawkish members of the administration.“The thing that was wrong about the Trump administration is they put a lot of people in the administration, a lot of bad personnel folks, who actually advocated limitless nonstop wars,” he said.A supporter of Mr. Ryan before the debate.Gaelen Morse for The New York TimesA fight over what it means to be extreme on abortion.Ohio became the center of a debate over abortion rights earlier this year when a 10-year-old girl who had been raped traveled across state lines to receive an abortion because of Ohio’s ban on the procedure in many instances. The issue was a flash point in the debate.“J.D. and his extreme crew, they want to have a national abortion ban,” Mr. Ryan said as he pushed for codifying Roe v. Wade, which the Supreme Court overturned in June. “They’re not happy with people having to go to Illinois. They want people to get a passport and have to go to Canada. Largest governmental overreach in the history of our lifetime.”It was language reminiscent of the privacy-focused message used in Kansas by defenders of abortion rights ahead of a ballot measure on the issue this summer.Mr. Vance has said the 10-year-old should have been able to get an abortion and tried to cast Mr. Ryan as being extreme in his support for abortion rights. He also tried to change the subject by noting that the man who was arrested and charged in the Ohio case was an undocumented immigrant. A spokesman for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement previously confirmed his undocumented status.Mr. Vance, in an extraordinary leap, tried to pin the blame for the attack on Mr. Ryan: “She would never have been raped in the first place if Tim Ryan had done his job on border security.”Mr. Vance spoke supportively of Senator Lindsey Graham’s proposed 15-week national abortion ban, but like many Republicans, was reluctant to discuss specifics on abortion exceptions he supported, saying that, for example, while many support exceptions in instances of incest, “an incest exception looks different at three weeks of pregnancy versus 39 weeks of pregnancy.”A question about “great replacement theory” led to the most raw exchange of the night.The candidates were asked about a racist conspiracy theory that concerns the notion of white people being replaced by nonwhite people and has helped inspire mass shootings across the country.Replacement theory has crept into right-wing media, most notably Tucker Carlson’s show on Fox News, where Mr. Vance has been a favorite guest. Mr. Ryan lashed Mr. Vance for spending time with lawmakers who “stoke this racial violence” as he described the role the theory played in the Buffalo mass shooting.“You are so desperate for political power that you’ll accuse me, the father of three beautiful biracial babies, of engaging in racism,” shot back Mr. Vance, who added that he is “married to the daughter of South Asian immigrants.”He has warned of an “invasion” from immigrants, and in a campaign ad, suggested loose border policies ensured “more Democrat voters pouring into this country.” But he said on Monday that the issue was not “about whites or nonwhites,” but that he was concerned about illegal immigration. “You can believe in a border without being a racist,” he said.“I would never talk about your family, J.D.,” Mr. Ryan said. “You don’t want to talk about the fact that you’re with the extremists in that belief.”“That’s disgusting and I’ve never endorsed it,” Mr. Vance insisted.Senator Rob Portman was the most popular person onstage.Mr. Vance and Mr. Ryan are vying to replace Mr. Portman, the center-right Ohio Republican who is retiring — and while he has endorsed Mr. Vance, both invoked him repeatedly.For Mr. Ryan, doing so signals his interest in bipartisanship. For Mr. Vance, who won the primary with strength from the right, it is a nod to the mainstream.Mr. Vance repeatedly invoked the endorsement. Mr. Ryan noted times when they have collaborated.“I’m not quite sure why Rob Portman endorsed you,” Mr. Ryan said at one point. “You don’t agree with any of the compromises that he’s been able to make in the last year.”Trip Gabriel More

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      In Midterm TV Ad Wars, Sticker Shock Costs Republicans

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      Football fans in Las Vegas tuning into the Raiders game on Oct. 2 had to sit through multiple political ads, including one from Nevada’s endangered Democratic senator and another from a Republican super PAC trying to defeat her.The ads were each 30 seconds — but the costs were wildly different.The Democratic senator, Catherine Cortez Masto, paid $21,000. The Republican super PAC paid $150,000.That $129,000 disparity for a single ad — an extra $4,300 per second — is one sizable example of how Republican super PACs are paying a steep premium to compete on the airwaves with Democratic candidates, a trend that is playing out nationwide with cascading financial consequences for the House and Senate battlefield. Hour after hour in state after state, Republicans are paying double, triple, quadruple and sometimes even 10 times more than Democrats for ads on the exact same programs.One reason is legal and beyond Republicans’ control. But the other is linked to the weak fund-raising of Republican candidates this year and the party’s heavy dependence on billionaire-funded super PACs.Political candidates are protected under a federal law that allows them to pay the lowest price available for broadcast ads. Super PACs have no such protections, and Republicans have been more reliant on super PACs this year because their candidates have had trouble fund-raising. So Democrats have been the ones chiefly benefiting from the mandated low pricing, and Republicans in many top races have been at the mercy of the exorbitant rates charged by television stations as the election nears.The issue may seem arcane. But strategists in both parties say it has become hugely consequential in midterm elections that will determine which party controls Congress.From Labor Day through early this week, Senate Republican super PACs and campaigns spent more than their opponents on the airwaves in key races in Georgia, Nevada, Pennsylvania, North Carolina and New Hampshire, according to data from the media-tracking firm AdImpact. But when measured in rating points — a metric of how many people saw the ads — the Democratic ads were seen more times in each of those states, according to two Democratic officials tracking media purchases.In other words, Democrats got more for less.“One of the challenges we face in taking back the House is the eye-popping differences between what Democrat incumbents and Republican challengers are raising — and what that affords them in terms of different advertising rates,” said Dan Conston, who heads the Congressional Leadership Fund, a super PAC aligned with House Republican leadership that has raised $220 million and is one of the nation’s biggest television spenders.The price differences can be jarring.In Ohio, Representative Tim Ryan, the Democratic Senate candidate, paid $650 for a recent ad on the 6 a.m. newscast of the local Fox affiliate. The leading Republican super PAC paid $2,400.In Nevada, Ms. Cortez Masto paid $720 for an ad on CBS’s Sunday news show. Another Republican super PAC, the Club for Growth, paid $12,000.The State of the 2022 Midterm ElectionsWith the primaries over, both parties are shifting their focus to the general election on Nov. 8.The Final Stretch: With less than one month until Election Day, Republicans remain favored to take over the House, but momentum in the pitched battle for the Senate has seesawed back and forth.A Surprising Battleground: New York has emerged from a haywire redistricting cycle as perhaps the most consequential congressional battleground in the country. For Democrats, the uncertainty is particularly jarring.Pennsylvania Governor’s Race: Attacks by Doug Mastriano, the G.O.P. nominee, on the Jewish school where Josh Shapiro, the Democratic candidate, sends his children have set off an outcry about antisemitic signaling.Herschel Walker: The Republican Senate nominee in Georgia reportedly paid for an ex-girlfriend’s abortion, but some conservative Christians have learned to tolerate the behavior of those who advance their cause.And in Arizona, Senator Mark Kelly has been paying $2,000 per spot on the evening news on the ABC affiliate. A Republican super PAC is paying $5,000.An analysis by The New York Times of Federal Communications Commission records, along with interviews with media buyers in both parties, shows just how much the different prices that candidates and super PACs pay is influencing the 2022 midterm landscape.“What matters at the end of the day is what number of people see an ad, which isn’t measured in dollars,” said Tim Cameron, a Republican strategist and media buyer, referring to the rating-points metric.The partisan split between advertising purchased by candidates versus super PACs is vast.In Senate races, Democratic candidates have reserved or spent nearly $170 million more than Republican candidates in the general election on television, radio and digital ads, according to AdImpact.The price that super PACs pay is driven by supply and demand, and television stations charge Republicans and Democrats the same prices when they book at the same time. So Democrats have super PACs that pay higher rates, too. But the party is less reliant on them. Republicans have a nearly $95 million spending edge over Democrats among super PACs and other outside groups involved in Senate races, according to AdImpact. That money just doesn’t go nearly as far.Several candidates who were weak at raising funds won Republican nominations in key Senate races, including in New Hampshire, Arizona and Ohio, and that has hobbled the party.“We’re working hard to make up the gap where we can,” said Steven Law, the head of the leading Senate Republican super PAC, the Senate Leadership Fund.But Democrats — buoyed by robust donations through ActBlue, the Democratic online donation-processing platform — are announcing eye-popping money hauls ahead of Saturday’s third-quarter filing deadline that are helping them press their advantage. Senator Raphael Warnock of Georgia raised $26.3 million. In Pennsylvania, Lt. Gov. John Fetterman, the Senate nominee, raised $22 million. Mr. Ryan raised $17.2 million. Ms. Cortez Masto raised $15 million.“It’s a simple fact that candidates pay lower rates than outside groups, which means Democrats’ ActBlue cash tsunami could wipe out an underfunded Republican,” Mr. Law said.Republicans are hardly cash-poor. The Senate Leadership Fund alone has reserved more than $170 million in ads since Labor Day and raised more than $1 million per day in the third quarter. But the ad rates are eroding that money’s buying power.In the top nine Senate battlegrounds that drew significant outside spending, Republicans spent about 6.66 percent more on ads than Democrats from Labor Day through earlier this week, according to one of the Democratic officials tracking the media buys. But the Democratic money had gone further when measured by rating points, outpacing Republican ad viewership by 8 percent.In Nevada, for instance, the super PAC that paid $150,000 for the single commercial on Oct. 2, Our American Century, has been funded chiefly by a $10 million contribution by Steve Wynn, the casino magnate. Yet for a comparable price of $161,205, Ms. Cortez Masto was able to air 79 ads that week on the same station: daily spots each on the local news, daytime soap operas, “Jeopardy!” and “Wheel of Fortune” as well as in prime time — plus the Oct. 2 football ad, Federal Communications Commission records show.Las Vegas is perhaps the most congested market for political ads in the nation, with multiple contested House races, a swing Senate contest and a tight governor’s election, and some ballot measures. Both Democratic and Republican media-buying sources said the rates for super PACs had been up to 10 times that of candidates in some recent weeks.In a recent one-week period, Ms. Cortez Masto spent $197,225 on 152 spots on the local Fox station, an average price of $1,300 per 30 seconds. The Club for Growth Action, a Republican super PAC, spent $473,000 for only 52 spots — an average price of nearly $9,100 per 30 seconds.Republicans feel they have no choice but to pony up.“Republicans are facing a hard-money deficit, and it’s up to groups like Club for Growth Action to help make up the difference in these key races,” said David McIntosh, the president of the Club for Growth.Some strategists have privately pressed super PACs to invest more heavily in digital advertising, where candidate rates are not protected. Super PACs pay similar amounts and sometimes can even negotiate discounts because of their volume of ads. But old habits, and the continued influence of television on voters, means much of the funds are still going to broadcast.“Super PACs have one charter: to win races. And so they spend there because they have to,” said Evan Tracey, a Republican media buyer. “They’re not running a business in the sense that shareholders are going to be outraged that they have to spend more for the same asset. It’s a cost of doing business.”The National Republican Senatorial Committee, which has faced financial problems this year, cut millions of its reserved television “independent expenditures,” which are booked at the same rate as super PACs. Instead, in a creative and penny-pinching move, the committee rebooked some of that money in concert with Senate campaigns, splitting costs through a complex mechanism that limits what the ads can say — candidates can be mentioned during only half the airtime — but receives the better, candidate ad rates.Still, in Arizona, some of the canceled reservations from top Republican groups have further exacerbated the ad-rate disparity in the Senate race. That is because the party gave back early reservations only to have other super PACs step in — and pay even more.For instance, the Senate committee originally had reserved two ads for that Oct. 2 football game for $30,000 each and the Senate Leadership Fund had reserved another for $30,000. All three were canceled.Instead, a new Republican super PAC, the Sentinel Action Fund, booked two ads during the same game but had to pay $100,000 because rates had risen — forking over $10,000 more for one fewer ad.Data from one Republican media-buying firm showed that in Arizona, ads supporting Mr. Kelly, the Democrat, amounted to 84 percent of what viewers saw even though the pro-Kelly side accounted for only 74 percent of the dollars spent.The Sentinel Action Fund was paying $1,775 per rating point — a measurement of viewership — while Mr. Kelly’s campaign was spending around $300 per point, according to the Republican data. Blake Masters, Mr. Kelly’s Republican opponent, was receiving a price close to Mr. Kelly’s but could afford only a tiny fraction of the ad budget (around $411,000, compared with Mr. Kelly’s $3.3 million for a recent two-week period).“The disparity between Democratic campaigns’ strong fund-raising and Republican campaigns’ weak fund-raising is forcing the G.O.P. super PACs to make difficult decisions even though there continues to be a deluge of outside money on their side,” said David Bergstein, the communications director for the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee.In Ohio, the Senate Leadership Fund announced in August that it was making a $28 million television and radio reservation to prop up J.D. Vance, the best-selling author and first-time Republican candidate who emerged from the primary with a limited fund-raising apparatus.But despite outspending the Democratic candidate in dollars — the super PAC paid $3 million last week for ads, compared with Mr. Ryan’s nearly $1.5 million — Republicans were still at a disadvantage: Mr. Ryan’s campaign was sometimes getting more airtime, according to media buyers and F.C.C. records.The Republican super PAC was paying four or five times more than Mr. Ryan for ads on the same shows. And the sticker shock on big sports events is the most intense: On WJW, the Fox affiliate in Cleveland, last week’s Big Ten college football game cost Mr. Ryan $3,000 — and $30,000 for the Senate Leadership Fund. More

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      Six Takeaways From the Vance-Ryan Debate for Senate in Ohio

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      In a sometimes heated, often personal debate, the two candidates vying for the seat of the retiring Senator Rob Portman — Representative Tim Ryan and the investor J.D. Vance — each took turns accusing the other of being elite and out of touch, while claiming the mantle of working-class defender.Here are six takeaways from the one and only Ohio Senate debate.Extremism vs. the economyMr. Ryan, the Democrat, had the difficult task of tarring Mr. Vance, the Republican, as a “MAGA extremist” without alienating supporters of Donald J. Trump in a state where Mr. Trump remains popular and which he won twice. He did so by saying Mr. Vance is “running around with the election deniers, the extremists,” like Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, and supporting some of the rioters who attacked the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.But in a state that has for decades worried about the economy and the loss of manufacturing jobs, Mr. Vance had a ready pivot: “I find it interesting how preoccupied you are with this at a time when people can’t afford groceries,” he told his opponent.China, China, ChinaMr. Ryan set the tone of his underdog campaign from the start with an advertisement attacking China, and he didn’t let up in the debate. He repeatedly accused Mr. Vance of investing in companies that did business with China or shipped jobs there. Mr. Vance taunted him with “name one.”China even muddied what had been a clear foreign policy debate. Mr. Vance stuck to the “America First” position of his benefactor, Mr. Trump, when it came to Ukraine, saying Democrats were “sleepwalking into a nuclear war.” But asked about defending Taiwan against a hypothetical Chinese attack, he shifted. “Taiwan is a much different situation than Russia and Ukraine,” Mr. Vance said.The State of the 2022 Midterm ElectionsWith the primaries over, both parties are shifting their focus to the general election on Nov. 8.The Final Stretch: With less than one month until Election Day, Republicans remain favored to take over the House, but momentum in the pitched battle for the Senate has seesawed back and forth.Herschel Walker: A woman who said that the G.O.P. Senate nominee in Georgia paid for her abortion in 2009 told The Times that he urged her to terminate a second pregnancy two years later. She chose to have their son instead.Will the Walker Allegations Matter?: The scandal could be decisive largely because of the circumstances in Georgia, writes Nate Cohn, The Times’s chief political analyst.Pennsylvania Senate Race: John Fetterman, the Democratic nominee, says he can win over working-class voters in deep-red counties. But as polls tighten in the contest, that theory is under strain.Change vs. serviceMr. Vance tried to present himself as an agent of change who would shake things up in Washington, accusing Mr. Ryan of being a career politician who accomplished little during his many years in the House. Embracing term limits, he said Mr. Ryan’s native northeast Ohio would have been better off if its congressman had left Washington a while ago and gotten a job in Youngstown.That riled Mr. Ryan, who spoke about his family’s history of service through its Catholic church — including running the “beer tent” at church events. “I’m not going to apologize for spending 20 years slogging away to try to help one of the hardest economically hit regions of Ohio,” he said. Adding that Mr. Vance should be ashamed of himself, he snapped, “You went off to California drinking wine and eating cheese.”Mr. Vance, putting himself forward as a young, savvy businessman more than as an acolyte of Mr. Trump, said he admires service. “What I don’t admire,” he said, “is the failure of accomplishment.”Crime and policingThe candidates struck a rare note of bipartisan accord on the need for local police departments to hire more officers, with Mr. Ryan boasting of delivering $500 million in federal funds for Ohio police through a pandemic relief bill. But then the debate took a nasty swerve. Mr. Ryan accused Mr. Vance of encouraging donations to Jan. 6 rioters who injured some 140 officers in the siege of the Capitol, warning his opponent, “Don’t even try to deny it.”“We’ve got your Twitter posts and everything else,” Mr. Ryan said. “He’s raising money for the insurrectionists who were beating up the Capitol Police.”Mr. Vance did not respond to the charge. Instead, he attacked Mr. Ryan for comments he made during civil disturbances in American cities after the police murder of George Floyd in 2020.“Tim Ryan threw the police under the bus,” Mr. Vance said. “He attacked them as the new Jim Crow, as systemically racist, and he voted for legislation that would have stripped funding from them and redirected it toward litigation defense.”Separating from the partyThe Democrats may be trying to label Republicans allied with Mr. Trump as extremists, but it was Mr. Ryan, not Mr. Vance, who was looking for distance from his party leadership. He reiterated his view that President Biden should not run for re-election, and instead should give way to “generational change.” He called Vice President Kamala Harris “absolutely wrong” for saying the southern border is secure. And he insisted he had been a pain in Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s rear end.“I’m not here to toe the party line,” he said, mocking Mr. Vance for slavishly standing by Mr. Trump even when the former president said that the candidate must grovel to him, while using coarser language.A game changer? Not likely.The Senate campaign has been spirited and may be close, which is remarkable considering the Republican bent of the state and the commanding lead that its Republican governor, Mike DeWine, has in his quest for re-election. But Mr. Ryan has a tall order: He must persuade hundreds of thousands of Republican voters to cast their ballots for a Democrat in a year when the Democratic president is unpopular and the economy is faltering.Mr. Vance, after a heated primary season, has been accused of coasting through the summer, and he entered the debate with low expectations. But he knew the bar was low for him to prove himself palatable enough to ride Mr. DeWine’s coattails and the broader political winds. He most likely did that. More

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      J.D. Vance’s First Attempt to Renew Ohio Crumbled Quickly

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      In 2017, the Republican candidate for Senate started a nonprofit group to tackle the social ills he had written about in his “Hillbilly Elegy” memoir. It fell apart within two years.J.D. Vance was not running for office. He said it irked him when people assumed that. Instead, in 2017, he said he had come back to Ohio to start a nonprofit organization.Mr. Vance gave that organization a lofty name — Our Ohio Renewal — and an even loftier mission: to “make it easier for disadvantaged children to achieve their dreams.” He said it would dispense with empty talk and get to work fighting Ohio’s toughest problems: opioids, joblessness and broken families.“I actually care about solving some of these things,” Mr. Vance said.Within two years, it had fizzled.Mr. Vance’s nonprofit group raised only about $220,000, hired only a handful of staff members, shrank drastically in 2018 and died for good in 2021. It left only the faintest mark on the state it had been meant to change, leaving behind a pair of op-eds and two tweets. (Mr. Vance also started a sister charity, which paid for a psychiatrist to spend a year in a small-town Ohio clinic. Then it shuttered, too.)Mr. Vance is now the Republican nominee for Senate in Ohio, running on a promise to tackle some of the same issues his defunct organization was supposed to have. On the campaign trail, he has said his group stalled because a key staff member was diagnosed with cancer.“I saw that Ohio lacked a focused effort on solving the opioid crisis, even while so many Ohioans’ lives were devastated by addiction, my own family and mother included,” Mr. Vance said in a written statement. “While the group only ended up lasting for a short period of time, I’m proud of the work we did.”But some of the nonprofit group’s own workers said they had drawn a different conclusion: They had been lured by the promise of helping Ohio, but instead had been used to help Mr. Vance start his career in politics.During its brief life, Mr. Vance’s organization paid a political consultant who also advised Mr. Vance about entering the 2018 Senate race. It paid an assistant who helped schedule Mr. Vance’s political speeches. And it paid for a survey of “Ohio citizens” that several of the staff members said they had never seen.The collapse of Mr. Vance’s nonprofit group was first reported last year in Insider. Now, Ohio Democrats use the group as an attack line. “J.D. Vance was in a position to really help people, but he only helped himself,” says an ad created by Mr. Vance’s opponent, Rep. Tim Ryan.The New York Times examined federal and state records and talked to most of the people connected to the tiny nonprofit organization. That included 10 people who served as employees, board members or outside advisers for Our Ohio Renewal.The State of the 2022 Midterm ElectionsWith the primaries over, both parties are shifting their focus to the general election on Nov. 8.Standing by Herschel Walker: After a report that the G.O.P. Senate candidate in Georgia paid for a girlfriend’s abortion in 2009, Republicans rallied behind him, fearing that a break with the former football star could hurt the party’s chances to take the Senate.Wisconsin Senate Race: Mandela Barnes, the Democratic candidate, is wobbling in his contest against Senator Ron Johnson, the Republican incumbent, as an onslaught of G.O.P. attack ads takes a toll.G.O.P. Senate Gains: After signs emerged that Republicans were making gains in the race for the Senate, the polling shift is now clear, writes Nate Cohn, The Times’s chief political analyst.Democrats’ Closing Argument: Buoyed by polls that show the end of Roe v. Wade has moved independent voters their way, vulnerable House Democrats have reoriented their campaigns around abortion rights in the final weeks before the election.Mr. Vance started his group in November 2016, on the day after Donald J. Trump had won the presidency. At the time, Mr. Vance’s “Hillbilly Elegy,” about his troubled childhood in Ohio, was a surprise best seller. After Yale Law School and two years in Silicon Valley, Mr. Vance was returning to Ohio.A prayer in Norwalk, Ohio, in 2017 honoring those lost to opioid overdoses. Spencer Platt/Getty ImagesHe said his nonprofit group would seek to fix some of the social problems that he had described in his book.“I felt, you know, frankly a little bit of responsibility — now that I’ve been given this platform by the success of the book — to go and try to do at least a little something to help out,” Mr. Vance said in late 2016.His group was set up as a “social welfare organization” — called a 501(c)(4), after the relevant section of the federal tax code — that is allowed to do more political advocacy than a traditional charity. Politicians often treat these groups as a kind of incubator for their next campaigns, using them to attract donors, pay staff members and test out messages in between elections.Mr. Vance said his organization was not that. It was focused on something bigger. In its application for tax-exempt status, his group told the Internal Revenue Service it planned to increase its fund-raising to $500,000 a year by 2018 and to more than double its spending on personnel.In his statement to The Times, Mr. Vance said he had donated $80,000 of his own money to the nonprofit group, which was about a third of the $221,000 that it reported having raised over its lifetime. He declined to identify the group’s other donors.Mr. Vance said he did not take a salary. He did not have a formal leadership role but called himself “honorary chairman.”.css-1v2n82w{max-width:600px;width:calc(100% – 40px);margin-top:20px;margin-bottom:25px;height:auto;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;font-family:nyt-franklin;color:var(–color-content-secondary,#363636);}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-1v2n82w{margin-left:20px;margin-right:20px;}}@media only screen and (min-width:1024px){.css-1v2n82w{width:600px;}}.css-161d8zr{width:40px;margin-bottom:18px;text-align:left;margin-left:0;color:var(–color-content-primary,#121212);border:1px solid var(–color-content-primary,#121212);}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-161d8zr{width:30px;margin-bottom:15px;}}.css-tjtq43{line-height:25px;}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-tjtq43{line-height:24px;}}.css-x1k33h{font-family:nyt-cheltenham;font-size:19px;font-weight:700;line-height:25px;}.css-ok2gjs{font-size:17px;font-weight:300;line-height:25px;}.css-ok2gjs a{font-weight:500;color:var(–color-content-secondary,#363636);}.css-1c013uz{margin-top:18px;margin-bottom:22px;}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-1c013uz{font-size:14px;margin-top:15px;margin-bottom:20px;}}.css-1c013uz a{color:var(–color-signal-editorial,#326891);-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;font-weight:500;font-size:16px;}@media only screen and (max-width:480px){.css-1c013uz a{font-size:13px;}}.css-1c013uz a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}How Times reporters cover politics. We rely on our journalists to be independent observers. So while Times staff members may vote, they are not allowed to endorse or campaign for candidates or political causes. This includes participating in marches or rallies in support of a movement or giving money to, or raising money for, any political candidate or election cause.Learn more about our process.“I won’t promise anything for now, besides this: I will work hard to find solutions to the opioid and joblessness problems, and when we identify workable solutions, we’ll do something about them,” he wrote to members of his advisory board in 2017. He signed off, “Looking forward to doing some good, JD.”Mr. Vance wanted to help grandparents, like his, who stepped in to raise children when parents were absent or unable. The task of figuring out how to do so fell to Jamil Jivani, a friend of Vance’s from Yale Law School who had been hired as the group’s director of law and policy. Mr. Jivani and two researchers paid by Ohio State University — where Mr. Vance was a “scholar in residence” in the political science department — spent months researching family law, looking for policies that could be changed.At the time, Mr. Vance was traveling for speeches, working for an investment firm and splitting his time between Ohio and Washington, where his wife and young son lived. Mr. Vance was largely absent from the nonprofit group’s offices, according to an employee at the organization, who asked not to be identified while describing the group’s inner workings. The person often studied in Mr. Vance’s spacious and frequently empty office on campus. “It was very quiet,” the person said.Another person who worked for the nonprofit group said that, in hindsight, it had seemed aimed at serving Mr. Vance’s ambition by giving him a presence in a state where he had not lived full-time for several years. The person said it had felt as if much of the job involved giving outsiders the impression that Mr. Vance was in the state, said the person, who asked not to be identified for fear of antagonizing Mr. Vance and his supporters.In November 2017, the group’s research produced a result: an op-ed in The Cleveland Plain Dealer. In that piece, Mr. Vance urged the Ohio Legislature to adopt a bill that would help “kinship caregivers” like his grandparents.Mr. Vance’s group did not make much of an impact in the effort to pass the bill, said former State Representative Jeff Rezabek, a Republican who sponsored it. The legislation stalled that year, although similar legislation eventually passed later, after Mr. Vance’s group had become largely inactive.At the same time, in 2017 and early 2018, Mr. Vance was gradually starting to do the thing that he had said he wouldn’t: politics. He spoke at G.O.P. Lincoln Day dinners around Ohio. He publicly flirted with running for the Senate as a Republican in 2018 — even, reportedly, commissioning a poll to see if his attacks on Trump would hold him back.“J.D. is giving serious consideration toward this, because there are very serious people asking him to run,” Mr. Vance’s political adviser, Jai Chabria, told CNN in early 2018.Mr. Chabria’s firm Mercury L.L.C. was paid $63,425 by Our Ohio Renewal for “management services” in 2017. Although the group listed him in official documents as its executive director, Mr. Chabria says, he was only a consultant for the nonprofit. Mr. Jivani, the director of law and policy, actually ran the group.“Someone needed to get the paperwork started to launch it, but I was never tasked with running the day-to-day operations of the organization,” Mr. Chabria wrote in an email to The Times.He said the nonprofit group had never paid him to advise Mr. Vance personally during that time. He did that for free.Our Ohio Renewal also paid a salary to Mr. Vance’s personal assistant, who scheduled Mr. Vance’s appearances at events including Republican gatherings. Mr. Chabria defended that practice, saying that Mr. Vance had often mentioned Our Ohio Renewal at those talks.The assistant managed Mr. Vance’s calendar because he was a “central part” of the organization, Mr. Chabria wrote in an email, adding that Mr. Vance “was making regular public appearances in the media and at events to promote the activities of the group.”Tax-law experts said that was most likely permissible, given the looser rules around this type of nonprofit group.Also in 2017, Our Ohio Renewal said in annual filings that it had paid an unnamed pollster $45,000 for a survey “on social, cultural and general welfare needs of Ohio citizens.”That survey was one of the most expensive things Our Ohio Renewal ever paid for. But several employees said they had never seen it. “I don’t have any recollection of a survey and don’t have a copy of one,” Jennifer Best, who was both the group’s accountant and the treasurer of its board, said in an email message.Mr. Chabria saw the survey, but he said he no longer had a copy to share. He said it had tested messages about Our Ohio Renewal’s work and “did not ask questions on any potential candidacy” by Mr. Vance himself.In February 2018, Mr. Jivani — the director of law and policy who ran Our Ohio Renewal day to day — was diagnosed with cancer.Jamil Jivani at his family’s home in Toronto in 2018 after his cancer diagnosis.Andrew Francis Wallace/Toronto Star via Getty ImagesAfter that, Our Ohio Renewal seemed to freeze.It stopped tweeting. Its website trumpeted the same “Latest News” — a story from January 2018 — for nearly two years and then shut off, according to archived versions of the page (Ohio Democrats have taken over the group’s old domain and are using it to mock Mr. Vance). The group’s financial activity slowed sharply, and its bank account ran down to zero, according to Ms. Best, the treasurer.Finally, she told the Internal Revenue Service that the group was finished at the end of 2020.Mr. Jivani, whose cancer is now in remission, blames the group’s demise on his own bad luck.“As much as I wanted to, I could not take care of the day-to-day needs of this organization to help it scale,” he said.Mr. Vance did not respond to questions about why he had let the organization collapse after Mr. Jivani’s diagnosis.Now, Mr. Vance is in a tight Senate race, with Mr. Chabria as his chief strategist. In his most recent financial disclosures, Mr. Vance listed himself as “honorary chairman” of Our Ohio Renewal, even though it no longer existed. Under the time frame, he wrote, “Jan 2017 to present.” More