Philippa Kaur

In 2016, Don Watson wrote a remarkable Quarterly Essay predicting the success of Trump, when political commentators were largely united in their belief that Hillary Clinton would win the election.

So it’s hardly surprising Watson was back in the United States this year to track Trump’s possible return to the White House. But politics can be a cruel game to follow, and he was clearly caught out by the rapid replacement of President Joe Biden by Kamala Harris – and a very different campaign.

It is too early to analyse the impact of the Trump/Harris debate, but there is little doubt that Harris handled herself impressively and established herself as a viable candidate. How many undecided voters will be put off by Trump’s bluster and boastfulness remains to be seen.

The first half of High Noon, Watson’s new Quarterly Essay on the US election, reads as if Trump’s re-election is inevitable. Watson had no illusions about Biden’s electability in 2024. Whether fairly or not, Biden was widely regarded as too old and unable to defend his record. That said, it is strange Watson has so little to say about Biden’s success four years ago, when he won back some of those voters who had opted for Trump.

Review: Quarterly Essay – High Noon: Trump, Harris and America on the Brink by Don Watson (Black Inc.)

Watson claims Bernie Sanders might have done better than Hillary Clinton in 2016 – but I’m not convinced. The Republicans would have consistently portrayed Sanders as a dangerous socialist, if not a communist – and for reasons Watson himself acknowledges, the dirt would probably have stuck. Against Sanders, Trump would have portrayed himself as the defender of American values in ways he could not four years later against Biden.

Appalled and enchanted by the US

Watson writes in the long tradition of outsiders who have traversed the US in search of understanding the complexities of the country.

Don Watson.

At his best, as in his account of life in Detroit and nearby Kalamazoo, Michigan, he combines analysis with poetic prose, often drawing on passing conversations to illuminate perceptions of the world rarely shared by readers of the Quarterly Essays. A taxi driver in Queens echoes Trump’s diatribes against illegal immigrants: “I am very angry,” he tells Watson. “Americans are very angry.”

Rather like journalist Nick Bryant, author of The Forever War, Watson is simultaneously appalled and enchanted by the US.

Like Bryant, he is aware of growing inequality, persistent racism and the extent of its violence, even as he relishes the energy and inventiveness of so much of American life. Like me, Watson knows that entering the US recalls the moment in The Wizard of Oz where black and white suddenly transforms to colour.

He writes that Trump has turned politics into “the wildly adversarial and addictive world” of TV wrestling. We understand “wrestlers are real, but not real […] personifications of good and evil, courage and cowardice, patriotism and treachery”.

As Watson suggests, Trump has created “a fictional setting for his fictions” where “he can be as abusive and as untruthful as he likes” – and where “boasting, posturing and abusing” are expected.

Trump has turned politics into TV wrestling, as Hulk Hogan’s appearance at the Republican Convention suggests.
Jim Lo Scalzo/AAP

One question dominates High Noon, as it did his earlier essay. Namely: what explains Trump’s ability to capture the Republican Party – and perhaps to become only the second president to be re-elected after losing the election following their first term?

Watson is good at explaining Trump’s ability to channel the discontent and anger of millions of Americans. But he fails to explain the almost total defeat of the Republican establishment, which has so jettisoned its own past that no senior member of any Republican administration before Trump could be found to speak at their convention.

Former vice president Dick Cheney (under George W. Bush) is among the establishment Republicans who’ve recently announced their support for Harris, hardly surprising as his daughter, Liz Cheney, lost her position in Congress due to her antipathy to Trump.

Former congresswoman Liz Cheney and her father, former vice president Dick Cheney, are among the Republicans who have endorsed Kamala Harris.
Jabin Botsford/Washington Post/AAP

There is surprisingly little reflection on the culture wars, which have become central to Republican campaigns over the past decade. And no discussion of abortion or attacks on woke ideologies (gender, critical race theory), which have become staples of the MAGA language and help cement the white evangelical vote for Trump.

I wish Watson had spoken to more women, given the growing gender gap within American politics and the way Harris’ nomination has accelerated that. A recent poll shows Harris leading Trump by 13 points among women. Her success in a couple of key states, including Arizona and Nevada, may hinge on otherwise apolitical women turning out to vote on referenda to ban abortions.

Abortion is for Trump what Gaza is for Harris: an issue that arouses great passions that are impossible to reconcile among people they could normally take for granted. In Tuesday’s presidential debate, Trump equivocated on abortion, making unsubstantiated claims for postpartum terminations while claiming he’s “great for women and their reproductive rights”.

I suspect the last section of High Noon was written after Watson returned to Australia. His account of Harris’ nomination and the early stages of the 2024 campaign lack the firsthand immediacy of the earlier sections.

Vice President Kamala Harris speaks at Planned Parenthood in March.
Adam Bettcher/AAP

Capitalism trumps democracy

The overriding question Watson poses is: how can a country that believes itself to be a democracy, the leader of “the Free World”, possibly elect a demagogue like Trump?

In the end, it seems, capitalism trumps democracy. Watson quotes the right-wing billionaire Peter Thiel as saying he no longer believes freedom and democracy are compatible. Harris consistently stresses that Trump’s tax proposals would further increase economic inequality within the US.

“An election,” writes Watson, “is democracy’s effort to outrun the anger and envy arising from its failure to honour the promise of a fair shake for everyone.” My hunch is that Harris understands this. The apoplectic columns in the Murdoch press claiming she is light on policy ignore the fact Clinton lost in 2016 despite an armoury of policies designed to attract working-class voters.

Watson writes that an election is ‘democracy’s effort to outrun … anger and envy’.
John Minchillo/AAP

Trump is almost unique in winning (and then losing) by speaking of anger and decline. Harris is in the tradition of both Ronald Reagan and Barack Obama in proclaiming hope. (In choosing the title for his essay, did Watson remember that Reagan cited High Noon as his favourite film?)

I wish Watson had held off finishing this essay long enough to see whether the Harris campaign’s instinctive sense of how to defeat Trump through positivity over anger, stressing his egoism against her desire to unify the country, pays off.

Why do we care so much?

Is Trump a fascist? Watson skirts around this question. He is correct, though, in pointing to Trump’s admiration for Hungarian authoritarian prime minister Viktor Orban.

In today’s debate, Trump called Orban “one of the most respected men, they call him a strong man” and quoted him as saying “you need Trump back as president”. Trump further claimed China and North Korea are “afraid” of him.

Trump claims he can end the war in Ukraine, but gives no answer as to how he would do this. Neither Trump nor Harris have any obvious solution for the war in Gaza, although Trump claims she would be responsible for the destruction of Israel, again with no clear explanation for this.

The constant attempts by Trump’s supporters to interfere with what we would regard as the basic norms of free democratic elections – including, most dramatically, the attacks of January 6 – suggest a second Trump administration would sorely test those Australian politicians who like to speak of our shared values.

Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump and Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban.
Zoltan Fischer/AAP

Watson reflects a much larger Australian obsession with the US, ranging from the AUKUS agreement to the extraordinarily high proportion of American speakers who turn up at our literary festivals.

But as Watson writes in his final paragraph: “You have your own life to lead. Why let yourself be lured into theirs?”

It’s a good question, but Watson has provided an answer for why we should pay attention to US politics. He writes: “Once the Democrats allow themselves to be defined by their opposition to Trump, the fight is as good as lost.”

Until Harris became the candidate, it seemed as if this was the only strategy the Democrats had to fall back upon. Her performance in the debate suggests Harris is both willing to attack Trump and to promise a rather different path forward, stressing the need for generational change.

Don Watson’s Quarterly Essay High Noon: Trump, Harris and America on the Brink (Black Inc.) is published Monday 16 September. More

Presidential candidates talk about national decline while campaigning. A lot. This was front and center during the June 2024 debate between former President Donald Trump and President Joe Biden.

“Throughout the entire world, we’re no longer respected as a country,” Trump said, as he has repeatedly.

Trump continued by saying that if the United States had a president that Vladimir Putin respected, “he would have never invaded Ukraine.” Trump said “we’re laughed at” and that “the United States’ reputation under this man’s leadership is horrible.”

Biden countered Trump’s evocative statement with the argument that the U.S. has “the finest military in the history of the world” and that it remains well respected abroad.

“The idea that somehow we are this failing country,” Biden said, “I never heard a president talk like this before.”

Public polls on other countries’ views of the U.S. support Biden’s point.

Yet politicians’ warnings of decline persist because they invoke fear for the country’s security, anxiety about another country gaining more power and anger about the United States’ various problems.

Donald Trump speaks at a Fox News town hall with Sean Hannity on Sept. 4, 2024.
Nathan Morris/NurPhoto via Getty Images

Messages of decline over the years

While Trump’s messages of American carnage are dramatic, exchanges of this sort are not uncommon in U.S. politics.

During the 1960 presidential election, for example, John F. Kennedy, then a U.S. senator from Massachusetts, frequently warned that the U.S. was falling behind the Soviet Union, in everything from space exploration to international respect.

“I don’t want historians, 10 years from now, to say these were the years when the tide ran out for the United States,” Kennedy said during his first televised debate against his Republican opponent, Vice President Richard Nixon, on Sept. 26, 1960.

Warning of national decline has remained a common campaign message ever since, with the challenging party’s side claiming that the country is falling behind or losing respect, forcing the incumbent’s side to play defense.

Pushing back on messages of decline

My research examines the role of perceived threats to national status in domestic and international politics. I ran an experiment in March 2024 with 1,079 Americans, aimed at trying to understand how their concerns about national decline affect their foreign policy opinions.

One-third of respondents were randomly assigned to read a prompt warning that experts and leaders from both parties agreed that the U.S. was declining, relative to its rivals. Another third of respondents read the opposite message, which listed facts from bipartisan experts arguing that concerns about national decline were overblown. The final third read about a topic unrelated to politics.

Those who read about American decline reported increased levels of fear, anger and anxiety than the group who did not read about this topic. One respondent, for example, wrote, “My biggest concern is other countries won’t respect us. Once we show weakness, other countries will try to overtake us.”

However, the text of bipartisan experts arguing that the U.S. was not declining did not assuage Americans’ anxieties.

Approximately 30% of people, both liberal and conservative, who read that experts said the concerns over national decline are overblown outright rejected the premise of the text, compared with just 11% of those who read that U.S. global standing is declining.

Some respondents asked if the text was a joke and said that the U.S. is becoming a “third-world country.” Others pointed to the state of U.S. health care or reproductive rights to question how one could suggest that the country is not falling behind.

Kamala Harris waves as she arrives at a campaign rally in Savannah, Ga., on Aug. 29, 2024.
Saul Loeb/AFP via Getty Images

Fighting emotion with emotion

When the Democratic ticket changed and Biden announced in July 2024 that he would not run for reelection, the political messaging of Democratic leaders did, too.

Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris and her running mate, Tim Walz, have, at times, incited fear about what a second Trump term would look like. But they have also used language and talked about topics that center on joy and excitement, celebrating things like Walz’s tenure as a teacher and football coach and the pride Harris has for her mother’s work and sacrifices.

“Guided by optimism and faith,” Harris said in her nomination speech in August 2024, she encouraged her supporters to “write the next great chapter in the most extraordinary story ever told.”

Harris has also provided an emotionally powerful counter to Trump’s “Make America Great Again,” in the form of “Not Going Back.”

In Walz’s first appearance as the Democratic candidate for vice president on Aug. 6, he thanked Harris for “bringing back the joy.” With rallies filled with boisterous call-and-responses and chanting, Harris has seized on joy and excitement in detailing a vision of America’s future, juxtaposing her rallies with what she described as Trump’s “the-world-is-doomed rallies.”

The subtitle of one Harris campaign press release following a Trump news conference, for example, read: “Split Screen: Joy and Freedom vs. Whatever the Hell That Was.”

US global standing in 2024 campaign

While Harris’ rallies have largely focused on domestic issues like abortion rights and economic inequality, debates over the country’s global standing will reemerge and persist. In an August 2024 poll, the second-most-common reason likely Harris voters said they supported her was because she would strengthen the United States’ status in the world – while the second-most-common reason other voters opposed her was because they thought she would weaken the country on the global stage.

Trump has continued to describe the U.S. as a “nation in decline.” Harris, in her Democratic National Convention speech, countered that she will work to ensure that “America, not China, wins the competition for the 21st century and that we strengthen, not abdicate, our global leadership.”

Harris also remarked in her acceptance speech: “You know, our opponents in this race are out there every day denigrating America, talking about how terrible everything is. Well, my mother had another lesson she used to teach: Never let anyone tell you who you are. You show them who you are.”

Campaign rhetoric warning of American decline has been common since at least 1960, and it isn’t going away anytime soon. But with a new Democratic ticket and a transformed race, Democrats are now fighting emotion with emotion. And that is more likely to resonate than informing people that things are not as bad as they fear. More

It’s the big question that has loomed over Kamala Harris’ presidential campaign from the start: is the United States ready for a Black woman president?

I get asked this almost every time I speak about American politics. And it’s a question that pundits, observers and experts keep asking, without ever landing on an answer.

That’s because the question is, in the end, unanswerable. It’s so heavily loaded that answering it requires too much history, cultural knowledge, judgment and speculation.

While the question hints at the deeply ingrained racism and sexism that is built into the structures of American politics and culture, it doesn’t directly address these things, leaving assumptions about just how sexist and racist the country might be unresolved.

Asking if America is “ready” also assumes that history is progress – that things move forward in a relatively straight line. It assumes that in the past America was not ready for a Black woman president, but at some point in the future it might be. It assumes, as Martin Luther King junior once said so beautifully, that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice”.

Like much of King’s teachings, this idea has been flattened into an assumption that “progress” is inevitable – that women and people of colour will eventually get equal representation and treatment as society learns, gradually, to become more just, tolerant and accepting.

It assumes that, one day, the United States will live up to its own foundational ideal that “all men are created equal”.

But as Harris has herself said, the United States has not always lived up to its own ideals. Progress on equality – especially in extending it beyond the original, exclusively white men identified in the Constitution – has been patchy and frustratingly slow. It has also been marred by violence and even war.

History is not a forward march. It does not “progress” to some end point of idealism. It is, more often than not, a fight.

Are you ready for it?

Many other countries have shown it is possible to be “ready” for a woman leader at various points in their histories, only to return to being not ready again.

India, the largest democracy in the world, elected Indira Gandhi to the prime ministership in 1966. Gandhi served for over a decade, and then again from 1980 to 1984, when she was assassinated. Every leader since then has been a man.

Similarly, the United Kingdom elected its first woman prime minister, Margaret Thatcher, in 1979. After Thatcher resigned in 1990, the UK didn’t have another woman leader until Liz Truss in 2022 (and that didn’t exactly go well).

In Australia, Julia Gillard won a very close election to become prime minister in 2010, only to lose to a man four years later. There has been no real suggestion that a woman, let alone a woman of colour, might ascend to the leadership of either major party in the decade since. And could Australia even be definitively considered “ready” for a woman leader in that period, given how Gillard was treated during her prime ministership?

Julia Gillard’s famous misogyny speech in 2012.

New Zealand has a stronger record. Jenny Shipley became the first woman prime minister in 1997 by bumping off the leader of the coalition government. Helen Clark was then the first woman to be elected prime minister in 1999, followed by Jacinda Ardern nearly two decades later, in 2017.

Vigdis Finnbogadottir in 1985.
Wikimedia Commons

While Britain, New Zealand and Australia have some political and cultural similarities with the United States, they have different political structures. Unlike in the US, their leaders are not directly elected, making the specific identity of the leader less explicitly the focus of elections.

Other countries with direct elections, though, have also been “ready” for women leaders at one point or another. In 1980, Iceland became the first country in the world to directly elect a woman to the presidency. Vigdís Finnbogadóttir served for 16 years. Deeply conservative Ireland was also ready 30 years ago, directly electing its first woman president, Mary Robinson, in 1990.

Structural inequality

For the most part, though, these women are exceptions to ingrained, structural gender inequality in politics across the world – albeit a reality reflected more starkly in the American experience.

The fact the question of “readiness” remains so prominent reflects the fundamental reality of the unequal representation of women, especially Black women and women of colour, not just in America but in most democracies.

In June this year, UN Women noted only 27 countries currently have women leaders. It said:

At the current rate, gender equality in the highest positions of power will not be reached for another 130 years.

The idea of a “rate” of progress once again assumes the world will be ready for women leaders one day (even if that day might be more than a century away).

Unsurprisingly, the same structural inequality is reflected below the highest levels of leadership. UN Women found only 15 countries where women hold at least 50% of Cabinet minister positions. And when women do get leadership positions, it’s often in areas traditionally understood as “women’s” or “minority” issues, such as social services or Indigenous affairs.

This general trend is reflected in the US, too. After the most recent US election, the Congress has a “record number” of women. Yet it is still just 28%.

Similarly, in Australia, research by The Australia Institute found women are underrepresented in seven of Australia’s nine parliaments.

That should not, however, undermine the significant achievements of women and people of colour, who have long fought for a seat at the table of power – often at great personal risk.

According to the Pew Research Center, the current Congress in the US is also the most racially and ethnically diverse in history, with 133 representatives and senators identifying their ethnicity as something other than non-Hispanic white.

And in 2021, Harris became the first woman, the first person of South Asian descent and the first Black woman to be vice president of the United States. In another historic milestone, President Joe Biden appointed the first Native American woman to a Cabinet position – Interior Secretary Deb Haaland.

A milestone was achieved in Australia, too, when Linda Burney became the first Aboriginal woman to serve as minister for Indigenous affairs in 2022.

Weaponising gender and race

None of this, though, can confirm or deny the “readiness” of the United States – or any other country – to elect a Black woman leader.

There are signs a sizeable portion of the American electorate is decidedly not ready to elevate a woman, let alone a Black woman, to the highest position of power.

A great deal of attention has, rightly, been focused on the current Republican candidates’ attitudes towards gender and race. Vice-presidential nominee JD Vance, for instance, has made numerous comments about women, such as his insistence that “childless cat ladies” have too much power. Donald Trump has also repeatedly attacked women with sexist remarks, made obscene comments about women’s bodies, and been found liable in a civil court for sexual assault.

In August, Fox News anchor Jesse Watters suggested generals would “have their way” with Harris if she were to be elected.

Trump, Vance and their surrogates use race and gender to delegitimise their opponents, suggesting they are not fit for positions of power.

Such misogynistic attacks are a common experience for women in politics. Decades before Vance’s insistence that only people with biological children have a proper “stake” in the future, an Australian Liberal senator suggested Gillard was unfit for leadership because she was “deliberately barren”.

As a Black woman, Harris faces attacks on both her race and her gender. Right-wing figures have repeatedly dismissed her as a “DEI” (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) candidate, suggesting she has only made it as far as she has because of special treatment based not on her merit, but on her identity.

Once again adopting a tactic he honed during Barack Obama’s presidency, Trump has also repeatedly questioned Harris’ legitimacy as vice president and a candidate based on her race.

Context matters

Not so long ago, many people assumed Hillary Clinton would win the race to be “first”. When she accepted the presidential nomination at the Democratic National Convention in 2016, she stood, symbolically, underneath a shattering glass ceiling.

A few months later, that ceiling quickly re-formed itself.

But even Clinton’s loss in 2016 cannot definitely prove that America was “not ready” for a woman president. Context is crucial.

Even those voters who might be “ready” for a woman president won’t vote for just any woman. They will make decisions based on complicated, interrelated factors, including a candidate’s policy positions.

Hillary Clinton conceding defeat to Donald Trump in 2016.
Matt Rourke

It’s arguable the role both Bill and Hillary Clinton played in the adoption of free-trade agreements – from Bill Clinton’s overseeing of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) to Hillary Clinton’s support of the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) – alongside economic stagnation in the US, had a much bigger role in Clinton’s loss than her gender. And her characterisation of alienated voters as “a basket of deplorables” certainly didn’t help.

Clinton had significant political baggage after decades in the spotlight. The political, economic and historic circumstances of the 2016 presidential race – alongside Trump’s political ascendancy – are impossible to pull apart.

Similarly, while some Britons might have voted for Thatcher because she was a woman, many also voted for her because of her conservative policy positions, or perhaps because they disapproved of her opponents more.

Decades later and worlds apart politically, Harris is under pressure from a critical section of her own party’s base to modify her position on Israel. This is a serious and pressing policy issue that has nothing to do with her race or gender and everything to do with competing visions for the United States’ role in the world. And this will have an impact on many voters’ decisions in November.

Put simply, it cannot be definitively argued that Clinton lost in 2016 because America was “not ready” for a woman. Or that circumstances have changed enough that the country can be considered ready now.

In a different context, with a different candidate and a different policy platform, America may well have been “ready” in 2016. A different woman – like, say, the unwaveringly popular Michelle Obama – might well have been able to beat Trump. Or not. We simply have no way of knowing.

And even if we did, we still could not know if America was definitively “ready” for a Black woman to lead.

Michelle Obama’s approval ratings have consistently been very high.
Brynn Anderson/AP

Kamala Harris’ ‘firsts’

Nevertheless, at this year’s Democratic National Convention in Chicago, Hillary Clinton reflected on the possibility of “firsts” and the progress of American history. She proclaimed that “a future where there are no ceilings on our dreams” had finally arrived.

Harris, too, is focused on the future – but not on her “firsts”.

In her first media interview since becoming the Democratic candidate, for example, she dismissed a question about Trump’s focus on her race. Her campaign has successfully framed any specific focus on gender or race – and particularly on women’s bodies – as “weird”.

In this way, Harris’ campaign has firmly flipped the focus of identity politics back onto Trump and Vance. Her campaign is showcasing a very different kind of masculinity – one that is entirely comfortable with Black women occupying positions of leadership.

The Harris campaign is reinforcing this framing by focusing not on individual “firsts”, but on structural gender and racial inequality and women’s basic rights of bodily autonomy. In this way, the campaign is embracing a collective feminism, rather than the more 1990s-style, individualistic, “white women” feminism more redolent of Clinton. Kamala is, after all, brat.

The Harris campaign is explicitly avoiding the tempting shallowness of identity politics, learning the lessons of an often fraught Clinton campaign that appeared to assume Americans would vote for her precisely because she was a woman, or because it was time America did, finally, elect a woman president.

All of this is, implicitly at least, a recognition that “readiness” is not a simple question with a straightforward answer. The Harris campaign recognises it is not necessarily a question of collective “readiness”, but of getting enough Americans who are already ready inspired and mobilised.

As Biden has said repeatedly, “women are not without […] electoral or political power”. According to one analysis, in the four years since 2020, Black women’s voter registration has increased by 98.4%. Among young Black women, it has increased by 175.8%.

Black American women are clearly ready for this moment.

The question has no answer

If Harris is elected this November, many will take this as proof that a threshold has been crossed, that America was indeed collectively “ready” to be led by a Black woman. And that might be true. Up to a point.

The United States once demonstrated itself “ready” to elect its first Catholic president. In 2008, it proved itself “ready” to elect the first Black president.But eight years later, in an historic, world-shaping backlash, it went back to being very much not ready.

The divides of American politics are deep and structural. They have remained unresolved since the country’s foundation. The election of the first Black woman would be hugely significant, a remarkable historical development in what has already been an extraordinary campaign.

But the question of whether America is “ready” for this moment cannot be answered by a single individual.

There are two versions of America: one that is ready for this moment (and has always been), and one that will likely never be. These two versions co‑exist. And they are, for the moment, irreconcilable.

Both sides know that victory in November is only an indication of where power lies in this moment. It will not be some clear resolution to a centuries-long question about what the United States is and what it wants to be.

That’s not how history works. More

Six weeks ago, it was inconceivable that Vice President Kamala Harris would be in the driver’s seat of this year’s US presidential election.

Harris was the afterthought running mate of President Joe Biden, an historically unpopular incumbent. Donald Trump, having survived an assassination attempt by millimetres, had a commanding lead in a presidential race for the first time in his political career.

Republicans were also coming off a flawless national convention that gave a strong message of party unity and enthusiasm for Trump’s third consecutive run for the top office. Even the vice-presidential selection of Senator JD Vance, a recent convert to Trump’s nationalist project, was seen as evidence of the former president’s strength.

Yet this week, on the cusp of early voting, Harris leads Trump by nearly two percentage points in the RealClearPolitics national polling average and by 3.2 points in the FiveThirtyEight polling roundup.

Democrats, evidently ecstatic over Biden’s departure from the race, have embraced Harris’ relative youthfulness and vitality. Although she has a strong progressive track record, Harris’ popularity has soared as she has embraced moderate positions on energy, immigration and key foreign policy issues. Her vibe appears to be superhuman.

Does this mean Harris will run away with the presidency? Or can Trump get back in this race?

Flailing at the worst time

Since Harris’ ascendancy to the nomination (perhaps the fastest in modern American politics), Trump’s campaign has been flailing.

He questioned her racial identity before a group of Black journalists, a rhetorical manoeuvre that predictably landed with a thud. He has spent a couple of weeks flip‑flopping on abortion, enraging his pro‑life supporters.

Most recently, his maladroit campaign turned a visit to Arlington National Cemetery honouring service members killed during the US pullout from Afghanistan into a complete disaster. Harris and the media are slamming Trump for politicising the hallowed resting place of national heroes and even bullying the cemetery’s staff.

It may seem hopeless for the Republicans. The race, however, is not what it appears.

In fact, the candidates remain quite close in the critical swing states. The three “blue wall” states of Wisconsin, Michigan and Pennsylvania, in particular, are vital to Harris’ chances. Harris knows this and is even willing to campaign with Biden in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where his blue‑collar, working‑class appeal is greatest.

Each campaign is spending tens of millions on ads in Pennsylvania alone. They know that turning out their voters in that state could be the key to overall victory.

Loath to lean into his advantage

Trump also has a latent advantage that may prove helpful in the end. On several key issues, he is still out‑polling Harris: the economy, inflation and immigration.

With Harris winning the vibes contest, Trump needs to break through with voters on these public policy matters. Trump will have the opportunity to do just that in the first presidential debate on September 10.

To reframe the race in his favour, he will have to show that Harris has herself shifted position on immigration and energy policy. In her only media interview since becoming the Democrats’ presidential nominee, for instance, Harris said she no longer supported a ban on fracking, which she had backed in 2019.

But can Trump manage this? So far, he has not demonstrated the discipline required to make this a race on policy. He appears to be more interested in competing on the vibes front, discussing who is better looking (Harris or himself) and who is attracting the biggest crowds to their speeches.

Trump’s top campaign advisers this year, Susie Wiles and Chris LaCavita, are a more accomplished and disciplined team than he has ever had. Through the Republican convention in July, the pair had successfully manoeuvred Trump, who had been deeply damaged by the January 6 insurrection, to a leading position against Biden. They orchestrated a near‑sweep of talented Republican challengers in the primaries and kept Trump’s focus on the issues that mattered to voters.

Rather than leaning into their advice, however, Trump appears to be disengaging from his campaign managers’ steady hands. In recent weeks, he has also brought back Corey Lewandowski, who ran Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign, sparking rumours of a campaign shake‑up.

Trump speaking to supporters during the 2016 presidential election, with campaign manager Corey Lewandowski.
Gerald Herbert/AP

Perhaps Trump’s near-death experience at the rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, in July has made him want to do things “his way”. Perhaps he is tired of being managed. Perhaps he is alarmed by Harris’ gravity-defying rise in the polls.

In any case, he needs to return to a focus on the policy issues where he connects most with voters to get back on top of this race.

If he doesn’t, he’ll lose his second presidential campaign in a row. More

America’s first family has been in the news again recently. This time, the focus has been Robert F. Kennedy (RFK) Jr. After nominating as an independent candidate for the US presidential election, he subsequently withdrew and endorsed Republican candidate Donald Trump.

His staunch anti-vaccination stance had already been reported, but then came the bizarre stories about him chainsawing the head off a dead whale and driving around with it attached to the roof of his car – after he’d already admitted to dumping a dead bear cub in Central Park ten years ago.

Review: Ask Not: The Kennedys and the Women They Destroyed by Maureen Callahan (HarperCollins)

The nephew of assassinated US President John F. Kennedy (JFK) and son of Robert (Bobby) F. Kennedy, the former US attorney general who was assassinated in 1968 while campaigning for the Democratic presidential nomination, RFK Jr has a long history of inconsistent and embarrassing behaviour.

But what is more concerning, according to Maureen Callahan’s new book Ask Not: The Kennedys and the Women They Destroyed, is his behaviour towards women, including the neglect and gaslighting of his second wife, Mary Richardson Kennedy, who died by suicide in 2012.

RFK Jr neglected and gaslit his second wife, Mary Richardson Kennedy, before she died by suicide in 2012.
AAP

She writes that he “remains unbothered and unquestioned about the circumstances” leading to the death of this “fragile woman who he tormented toward the end of their marriage and in the lead up to her suicide, cheating on her, cutting off her credit cards and access to cash, trying to forcibly hospitalise her, telling her she’d be ‘better off dead’.”

RFK Jr’s prominence in the 2024 US election (Trump has appointed him to a senior role in his transition team) makes Ask Not particularly timely and topical. While the book mostly focuses on people and events from the past, it highlights the persistent influence of the Kennedy legacy on American politics.

Entitlement and recklessness

Ask Not draws a line between the Kennedy history and contemporary America, while also connecting the stories of the many women who have suffered at the expense of the Kennedy men’s extraordinary sense of entitlement and recklessness.

Divided into 12 parts, with sections on 13 different women, Ask Not turns the attention from the prominent Kennedy men to the women they “destroyed”. Some of these women are well known. There are two sections devoted to Marilyn Monroe and three to Jackie Kennedy. Other women would have barely been noticed by the Kennedys until their lives were ended or ruined through associations with the family.

Robert and Ethel Kennedy with their children, 1966. From right: Kathleen, 15; Joseph, 14; Robert Jr, 13; David, 11; Mary Courtney, 10; Michael, 8; Kerry, 7; and Christopher, 3.
AAP

Callahan identifies Pamela Kelley as one of those women. As a teenager, she was friends with RFK Jr and his brothers David and Joe. In August 1973, she reluctantly agreed to travel with David and Joe and others on a trip to Nantucket. Seven teenagers piled into an open jeep.

According to Callahan, Joe tore through the streets of Nantucket, driving in circles before crossing into the other lane and incoming traffic. He swerved and the jeep flipped at least twice. “The carnage,” Callahan writes, “was unbelievable”. Two of the girls had broken necks. Pamela was thrown 30 metres into the air before landing on a tree trunk. She would never walk again.

Six days later, Joe Kennedy pled not guilty in court, standing before Judge George Anastos, an old classmate of his late uncle, Joseph Kennedy. Callahan recounts the scene: “You had a great father and you have a great mother,” Anastos said. “Use your illustrious name as an asset instead of coming into court like this.” He gave Joe a $100 fine and let him go.

There was a similar lack of accountability when Joe’s uncle, US Senator Ted Kennedy, faced court over the death of Mary Jo Kopechne a few years earlier. The young political staffer was the only passenger in a car that Ted Kennedy crashed after a party at Martha’s Vineyard in 1969.

Ted had been drinking and was speeding when the car plunged from a bridge into the water. He left Mary Jo in the car to seek help but did not call the authorities. By the time trained rescuers arrived, Mary Jo had suffocated.

Senator Ted Kennedy’s car is pulled from the water in July 1969. Mary Jo Kopechne was killed after Kennedy drove his car off Dyke Bridge on Chappaquiddick Island.
AAP

Defying belief

The stories in Ask Not often defy belief. But most of the older stories in the book have been well and truly verified by now. For the more recent examples, Callahan has relied on original interviews with friends and families of the affected women, plus additional sources including other books and media reports. She provides notes for each woman included.

She conducted original interviews with (mostly unnamed) people who knew John F. Kennedy Jr’s wife Carolyn Bessette, who died along with her sister when a plane he was flying crashed in 1999. She also spoke to those who knew RFK Jr’s second wife Mary Richardson, Mary Jo Kopechne, Pamela Kelley and a young girl called Martha Moxley.

Martha Moxley, aged 14, a year before she was murdered.
AAP

Moxley was brutally murdered aged 15. RFK Jr’s then-teenage cousin, Michael Skakel, was convicted and jailed for the crime. After serving 11 years of a 20-year sentence he was released and the conviction was vacated, pending a retrial that never happened. RFK Jr later published a book, Framed: Why Michael Skakel Spent Over a Decade in Prison for a Murder He Didn’t Commit.

Callahan also drew on “a long history of reporting on the Kennedy dynasty” as a writer for Vanity Fair and the New York Post. Callahan’s author note doesn’t specify whether she interviewed any of the Kennedy men. Although there is very little direct attribution in the book, Ask Not appears to be thoroughly researched and she is an excellent writer.

Her language is concise and evocative. Each section reads like a tightly edited feature story. She draws the reader in, and at various points, leaves them wanting more. Ask Not is a long book, but it is also compulsively readable (not to be confused with an easy read; it’s frequently disturbing).

A key strength is the unconventional structure. Divided into 12 parts, it does not follow a chronological order, instead combining the various stories of the women by themes such as “Rebels”, “The Girls”, “The Survivors” and “Falling Stars”.

Unexpectedly, Ask Not includes sections on women within the Kennedy family: the matriarch Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy and two of her four daughters, Rosemary and Kathleen (known as Kick), sisters to JFK, Bobby and Ted.

These sections provide insights into the family’s attitudes towards women, driven largely by pervasive patriarchal values and misogyny, but also through Rose’s religious beliefs: “The only Catholic more devout than Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy may have been the pope.”

From left, are, seated: Eunice, Jean, Edward, on lap of his father, Joe Kennedy Sr, Patricia, and Kathleen, and standing, Rosemary, Robert, John, mother Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy, and Joseph Jr. 1938.
AAP

When Kick Kennedy decided to marry an English protestant, she continued to have a relationship with her father Joe, while Rose completely cut her off. She died, aged 28, in a horrific plane crash in 1948.

Her sister Rosemary lived a long life, but her story is no less tragic. According to Callahan, Rosemary was seen as different to her smart and sporty siblings. She was “slow at school, earnest, child-like and needy”. The Kennedys were winners; yet she was a loser.

Her father Joe was so embarrassed of Rosemary that he hid her away for years before arranging for her to have experimental surgery at age 23. She was lobotomised and “left functionally as a two-year-old” and subsequently “stashed away in another state without any contact from her siblings or parents”.

Dangerous men

Ask Not starts with “Icons” and Carolyn Bessette, detailing her initial reluctance to allow her husband, JFK Jr, to fly her to Martha’s Vineyard on the night of July 16 1999.

Long before he made a series of rash and senseless decisions that led to the plane crash that killed him, Carolyn and her sister, Lauren, JFK Jr had a history of selfish risk-taking. “No one could have believed that the kind, humble, gorgeous John Kennedy had a habit of putting others in danger too – most often his closest friends and girlfriends,” Callahan writes.

JFK Jr had a history of selfish risk-taking before he, wife Carolyn Bessette Kennedy and her sister died in a plane crash he piloted.
Luca Bruno/AAP

“Speeding, swimming too far out into the ocean, driving recklessly onto sidewalks or while high on pot, skiing in whiteout conditions, acting like an expert in all sports when really he was just an amateur – there was little John wouldn’t dare and he bullied almost everyone in his life to be as wild as he was.” Like many of his male relatives, JFK Jr was not used to being told “no”. Whatever he wanted, he got. His life was defined by a sense of entitlement others would struggle to comprehend.

The initial focus on JFK Jr works well, as he exemplifies the recklessness and carelessness of the Kennedy men that Callahan outlines throughout the rest of the book. For most of the Kennedy men, a sense of entitlement extended beyond their professional lives and into their interactions with women. JFK Jr was somewhat of an exception, according to Callahan. His father, on the other hand, may have the worst reputation for womanising.

Even though some of the women in JFK’s life had shared their experiences publicly before, they make for confronting reading. As president, JFK would invite young women who worked at the White House to drinks in his office before offering them “a tour of the residence”. When 19-year-old Mimi Beardsley agreed, the president pushed her onto Jackie Kennedy’s bed, pulled off her underwear and had sex with her.

Jackie Kennedy famously endured her husband’s relentless womanising.
John Rous/AAP

According to Callahan, JFK Jr had a voracious sexual appetite. He constantly slept around, repeatedly infecting his wife with sexually transmitted diseases, sharing lovers and prostitutes with his friends and brothers. Concerningly, his womanising was well known in Washington circles, including among the press who turned a blind eye.

A destructive force

Other Kennedy men may not have been as extreme, but they tended to share a perception that women were objects of lust, something that they were owed.

In diaries he left around for the house for his wife Mary to read, RFK Jr kept a list of all the women he had been with. There were so many – “astronomical numbers”. He ranked them from 1 to 10, as if he were a teenager, according to Callahan.

“The Kennedys remain a powerful and frequently destructive force, both in our politics and in our culture,” Callahan writes in the prologue, citing RFK Jr’s current influence as an example.

We must examine the Kennedy history, Callahan argues, and question the family’s enduring legacy. “Do the Kennedys deserve to remain a power centre in American life and politics?” she asks. She ends the prologue with an explanation for the book’s title, taken from JFK’s famous 1961 inaugural address, and a call for the question to be reframed.

“Ask not” has also forever been an admonition to women in the Kennedy sphere: Ask no questions. Don’t ask for help or respect, for fairness or justice.This book takes that as a dare. Ask Not?Let’s. More

The recent Democratic National Convention in Chicago was a showcase of impressive speeches. Presidential nominee Kamala Harris justified the newfound enthusiasm of Democrats with a strong acceptance speech, but even she couldn’t match the oratorical power of Michelle and Barack Obama two nights earlier.

US political culture is marked by visionary speeches, from Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address and William Jennings Bryan’s “Cross of gold” to Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” and Ronald Reagan’s “Tear down this wall”. This rhetorical tradition infuses events such as party conventions, where memorable speeches can lay the groundwork for presidential careers.

Australia also has some justly famous political speeches. There was Robert Menzies’ “Forgotten People” address of 1942, Paul Keating’s Redfern speech in 1992, and Julia Gillard’s “misogyny speech” to parliament in 2012. Noel Pearson’s eulogy for Gough Whitlam in 2014 was a rhetorical masterpiece.

But these speeches are memorable because they are so rare. Australian politicians need to be good communicators, but they are not expected to deliver the kind of soaring, visionary rhetoric we see so often in the US. Why is this?

Politics with the soul of a church

US party conventions often look like Hollywood awards ceremonies, and Steven Spielberg was involved in the planning of the recent DNC. Hollywood has become an indelible part of US political culture.

Reagan, a former Hollywood actor, set new standards for how telegenic and entertaining presidents could be. Donald Trump may not be everyone’s idea of a great orator, but the former reality TV star is certainly a master of televised spectacles.

The tradition of preaching is an even deeper cultural source of US political rhetoric. With about 30% of Americans attending religious services regularly, the sermon is the most prevalent form of public speech in the US.

American preachers need to be compelling, given the level of religious competition, and church is where many future politicians first encounter the craft of public speaking. American political speeches often reflect the combination of uplift and warning found in preaching.

While evangelical Christianity is usually associated with the Republican Party, it is also in the DNA of Democrats because of the Civil Rights Movement and the black church. One of the standout speakers of the DNC was Georgia Senator Raphael Warnock, senior pastor of the same Baptist church in Atlanta where Martin Luther King Jr preached.

Warnock described Trump in biblical terms as a “plague on the American conscience”. But he also described a vote as “a kind of prayer for the world we desire for ourselves and for our children”.

Australia has no shortage of politicians who were raised as Christians and have Christian commitments. But unlike in the US, where even secular politicians must pay lip service to prayer, Christian politicians in Australia must adapt themselves to the secularism of Australian culture. This culture does not expect politicians to preach.

Strong speeches for weak parties

Michelle Grattan last week described Australian party conferences as “mind-numbing” compared with the “Hollywood extravaganzas” of their US counterparts.

But the spectacles at US party conventions testify to the weakness of American political parties. The Democratic and Republican National Committees have little power. Party organisations are localised and fragmented. They lack the central authority found in Australian parties, and the national convention every four years is the only time a nationwide party truly comes into existence.

Even in Congress, parties have few mechanisms for disciplining their members. Party leaders are forced to negotiate with their own side, not always successfully. Party conventions see an extravagant display of unity behind a newly nominated candidate. This is one of the few moments party unity is guaranteed.

While there is plenty of competition for power within Australian parties, in Australia it mostly takes place behind closed doors within party hierarchies. In the US, would-be legislators and executives need to campaign publicly to win the often brutal primary elections that earn them the party’s nomination.

Successful candidates must create their own personalised campaigns. They have help from local party organisations, which coordinate resources and volunteers, but they need much more than that. A candidate for national office must build their own coalition of donors that would dwarf anything a party could provide.

Hence the need for good speech-making. Competition for the attention of donors and voters is fierce, and a compelling speech is a vital way to stand out. This is especially true of candidates such as Barack Obama, who came from outside the party’s traditional power bases.

In Australia, inspirational speeches don’t have the same political currency. A system of strict party discipline, small preselection contests and short, relatively cheap election campaigns means candidates are rewarded more for other political skills.

The Australian advantage: debating

While a US politician might give a more entertaining stump speech than an Australian one, an Australian politician would probably perform better in any scenario that requires unscripted comments – especially a debate with an opponent.

Even superb US political orators can be underwhelming when they don’t have a script and a receptive audience. Congressional debates consist of prepared speeches with little direct engagement between opponents. There is no equivalent to Parliamentary Question Time, and holders of executive office (such as the president or state governors) aren’t even in the legislature.

Australian politicians may not be brilliant speech-makers, but they have a distinct advantage over their US counterparts when it comes to debating.
Lukas Coch/AAP

While Congressional committee hearings can sometimes provide a simulation of the rowdiness we associate with Question Time, the structure of Congress isn’t conducive to debate in the same way.

The physical format of Westminster parliaments, with opponents facing each other directly, attests to an adversarial nature that was there from the beginning. The power of Gillard’s “misogyny speech”, which went viral globally, came partly from the way she delivered it straight into Tony Abbott’s face.

US Congress was designed differently. The framers of the Constitution loathed the idea of factions, and imagined a legislature made up of representatives who would negotiate with each other to find consensus. Congress in turn would have to negotiate with the president, who would rarely need to engage publicly with its members.

This may explain why, despite the routine brilliance of convention speeches, US presidential debates are so tedious and forgettable. Commentators who try to hype these debates by citing “great moments” from past debates inevitably reach for the same ancient zinger, “you’re no Jack Kennedy”, delivered by forgotten vice-presidential candidate Lloyd Bentsen in 1988.

The sad reality is that the most memorable and consequential presidential debate in living memory is the one we just saw, where Joe Biden performed so badly he ended his hopes of a second presidency.

In the land of the scripted, the teleprompter is king. More

Given the days of political pageantry at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago have come to an end, it’s an opportune time to examine parallels to past conventions — particularly those in the Windy City, a locale that has long been the grounds for historic political coronations.

In the decades following Abraham Lincoln’s nomination in 1860, Chicago became a convention hotspot for both Republicans and Democrats. Politicians that include Theodore Roosevelt, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Richard Nixon and Bill Clinton were nominated as their parties’ presidential candidates in the city.

While the Republicans have held more conventions in Chicago to date, they haven’t held one there since 1960, when Nixon first ran for president. That’s likely because the state of Illinois is a longtime Democratic stronghold.

But whether they’ve been held in Chicago or elsewhere, Vanderbilt University historian Nicole Hemmer says conventions used to take place “in smoke-filled rooms by just the elites… [where] powerful party leaders needed to gather in the same place to decide who the nominee should be.”

Times have changed in the 21st century.

A new era

Those who oversaw this year’s Democratic National Convention included Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson, a former public school teacher and fierce advocate for racial equality.

Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson speaking on the first day of the Democratic National Convention on Aug. 19, 2024, in Chicago.
(AP Photo/J. Scott Applewhite)

There are few similarities between Johnson and former Chicago mayor Richard J. Daley, the pugilistic police supporter and Democratic Party kingmaker who notoriously ordered “shoot-to-kill” edicts on protesters at the 1968 Chicago convention.

With the ongoing war in Gaza, there were certain parallels between the 2024 convention and the 1968 event, since a major war is raging again halfway around the world.

But there are some key differences, most notably the fact that no U.S. ground troops are deployed in the region, notwithstanding many U.S. military bases located in places nearby.

2024 not as tumultuous as 1968

The whole world was watching the Democratic National Convention in 1968, but was that the case for either the Democratic or Republican conventions in 2024? And did Americans care as much as they did in 1968?

Thousands of demonstrators showed up to protest the Democratic convention in 1968, and hundreds were arrested. Protesters included predominantly white college students from the Students for a Democratic Society, sexually free “Yippies,” Black Panther Party members and Puerto Rican Young Lords.

All opposed police brutality and the war in Vietnam. Their demonstrations followed a tumultuous spring in Chicago, when its west side erupted in anger over racial inequality and the assassination of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Memphis, Tenn. The Republican convention in Miami earlier that summer, meanwhile, was largely peaceful and orderly.

Read more:
Kamala Harris chooses running mate in the heat of another long, hot summer in American politics

The year 1968 also saw the beginning of the Tet Offensive in Vietnam. Though a tactical defeat for the North Vietnamese fighting the U.S.-backed south, the offensive led to a tremendous amount of scrutiny about American tactics in the Vietnam War.

American GIs were increasingly coming home in body bags — 3,800 alone during the offensive. Along with the ongoing domestic unrest, the first few months of 1968 were exceedingly tumultuous — arguably much more chaotic than 2024.

Chicago police attempt to disperse demonstrators outside the Conrad Hilton, the downtown headquarters for the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in August 1968.
(AP Photo/Michael Boyer)

War as an issue: 1968 vs 2024

Thousands also descended upon Chicago in 2024 to protest America’s support of Israel’s attack on Gaza, but only dozens — not hundreds — were arrested by mid-week. The focus of the convention was not the war in Gaza.

By comparison, the 1968 Democratic convention was heavily focused on the Vietnam War, given the anti-war platforms of Democratic contender Eugene McCarthy and the late Robert F. Kennedy, the party front-runner who was assassinated down two months earlier following a campaign speech.

Hubert Humphrey addresses the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in August 1968.
(AP Photo)

Lyndon B. Johnson’s heir apparent, Hubert Humphrey, won the party’s nomination before later losing to Republican Richard Nixon in the 1968 presidential election. But the Vietnam War and its impact on American life remained on centre stage.

Kamala Harris’s candidacy, on the other hand, hasn’t dealt with any major internal party policy differences moving toward the election in November — and a stand-off with MAGA Republicans. And regardless of who wins in November, it isn’t likely the war in Gaza will be a major focal point for the American public — polls suggest inflation is by far their biggest concern.

Conventions have changed, but still matter

Conventions are certainly not decided by a bunch of white men smoking in closed rooms anymore. But even though representation has improved vastly from earlier eras, as well as more transparent processes of delegate selection and nominations, there can still be a sense that things have already been decided once conventions roll around.

In fact, since at least the 1970s, tickets have largely been determined before the conventions begin.

Both major parties in 2024 ran their conventions with the nominee already decided for all intents and purposes, though the Democrats cut it close by shifting dramatically to Harris earlier this summer after President Joe Biden, under pressure from the party, opted not to run for a second term.

Adlai Stevenson at the United Nations in New York City in February 1965.
(AP Photo)

The year 1952 was the last time a presidential nominee — Democrat Adlai Stevenson — needed more than one ballot for the nomination at the convention, held, once again, in Chicago.

He won in the third round of voting to become the nominee, but lost to Republican Dwight D. Eisenhower in the presidential election.

Still, contemporary observers argue that conventions are still important and allow for some political movements to make an impact.

Marquette University politics professor Julia Azari explains:

“If we look at the history of modern conventions, it’s tempting to dismiss the large, in-person gatherings of power players from around the country as pageantry. But if you look closer, you’ll notice that conventions have played an important role for some wings of the party, who may disagree with party leadership and want to attract media attention for themselves.”

She points to the critical 1964 Democratic convention, held in the midst of the Civil Rights era, when the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party (MFDP) challenged the all-white delegation from Mississippi, since Black people had been banned from party meetings in the state, where voting restrictions also prevented many from casting ballots in elections.

By the time the Democratic convention of 1968 rolled around, a group of former MFDP delegates succeeded at being the sole Mississippi delegates to the DNC.

Fannie Lou Hamer, a leader of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party, testifies before the credentials committee of the Democratic National Convention in August 1964.
(AP Photo)

Looking ahead

Sixty years later in 2024 and in the wake of both the Republican and Democratic conventions, similar movements that seek to end wars, address environmental catastrophe, fight for reproductive rights or end racial inequality will hopefully continue to find openings at conventions to have their voices heard.

Perhaps future conventions will run more virtually, as was the case in 2020 when both parties were forced to go entirely online due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Maybe there will be reforms to the primary system of selection or to campaign finance measures that are troublesome to some voters.

Either way, convention season will continue to both offend and excite those of us who follow politics closely as we consider the past, present and future of these critical events. More

People change their opinions. As my husband says, “I always reserve the right to get smarter,” paraphrasing Konrad Adenauer, the former chancellor of Germany.

But when politicians reverse course and change their opinions, political pundits, critics and others often call them out for lack of consistency, and might label them a flip-flopper, U-turner or backflipper.

Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump has been criticized for changing his mind on on everything from immigration policy to abortion, depending on who he is talking to and when.

Likewise, Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris has been accused of reversing her stances on private health insurance, fracking and other issues in order to win new voters.

Trump’s running mate, JD Vance, has drastically changed his mind over the past few years, as well. Before Trump was elected president in 2016, Vance publicly called him an “idiot” and privately compared him to Adolf Hitler – before going on to accept Trump’s offer to run for office together eight years later.

At the start of Democratic vice presidential nominee Tim Walz’s political career in 2007, he received an endorsement from the National Rifle Association for his support of gun rights. But Walz had what he called a “reckoning” after the 2018 Parkland high school shooting in Florida. He went on to support and approve gun safety measures as Minnesota governor.

Some voters demand that politicans’ beliefs should be stagnant, as if they were preserved in amber.

The reality is, as much as people sometimes forget, politicians are humans, too. They have all the same strengths and flaws as the rest of us. When I teach a course on the American presidency every fall, I often point out that perspective can change depending on which side of the desk someone is sitting on in the president’s office.

Hundreds of years of flip-flopping

Thomas Jefferson, the third U.S. president from 1801 through 1809, was a huge advocate for limited government when he ran for office in 1800. Jefferson and his anti-federalist allies called sitting president John Adams at one point a “royalist.” Jefferson accused people in the Federalist Party, who wanted a strong national government, of trying to set up a monarchy in the United States.

Before Jefferson became president, he embraced the idea of a very small national government with restricted powers. He emphasized the importance of strong state power and a very limited national budget.

However, once he was elected president, he was given the opportunity to buy 530 million acres in North America from France, in what we now call the Louisiana Purchase. This doubled the size of the U.S. by adding land from the Mississippi River to the Rocky Mountains.

Jefferson bought this land without input from Congress, demonstrating a stark reversal of his previous policy that de-emphasized the federal government.

Jefferson was aware of this conundrum and, in a letter to American politician Levi Lincoln in 1803, wrote, “The less is said about any constitutional difficulty, the better: and that it will be desirable for Congress to do what is necessary in silence.”

Jefferson knew that he was flip-flopping, but he also believed the Louisiana Purchase was in the country’s best interest.

George H.W. Bush delivers his State of the Union address in Washington in 1990.
Mark Reinstein/Corbis via Getty Images

To tax or not to tax?

Nearly two centuries later, George H.W. Bush ran for president in 1988. During the Republican National Convention that year, Bush wanted to draw a clear line between himself and Michael Dukakis, his Democratic opponent.

Dukakis had said he would raise federal taxes as a last resort. And Bush wanted to shore up conservative support. During his acceptance speech, Bush uttered the now famous phrase, “Read my lips: no new taxes.”

Unfortunately for Bush, the economic climate was not on his side. A slowing economy meant that, as president, Bush was forced to raise taxes – or else enact massive budget cuts that would be unacceptable to the Democrats controlling the House and Senate.

Still, some Republicans felt betrayed by Bush’s reversal.

Bush’s flip-flop on taxes is considered a large contributing factor to his loss in 1992 when he ran for reelection.

Donald Trump plays golf at a resort in Glasgow, Scotland, in July 2018.
Andy Buchanan/AFP via Getty Images

I did, before I didn’t

The term “flip-flopping” reached new heights of popularity during the 2004 presidential election. Republican presidential nominee George W. Bush – son of George H.W. Bush – and others pegged the Democratic rival, John Kerry, as a flip-flopper to help discredit him.

“You get a little dizzy if you listen to John Kerry explain his recent position on any particular issue at the time,” said Jeb Bush, brother of George W. Bush, in 2004. “There really is a tale of two Kerrys.”

Bush and other Republicans used the term to paint Kerry as a person who shifted positions with the wind for political gain. In March 2004, Kerry memorably said that,, with respect to his Senate votes on additional spending on the military, “I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it.”

Kerry was attempting to explain that he voted for an earlier, Democratic-proposed version of a military appropriations bill that would have given money to U.S. operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, paid for by reducing tax cuts. But this measure was defeated, and so Kerry voted against a different, final version of the bill to demonstrate his opposition to then-president George W. Bush’s Iraq policy.

This convoluted phrase became the defining moment of Kerry’s campaign, which ended in defeat.

Flip-flopping today

Trump has flip-flopped on issues, from the innocuous to the important, throughout his political career and it has done little to erode support from his most ardent followers.

After years of declaring that mail-in ballots are crooked and fraudulent, Trump now embraces them as an electoral strategy in 2024. Trump also changed his political party affiliation multiple times, and has been a Republican, independent and Democrat before switching back to being a Republican a few years before his 2016 campaign.

When Trump was running for president, he heavily criticized Barack Obama for playing golf as president. Obama ultimately played about 105 rounds of golf in his first term. Trump went to a golf club 285 times in the same period and played golf at least 142 times.

And while in 2019 Harris, then running for president, said that she would support a ban on fracking, she now opposes doing so.

She also then supported a broad government-run health insurance program and proposed having “Medicare for all.” Harris’ campaign has said in 2024 that she will not push for this kind of government health insurance.

Kamala Harris speaks to the media after a Democratic primary debate in June 2019 in Miami.
Saul Loeb/AFP via Getty Images

A political strategy

Flip-flopping is an easy slur to hurl at an opponent.

This can be a brilliant way to try to throw someone on the defensive while appearing to have clean hands yourself.

People evolve. Information changes. Hard choices have to be made for the good of the country. I think that we should all reserve the right to get smarter and, hopefully, better. More