Key Lessons From a Campaign Like No Other

The 2024 election season shattered expectations and upended traditional campaign strategies. With candidates facing historic challenges—one narrowly escaping assassination (twice!), the other bowing out under pressure—the race offered unprecedented insights into American politics. Here are four key takeaways from this extraordinary election year, along with some historical context.

The Importance of Debates

Debates can be pivotal. They provide candidates with a singular opportunity to alter or reinforce an image before a huge audience. Through her masterful debate performance in September, Kamala Harris introduced herself to the American public, bested her opponent, and projected a presidential aura. Joe Biden, on the other hand, failed to seize the moment to demonstrate that he was not too old to prosecute the campaign against Donald Trump and serve a second term. But Biden was not the first candidate to falter in this high-stakes arena.

In 1988, Democratic candidate Michael Dukakis was asked how he would respond if his wife were raped and murdered. Dukakis, often seen as a cold-blooded technocrat, replied with a rote defense of his opposition to the death penalty, failing to connect emotionally with voters. Similarly, in 1992, President George H. W. Bush was caught on camera looking at his watch during the first-ever town hall debate while a woman asked a question about the economic downturn. Bush’s action reinforced the perception that he was out of touch with ordinary Americans.

Perhaps the most instructive example for Biden comes from Ronald Reagan in 1984. Amid public concern that Reagan, at age 73, was too old to serve a second term, Reagan deftly defused the issue with a quip about opponent Walter Mondale’s “youth and inexperience.” Reagan did what Biden failed to do: use the debate to convince voters that he was up to the task of serving a second term.

The Vice-Presidential Selections

Pundits often describe one golden rule when selecting a running mate: “Do no harm.” There is plenty of evidence that the vice-presidential selection has minimal impact on the outcome of elections. But when it does have an effect, it is usually not the intended one.

In 2008, Republican nominee John McCain, seeking to shake up the race with Democratic rival Barack Obama, went way out of the box when he selected Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska as his running mate. The novelty of the pick gave McCain a short-term bounce in the polls. But as the campaign wore on, Palin proved to be a major distraction: Her qualifications and competence to be president, if necessary, dominated media coverage.

In a similar fashion, Trump’s selection of JD Vance violated the golden rule. Media coverage focused on Vance’s inflammatory remarks, such as his “childless cat ladies” comment, which overshadowed the campaign. In contrast, the selection of Tim Walz as Harris’ running mate not only respected the “do no harm” principle but also helped unify the party. And if we know anything about elections, we know a unified party is often a winning party.

The Race Card

In the 1970s, the Republican Party deployed a “Southern strategy” aimed at attracting the support of white Southerners through coded support for racial segregation. Richard Nixon used phrases like “silent majority,” “states’ rights,” and “law and order” to deliver this racially infused message. Ronald Reagan, during his 1976 campaign, referred disparagingly to “welfare queens” and “strapping young bucks,” and later, in 1980, delivered a speech on states’ rights in Neshoba County, Mississippi, near the site of the 1964 murders of three civil rights workers.

This brief historical overview highlights one key point: The Southern strategy did not begin with Donald Trump. It has long been a staple of Republican electoral politics. However, while Nixon, Reagan, and Bush used dog whistles to deliver their message, Trump’s approach has been openly incendiary. Trump pioneered the birther strategy against Barack Obama, claimed that “immigrants are poisoning the blood of our country,” vilified the Haitian community of Springfield, Ohio, and, during his interview with the National Association of Black Journalists, questioned Harris’ Black identity. Trump’s rhetoric has pushed the boundaries of racial language in American politics, making explicit what his predecessors left implicit.

Kamala Harris versus Hillary Clinton

Harris is the second woman to lead a major-party ticket; Hillary Clinton was, of course, the first. There are five factors that put Harris in a stronger position than Clinton.

First, because of the timing of Biden’s withdrawal, the Democrats could not realistically organize a new primary season. As a result, Harris emerged as the nominee without a bitter intraparty battle. Compare that to 2016, when the bruising battle between Clinton and Bernie Sanders left the party divided and weakened heading into the general election campaign.

Second, the Dobbs decision in 2022 shifted the landscape on reproductive rights and benefited Harris, who emerged as the Biden administration’s point person on this issue.

Third, in 2016, the media lavished attention on Donald Trump, whose candidacy was novel and unorthodox, and in doing so legitimized his candidacy. By 2024, the press became more adversarial toward Trump and more focused on fact-checking his mendacious claims.

Fourth, Trump is a weaker opponent now than he was in 2016. He is far better known. He no longer has the aura of a highly successful entrepreneur. His record as president is well known and fodder for the campaign. And he has been convicted of multiple felony counts while still facing more charges.

Finally, Harris is the first Black woman to lead a major-party presidential ticket. But she is not the first Black person (that was Barack Obama), and she is not the first woman (that was Hillary Clinton). Arguably, the public and the media seem more accepting of the historic nature of the Harris candidacy, and Harris herself is less inclined to emphasize this point.