Why she lost

Despite a platform focused on winning back the working class, Kamala Harris and her party had lost too many of them already

Lina Jaradat

Why she lost

The postmortems about US Vice President Kamala Harris’s loss to Donald Trump in the 2024 US presidential election will go on for a long time. Many books will be written, pundits’ reputations made and unmade, and academic careers launched as the polling data behind this baffling, unprecedented election are pored over for years to come. But as a first rough draft of history, there are a few ominous road markers that stand out.

After a remarkable start to her campaign, Harris failed to close the deal rhetorically. In an unfortunate echo of Hillary Clinton’s loss in 2016, Harris spent far too much time trying to argue that Trump was unfit for the presidency and too little time delivering a coherent message about why she would be better.

Despite overpowering Trump in their only debate on 10 September and raising more than $1bn in donations in just three months—a new record—Harris often floundered when challenged to deliver a convincing summary of her agenda on critical issues such as the economy and immigration. She also fumbled badly in explaining her flip-flops on issues such as fracking (which she once opposed and later supported, but without pointing out the simple fact that improved technology had made it environmentally safer). That led Wall Street Journal commentator Peggy Noonan to label Harris an “artless dodger.”

And, in the end, Harris failed to find a politically agile way of distancing herself from her unpopular boss, US President Joe Biden.

In an interview with Politico in the final weeks before the election, Trump campaign manager Jason Miller put his finger on what he called the turning point of the race. This came after weeks of polling in Harris’ favour following her abrupt—and, by some accounts, undemocratic—emergence at the top of the ticket on 21 July. Miller said it was Harris’ botched answer to an easy question from a friendly TV anchor, Sunny Hostin, co-host of The View, who asked Harris on 8 October if she would have done anything differently from Biden over the past four years. “There is not a thing that comes to mind,” Harris awkwardly responded, horrifying her advisors and sparking an eruption of Trumpian triumphalism online.

In subsequent weeks, Harris tried to recover, telling CNN, “(My administration) will not be a continuation of the Biden administration,” but the damage was done. “Who would have thought that Sunny Hostin from The View really killed Kamala Harris’s candidacy?” Miller said. “But you can make the case that Sunny did.”

In fact, Harris may have faced a nearly impossible task in trying to overcome Biden’s consistently poor disapproval ratings, with some two-thirds of voters or more believing the nation was on the wrong track.

Through most of 2024, Biden and leading members of his party convinced themselves that he’d earned a second term handily based on his remarkable legislative record, including a major bipartisan infrastructure spending bill, historic climate investment, and the CHIPS and Science Act, all of which poured billions of dollars into manufacturing and clean energy. One reason Biden refused to step aside for as long as he did, despite concerns about his age and mental acuity, was that he was convinced voters would sooner or later realise how effective a president he’d been.

Indeed, after the 2022 midterm elections, when the Democrats performed far better than pundits had predicted and ascribed that to anti-Trump sentiment, Biden sounded overconfident, if anything. Speaking to reporters the day after the midterm elections, the president was asked what he might do differently to address voters’ concerns about the economy and the widespread sentiment that the country was generally moving in the wrong direction. He replied, “Nothing.”

Harris spent far too much time trying to argue that Trump was unfit for the presidency and too little time delivering a coherent message about why she would be better

And the economic news only seemed to get better. To the surprise of nearly every economist, the Biden administration managed to avoid a recession (with a lot of help from US Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell). By the spring and summer of 2023, inflation was beginning to recede and polls were showing that Biden's age and competence, rather than his agenda, were the chief issues.

But Biden's approval ratings barely budged beyond 40% or so, even after he left the race on 21 July under pressure from his party and handed the baton to Harris. Inflation—driven in part by Biden's huge spending programmes—remained a nagging issue, and voter sentiment about Biden's agenda continued to register in seriously negative numbers that made Harris' candidacy an uphill climb all the way.

Trump won the crucial contest of definition, if for all the wrong reasons. After Biden's long delay in withdrawing from the campaign, Harris was thrust from the vice presidential shadows into public view but had scarcely more than three months to sell herself. Trump has had eight years to do the same—including the four years of his first term as president and the four years since.

This culminated in a primary battle against Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis and Trump's former United Nations ambassador, Nikki Haley, that allowed him to redefine his presidency, absurdly, as one of the best in US history. With inflation and two wars raging abroad, many voters fondly recalled a pre-pandemic world that was mostly at peace and economically prosperous under Trump. After Trump decisively won the GOP nomination, even Republicans like Haley, who had once opposed him, kowtowed and embraced his falsehoods—most of them, anyway.

At the same time, the public and Trump's base had become so inured to the unrelenting tide of negative news about him that it almost didn't seem to matter that he was indicted on 91 felony counts and convicted of 34 of them or that he'd been twice impeached and found liable for sexual abuse. Every outrageous name Trump called Harris—"low-IQ individual," "crazy Kamala," "comrade Kamala," and so on—gained fresh coverage and appeared to appeal to many voters. Trump's unmatched talent at escalation dominance in the media—always grabbing the bigger headline by finding something more outrageous to say—was decisive.

Nor did it seem to matter that most of what Trump said was false. Indeed, the 2024 presidential campaign—far more than the elections of 2016 or 2020—marked a moment of maximum polarisation in US political dialogue, in which the public struggled to find an authoritative source of truth or fact. The political debate became a cesspool of false narratives, made-up memes, and deepfakes—mostly driven by Trump's innumerable lies.

By the fall, the United States had descended into a truly Orwellian universe in which Trump, the most effective hatemonger in US political history, could declare that it was Harris who was running a "campaign of hate" and could describe the violent 6 January 2021, insurrection he incited as a "day of love"—and still be accepted by his millions of devout followers.

The 2024 race was also skewed by foreign disinformation campaigns deployed by US adversaries such as Russia, China, and Iran, whose influence operations were far more sophisticated than before and ran rampant while US tech companies gave up most of their policing efforts and all but surrendered their platforms to such abuse.

2024 became, in other words, an ideal environment for the return of Trump.

The political landscape had shifted in ways the Harris campaign didn't really understand, with cultural issues playing a much bigger role than they had in a long time—even possibly trumping economic issues. Put another way, the takeover of the Democratic Party by progressive, so-called woke issues was devastating to Harris's campaign, especially as Trump and the Republicans successfully painted her as an unreconstructed left-winger.

After a fast start aided by media that was largely sympathetic and even desperate to see Harris win—which allowed her to avoid interviews for more than a month—the vice president found herself battling a tide of voter discontent about the more progressive elements of the Biden agenda.

As Fareed Zakaria recently noted in the Washington Post, "The strongest economy in the world has not paid off" for Biden or Harris, amounting to "yet one more powerful signal that our politics are in the midst of a great upheaval, as economic issues give way to cultural ones."

The upshot was that, despite a platform focused on winning back the working class economically, Biden and Harris lost too many of them culturally, especially when it came to a blue-collar rebellion against so-called woke issues such as preventing bans on transgender athletes in public schools, defunding the police, and so-called cancel culture.

As Democratic strategist James Carville warned several years ago, "stupid wokeness" had become a huge messaging problem for the Democrats, especially when it came to winning over male voters. The Trump team played to this vulnerability with savage effectiveness. In one ad aired during major sporting events, the Trump campaign even quoted a fervent Harris supporter—a popular Black podcast host named Charlamagne tha God—questioning Harris's previous support of taxpayer-funded surgery for transgender prisoners. "I was like, 'Hell no, I don't want my taxpayer dollars going to that,'" Charlamagne said in the ad. (He later filed a cease-and-desist motion against Trump.)

Many fear that the United States is not ready for a woman president after all, despite Harris's role as the first female vice president. Though no hard evidence yet exists to support this theory, some of the most decisive polling in the race showed overwhelming advantages for Harris from women—but large and growing margins for Trump among men.

Many of these male doubts about the vice president were fanned with fierce cynicism in what was known as Trump's "bro-whispering" strategy—with Trump sitting for interviews with influencers, comedians, and podcasters who have huge audiences of young men. Many of these target audiences were young white men who felt sidelined by progressive causes that tend to favour women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and minorities and who weren't as responsive to Harris's relentless focus on reproductive rights. But Trump also reached out to young nonwhite voters.

According to polling by the Institute of Politics at the Harvard Kennedy School, the amount of male voters under 30 who identified as Republican increased by seven points since 2020. John Della Volpe, director of the institute, said Trump won many of this group "by weaving a hypermasculine message of strength and defiance into his broader narrative that undermines confidence in democratic institutions."

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