Philippa Kaur

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

The Democratic Party has had a good week. I’ll start that again – the Democratic Party has had an amazingly good week.

Not so long ago, the Democrats seemed down, if not actually out. Now, they’re not merely pulling ahead in the polls – they seem to have recaptured that vital but elusive thing: hope.

Those inside the hall in Chicago for the Democratic National Convention were treated to a series of impressive and moving speeches from, among others, Barack and Michelle Obama, Hillary and Bill Clinton, Tim Walz and – yes – Joe Biden. The man so recently written off by many as a doddering geriatric was the star on the first night, as he passed on the flame to his vice-president, Kamala Harris.

The secret to these rhetorical triumphs lies in three words with origins in ancient Greece: ethos, pathos and logos. The meanings are simple but crucial to successful oratory – as the famed Greek philosopher Aristotle first pointed out in The Art Of Rhetoric.

As deployed by Aristotle, ethos refers to character – both the moral character of the speaker and, as we develop the idea further, the aspersions cast on the character of his or her opponent.

We saw this in the homely presentation of vice-presidential candidate “Coach” Walz, who presented himself as a father, a neighbour, and the giver of pre-match pep talks. And we saw it in Michelle Obama’s attacks on Donald Trump, whom she portrayed as a purveyor of misogynistic, racist lies. She argued that Trump’s narrow view of the world made him feel threatened by the existence of two hard-working, highly educated, successful people who happen to be black. She at once exposed Trump’s character while building up her and her husband’s success – without appearing too boastful.

Pathos signifies emotion – anything that makes your audience feel good about themselves or generates negative emotions about people outside the group. Pete Buttigieg, the transport secretary, demonstrated mastery of this technique when he attacked Trump’s deputy, J.D. Vance, for suggesting that political leaders without children (such as Harris) lack a physical stake in the country’s future.

Buttigieg, a former naval officer, pointed out that when he deployed to Afghanistan, he didn’t have kids. “Some of the men and women who went outside the wire with me did not have kids,” he continued, “but let me tell you, our commitment to the future of this country was nothing if not physical.”

This was a powerful way of generating feelings of patriotism, and linking them to personal sacrifice.

Last but not least is logos, which signifies reason. This doesn’t necessarily mean arguments that are well-founded in logic, but rather an appeal to a sense of fact-based argumentation. Here, Bill Clinton won the prize, showing (as he has so often done before) that figures and statistics don’t have to be dry.

Bill Clinton addresses the Democratic National Convention, August 21 2024.

Quoting US employment numbers, Clinton quipped that he had to check them three times. Since the end of the cold war in 1989, he said, the US has created about 51 million new jobs: “Even I couldn’t believe it. What’s the score? Democrats: 50, Republicans: one.”

This statistic is indeed correct – even if it would have benefitted from more context to explain what at first sight look like improbable numbers.

American dream

In all, it’s been a series of remarkable performances – and I haven’t even mentioned Oprah Winfrey, Illinois governor J.B. Pritzker, or the presidential nominee herself.

Presenting herself as “no stranger to unlikely journeys”, Harris said her path from being the daughter of immigrant students to becoming vice-president was a tale that “could only be written in the greatest nation on Earth”. It was a classic example of linking plucky underdog personal storytelling to the broader narrative of American exceptionalism.

Kamala Harris addresses the Democratic National Convention, August 22 2024.

Collectively, the convention speakers, while making it look effortless, succeeded in achieving a very difficult balance – that is, the balance between hope and fear.

For a long time, Democrats have, with justification, focused on the threat that Trump poses to the future of democracy. Yet, as the experience of the Remain side in the 2016 Brexit referendum showed, a rational case highlighting the dangers posed by the other side is not in itself enough to mobilise popular enthusiasm. It has to be matched with optimism and a credible-sounding plan to build a better future for the country.

Democrats haven’t given up on warning about Trump, but they are doing this more effectively than before, by labelling him as “weird”. At the same time, they are offering a positive message of progress, as well as appearing energised and, frankly, a lot more fun to be with than the increasingly dark-seeming GOP.

However, it shouldn’t be imagined that the political party’s fortunes can be transformed merely by skilful manipulation of some classical rhetorical terms. The Democrats wouldn’t be in their current happy situation were it not for Biden’s bold, if belated, decision not to run for a second term.

So, if Harris wins in November, she may have reason to credit another ancient Greek concept: kairos. This is the thing that every politician wants to arrive for them, and then to exploit – it means “the opportune moment”. More

Young people could decide the 2024 presidential election.

It’s a tale as old as time – a story that pops up every election, almost like clockwork.

The narrative is the same this election cycle. There is a palpable excitement about the possibility of young people making their voices heard in 2024.

Young people, in particular, have broadly voiced their support for Vice President Kamala Harris, who will officially accept her party’s presidential nomination at the Democratic National Convention on Aug. 22, 2024.

Harris’ young supporters have created popular TikTok videos and widely-shared memes with coconut trees and ample allusions to the trendy term “brat.”

Both former President Donald Trump and Harris are trying to build on young people’s excitement – through participating in livestreams with popular, young content creators and by copying some of the specific colors and themes that often come up in young people’s online content.

The vibes suggest, perhaps, that a “youth wave” is coming.

Donald Trump looks to young supporters as he holds a rally in Grand Rapids, Mich., on July 20, 2024.
Bill Pugliano/Getty Images

Young people mostly support Harris

At present, Harris holds a commanding lead among young people.

Depending on the poll that you look at, if the election were held today, Harris would probably command about 50% to 60% of the youth vote, meaning people ages 18 to 29, or in some cases 18 to 34.

Trump would pull in only about 34% of young people.

That’s a big difference. A person might see that difference and think that young people could, indeed, tip the scales at the ballot box in November.

Knowing exactly how many young voters Harris needs to win over to carry the election is difficult, but many political pundits have argued that Harris needs to make sure that she secures a dominant majority of them.

But regardless of whether they support Harris in preelection polling, my research finds that many young people aren’t likely to show up and actually cast their ballots.

Young people often don’t vote

Young citizens’ track record of participation in American elections is dismal. Although young people are the biggest group of citizens who are eligible to vote, they turn out at significantly lower rates than older Americans.

In the November 2022 midterms, for instance, only 25.5% of 18- to 29-year-olds cast a ballot, whereas 63.1% of those age 60 or older voted.

Though November 2020 set records for youth voter turnout, only 52.5% of 18- to 29-year-olds cast a ballot, compared with 78% of those 60 or older.

While it’s hard to know how many young people will cast a ballot in November 2024, early indicators – such as the number of young people who say they plan to cast a ballot – suggest that this pattern of low youth voter turnout will continue.

The United States has one of the lowest rates of youth voter turnout in the world. The gap between 18- to 29-year-olds and those over 60, a common measuring stick, is more than twice as large here than it is in other countries such as Canada or Germany.

In our 2020 book, “Making Young Voters: Converting Civic Attitudes into Civic Action,” political scientist Sunshine Hillygus and I tried to better understand what stops young people from voting and what can be done to change this trend.

Why more young people don’t vote

Two main hurdles stand in the way of young people casting a ballot. One problem is that young people are not especially interested in voting. In recent polls, for example, about 77% of young people say that they plan on definitely voting in the upcoming November election.

For older citizens, that number is 90%.

However, a second – and a perhaps more consequential – problem is that young people who are interested in voting often don’t follow through on their intentions.

By examining survey data and conducting interviews with dozens of young people in 2018, Hillygus and I found that many young people lack confidence in themselves and their ability to navigate the voting process for the first time.

Many told us that in their busy, hectic and ever-changing schedules, voting often simply falls by the wayside.

With school and work commitments, as well as a lack of experience filling out voter registration forms and casting a ballot, voting seems like an insurmountable burden for many young people.

Supporters of Kamala Harris and Tim Walz look on during a campaign event at Temple University in Philadelphia on Aug. 6, 2024.
Andrew Harnik/Getty Images

What works to increase youth voter turnout

A common assumption of many youth advocacy groups seems to be that more young people would vote if voting were considered cool. We’ve seen that approach again this cycle, with advocates clamoring, for example, for celebrity endorsements from the likes of singer Taylor Swift.

The problem is that this approach doesn’t square with the fact that young people care about politics – they just struggle to follow through.

The biggest hurdle for many young people, in particular, is voter registration. In 2022, data from the U.S. Census Bureau shows that only 40% of young people said they were registered to vote in the midterm election.

Programs that help young people register to vote can be particularly effective at getting them to cast a ballot.

It has also become increasingly common for political campaigns to help young adults make a plan to vote – by outlining when and where they are going to vote, as well as how they will get to their polling location.

Other methods, such as sending text message reminders, creating automated calendar reminders and offering transportation to the polls, are also effective at helping young people who want to vote actually do so. Though some of these strategies are being used in the 2024 election, many are not common.

Government policies that make registering to vote and casting a ballot easier would also increase youth voter turnout.

Same-day voter registration is particularly effective at encouraging young people to vote. Likewise, letting 16- and 17-year-olds preregister to vote before they turn 18 can also substantially increase the number of voters under 30. At present, 21 states, including California, Massachusetts, Florida and Louisiana, let 16- and 17-year-olds preregister to vote.

Our research suggests that when states implement these types of reforms, they close the gap between older and younger voters by about a third.

There is some evidence that Harris has reinvigorated the youth vote.

Whether young citizens will show up and deliver the presidency to Harris or stay home and yield to Trump remains to be seen. More

Donald Trump suggested he was open to revoking access to the abortion pill if he won the presidential race, after being asked by a reporter last Thursday if he would “revoke access” to the drug. The following day, Trump’s campaign office said he didn’t hear the question properly.

Trump’s running mate, JD Vance, has since said abortion policy should be made by the states and the pair want to “make sure that any medicine is safe, that it is prescribed in the right way”. But it’s unclear exactly what this means for American women’s future access to abortion.

The abortion drug they’re talking about is mifepristone, otherwise known as RU486.

Mifepristone is one of the medications used in a medical abortion. It acts by blocking the effect of progesterone, one of the hormones important to the development of a pregnancy.

The second medication involved is misoprostol, which contracts and empties the uterus.

In Australia these two medicines are prescribed in a combination pack called MS-2 Step which is registered for use in women up to nine weeks of pregnancy.

What happens during a medical abortion?

When a woman undergoes a medical abortion, she first swallows the mifepristone tablet. This blocks a hormone called progesterone, which is needed for the pregnancy to continue. This might result in some spotting or bleeding.

Between 36 and 48 hours later, she places the misoprostol in her cheek and lets it dissolve.

Strong cramps and bleeding will start and it will feel like a very heavy period with blood clots and tissue being passed. This is the lining of the uterus and the pregnancy being shed.

Doctors often prescribe anti-nausea pills and pain relief medications to deal with these symptoms.

The whole process is like having a miscarriage and usually lasts between two and six hours.

Once the pregnancy has passed, symptoms start to settle. Women will continue to bleed like a normal period for about five days, and some lighter bleeding may continue for between ten days to a month.

Medical abortion is safe and works more than 98% of the time when carried out early on in a pregnancy. There is only a 0.4% risk of a serious complication such as an infection or haemorrhage requiring hospitalisation or transfusion.

If a woman has very heavy bleeding (passing clots bigger than a small lemon or filling or soaking through two or menstrual pads per hour for more than two hours in a row), she should go to the emergency department because of the small but serious risk of haemorrhage.

If she develops a fever over 38 degrees, she may have developed an infection and should contact her health-care provider.

Women should also do a follow up blood test seven days after taking the MS-2 Step to make sure the abortion was successful.

What are the other options?

While medical abortion is rapidly becoming the most common way to have an abortion early in the pregnancy, it is not the method of choice for all women.

And it’s not suitable for everyone, especially those without support, such as homeless women or those experiencing domestic violence.

For some women, surgical abortion might be their method of choice or a better option. It can be helpful to use a decision aid, which sets out the pros and cons of each method.

When did Australians get access?

Like everywhere else in the world, having medical abortion available in Australia has enabled women to access an abortion when they previously wouldn’t have been able to.

Prior to its introduction in Australia in 2012, abortions were carried out surgically, requiring a one-day stay in a hospital or surgical facility, and an anaesthetic.

Read more:
Arrival of RU486 in Australia a great leap forward for women

Surgical abortions were then – and still are – difficult to access. Unlike surgical procedures such as knee replacements or having your appendix removed, surgical abortions are not always provided in public hospital settings, especially hospitals run by faith-based organisations.

For women living in rural areas, this has been a big problem. Many surgical providers of abortion are located in metropolitan settings and many women have felt judged and stigmatised or had barriers put in their way by doctors who did not believe in a woman’s right to choose.

Now a woman can receive a prescription for MS-2 Step through her local doctor and undergo a medical abortion in the comfort of her own home.

If her local doctor doesn’t provide this service, she can consult a doctor who does via telehealth. Medicare provides rebates for consultations related to sexual and reproductive health issues carried out either over the phone or via online video. Unlike most other telehealth consultations, for sexual and reproductive health issues, you don’t need to have seen the GP face-to-face in the last 12 months to get a rebate.

This means a woman who is living in Western Australia, for example, can have a consultation with a doctor in Queensland and receive a prescription for MS-2 Step via text message or email.

She can then go to her local pharmacy to have the medication dispensed, undergo the medical abortion at home and then have her follow up consultation again via telehealth a couple of weeks later.

What’s the situation in America?

In America, when the Supreme Court overturned Roe Vs Wade in 2022, it removed women’s constitutional right to abortion, allowing many states to introduce bans on abortions. This meant many clinics providing surgical abortions closed down.

The availability of mifepristone has, however, meant that women have been able to bypass these state-based laws and obtain medical abortion pills via telehealth or online through services like Plan C or Women on Web.

If Donald Trump wins the election and restricts access to mifepristone, American women’s options will become even more limited and they may resort to unsafe abortion methods. Restricting access to abortion never stops it, it just drives it underground and makes it less safe. More

“Donald was pissed. Boy, was he pissed.”

This is how Fred C. Trump III describes the moment, sometime in the early 1970s, when his uncle, Donald J. Trump, “came stomping” back into the family home in Queens, New York.

As Fred III puts it in his memoir, All In The Family, he had spent a bucolic day

kicking a soccer ball in the backyard before taking a break for a Coke with Gam. Just a normal afternoon for preteen me. Yet I remember it like it was yesterday because of what happened next.

It turns out Donald wanted his nearly ten-year-old nephew to take a look at the car parked in the driveway: his white convertible Cadillac Eldorado. There was “a giant gash, at least two feet long, in the canvas roof. There was another, shorter gash next to it.”

Review: All In The Family: The Trumps and How We Got This Way – Fred C. Trump III (Simon & Schuster)

Fred remembers his uncle, in a fit of pique, uttering the N-word twice in quick succession – without proof of his accusations, nor regard for the impact of his words:

Donald hadn’t seen whoever had done this. […] He returned to where he’d left his beloved Eldorado, saw the damage, then went straight to the place where people’s minds sometimes go when they face a fresh affront.

Having made it clear he has no time for such language, Fred turns to the elephant in the room. “So, was Donald a racist?”

Racially charged remarks

Stephen Chueng, Trump’s 2024 presidential electoral campaign spokesperson, clearly doesn’t think so. In a recent statement to ABC News, Cheung flatly refuted Fred III’s claims, dismissing them as fabricated and “fake news of the highest order”.

Moreover, in Cheung’s performatively outraged estimation, it simply beggars belief that “a lie so blatantly disgusting can be printed in media”. He continues: “Anyone who knows President Trump knows he would never use such language, and false stories like this have been thoroughly debunked.”

This rings a bit hollow, given Trump’s racially charged remarks about Kamala Harris’s ethnicity at the National Association of Black Journalists convention. “I didn’t know she was Black until a number of years ago when she happened to turn Black and now she wants to be known as Black. So, I don’t know, is she Indian or is she Black?”

And today, from a Mar-a-Lago press conference, Trump said of his presidential opponent: “Well … uh, she’s a woman. She represents certain groups of people.”

Donald Trump suggested Kamala Harris ‘happened to turn Black’ at the National Association of Black Journalists convention.
Charles Rex Arbogast/AAP

Indeed, as Jennifer Ho points out, Trump’s comments, which evoke memories of his “birtherism” attacks on Barack Obama, “tapped into the long history of racism in America, where some white people have defined racial categories and policed the boundaries of race”.

In any case, Cheung surely hasn’t spent much time with Trump’s onetime political advisor, cheerleader (and convicted felon) Steve Bannon. According to journalist Michael Wolff, Bannon believed his former employer wasn’t antisemitic, but “he was much less confident that Trump wasn’t a racist. He had not heard Trump use the N-word but could easily imagine him doing so.”

In the end, Fred hedges his bets. “This was Queens in the early 1970s,” he insists:

Back then, people said all kinds of crude, thoughtless, prejudiced things. I don’t need to list them here. In one way or another, maybe everyone in Queens was a racist then. Like many things in life, it was partly a matter of situation and degree.

Not like his sister

Fred C. Trump III.
Simon & Schuster

Equivocations of this sort are the order of the day in Fred’s frustrating, yet undeniably heartfelt account of the Trump clan. It comes four years after the publication of Too Much and Never Enough: How My Family Created the World’s Most Dangerous Man (2020), written by Fred’s younger sister, Mary L. Trump.

Mary’s score-settling invective did not go down well with the Trumps. Fred acknowledges this in the closing sections of his book. The collective reaction was unbridled fury. Fred’s uncle, Robert, attempted to block the publication of Mary’s book, citing a breach of confidentiality.

Fred is at pains to distinguish his take on things from that of his sister. “The book was Mary’s point of view, which she had every right to. It just wasn’t mine.”

Mary Trump.
Simon & Schuster

Unlike Mary, Fred is determined, in spite of everything, to maintain vaguely cordial relations with the rest of the Trumps. In part, this explains the measured approach and tone of his memoir, which is characterised by a curious mix of cliché, cruelty and compassion.

While it doesn’t contain all that much in the way of revelatory material or insight, it does offer a fresh perspective on the dynamics of a family whose name has, for better or worse, somehow become inextricably linked with the fate of a nation. “As go the Trumps,” Fred argues, “so goes America.”

Fred is all too aware that he has a name “that is extraordinarily polarizing, and keeps getting more so”. He also appreciates that his book has the potential to ruffle family feathers:

Things could be tense on the gold course the next time Uncle Donald rolls up in his cart. And I am certainly a flawed messenger. I have my faults – many of them. Who doesn’t in this family … or any other? The difference between me and my relatives is that none of them will admit that, and I just did.

‘A win was a win was a win’

The family portrait he paints is far from flattering. “Who planted the seeds of narcissism? When did winning become everything? How did Trump loyalty become such a one-way street?”

These are some of the questions Fred poses at the outset of his memoir, which opens on the day of his grandfather’s funeral. “My father’s father was the Trump who first defined what it meant to be a Trump,” Fred says, “long before Uncle Donald marched the family name into Manhattan and gave it that shiny 1980s glow”.

Fred’s grandfather, with whom he shares a first name, “was an old-style patriarch, presiding over a large, rambunctious family, whose members he managed to dominate and sometimes pit against each other”. Moreover, in Fred’s reckoning, it is impossible to explain the personalities of his grandfather’s five children without understanding “what he did for – and to – each of them”.

Fred Trump I (right, beside wife Mary Trump, who’s between him and Donald) was ‘was an old-style patriarch’ who liked to sometimes pit his family members against each other.
Charles Rex Arbogast/AAP

Much like his domineering father, Donald Trump, “whose ferocious ambition and drive had to compensate for a lack of compassion, subtlety, and book smarts”, has a tendency to view life as a series of zero-sum conflicts and cash grabs. From an early age, Fred understood that to his uncle

a win was a win was a win, whether or not the other person even knew the game was on. There was nothing that couldn’t be turned into a competition and nothing more satisfying than yet another win. And for Donald to be the winner, someone else had to lose.

‘Maybe you should just let him die’

As a case in point, Fred gestures to the ferocious dispute that erupted over his grandfather’s will in 1999. All In The Family details how his Uncle Donald, who had recently suffered a number of massive financial hits, spearheaded not one, but two attempts to cut Fred and Mary out of the Trump estate.

Discovering they had been effectively disinherited, the siblings, as Fred recounts, launched legal action. To say the response – led again by Uncle Donald – to the lawsuit was callous would be underselling things. Fred recalls receiving word that his medical insurance, which his grandfather had provided to all of the family, was being cut off:

Of all the cruel, low-down, vicious, heartless things my own relatives could do to me, my wife, and my children, this was worse than anything else I could possibly imagine. Which, I suppose was the point.

It was the worst thing the Trumps could possibly do because Fred’s youngest child, William, who was born in 1999, has a lifelong neurological disability and requires full-time medical care and assistance.

This brings us to what is arguably the most callous and contentious moment in Fred’s memoir. Decades later, having settled the lawsuit and somehow managed to make peace with his family’s actions, Fred describes how, over the course of a phone call with his uncle (by now US president), the issue of William’s ongoing medical expenses were brought up.

He recalls his uncle taking a second to assess the situation, before letting out a sigh and telling him that William “doesn’t recognize you. Maybe you should just let him die and move down to Florida.”

Shocking as that statement is, the most depressing thing is that Donald Trump, who, as Fred acknowledges, had long contributed to William’s medical expenses, doubles down.

In 2020, Fred Trump visited the White House with fellow advocates for people with developmental and intellectual disabilities. After the Oval Office meeting had finished and the visitors had left, Donald called Fred back to the room. He was cheerful. Fred imagined he was “touched by what the doctor and advocates in the meeting had just shared”.

But then his uncle said: “These people … the shape they’re in, all the expenses, maybe those kinds of people should just die.” Horrified, Fred reflects: “He was talking about expenses. We were talking about human lives.”

Little wonder, then, that Fred says he’ll vote for Harris in November. More

If the Yippies – a group of young activists known for political dissent – had their way, Americans would have elected a 145-pound pig named Pigasus as president in 1968.

The Yippies were famous for their unconventional tactics and were at the heart of the 1960s counterculture movement in the U.S. They demanded that Pigasus be treated as a legitimate candidate with Secret Service protection and foreign policy briefings.

Police arrested several Yippies for disorderly conduct after they paraded Pigasus outside the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Pigasus was taken into “protective custody” by police and eventually wound up at a farm.

Since the first Democratic National Convention in 1832, the event has had a long and storied history with headline-grabbing moments – some of which have left a mark in politics.

The Democratic Party will next converge at its convention in Chicago, Aug. 19-22, 2024. Vice President Kamala Harris and Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz will officially accept their party’s nomination as the Democratic candidates for president and vice president.

As a scholar of the presidency, I think it is useful to remember that national political conventions often function like pep rallies, leading up to the big game of the general presidential election. These conventions can be places where new faces are launched, or they can be so dull that the country is functionally put to sleep. Here are a few of the more memorable moments to emerge from a Democratic National Convention.

The Yippies gather with a pig named Pigasus outside the Democratic National Convention in August 1968 in Chicago.
Bettmann/Getty Images

A first lady steps into the spotlight

In 1940, Eleanor Roosevelt became the first first lady to ever address the Democratic National Convention.

Democrats at the convention were divided over both the U.S.’s participation in World War II and the prospect of nominating Franklin Delano Roosevelt, or FDR, as he was known, to a third term. No president had served more than two terms at this point. It was about a decade before the 22nd Amendment was ratified and became part of the Constitution, restricting presidents to two terms in office.

FDR was trying to break a two-term presidency tradition that started with George Washington.

Eleanor Roosevelt got up in front of the contentious and squabbling convention and said, “This is no ordinary time. No time for weighing anything except what we can do best for the country as a whole, and that responsibility rests on each and every one of us as individuals.”

Eleanor Roosevelt’s influential speech helped reframe the first lady as a powerful advocate for the president, without being simply a mouthpiece for him. Her depiction of 1940 as “no ordinary time” helped people accept that the country was facing an extraordinary moment in history that needed consistent leadership.

Roosevelt won another two terms and went on to serve as president until his death in 1945 during his fourth term.

Eleanor Roosevelt addresses the Democratic National Convention in July 1940, becoming the first first lady to speak during a national public convention.
Bettmann/Getty Images

A fresh vision

Years later, when John F. Kennedy accepted the nomination at the Democratic National Convention in 1960, he said that voters needed to choose “between national greatness and national decline.” Kennedy’s speech, known as the “New Frontier,” helped show voters that a Kennedy presidency could overcome problems with a forward-looking vision.

“Today our concern must be with that future. For the world is changing. The old era is ending. The old ways will not do,” Kennedy said.

Kennedy also called for a new America that was not weighed down by nostalgia.

Texas politician Ann Richards also supercharged her career with a Democratic National Convention keynote address in 1988. Her speech, funny and sharp, was also a commentary on the growing role of women in politics – and what an achievement it represented.

In her opening words, Richards talked about Fred Astaire, one of the most famous Hollywood movie stars in the 1930s, as well as Ginger Rogers, his co-star and dance partner.

“Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels,” Richards said.

Richards skewered the perception that Astaire was the bigger star by pointing out Rogers was every bit as capable and talented – and even did it in uncomfortable shoes.

At the time, Richards was the treasurer of Texas. But her witty speech propelled her into the national spotlight and helped her become governor of Texas in 1991.

The introduction of hope

In 2004, Barack Obama, then a 43-year-old Illinois state senator, launched himself on the national scene with his speech at the Democratic National Convention.

Obama gave a passionate speech paying tribute to his background, stating, “I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and that, in no other country on earth, is my story even possible.”

And he offered a self-deprecating observation, saying the country embodied “the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too. The audacity of hope!” These ideas of hope and unity later became key hallmarks of Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign.

Obama’s speech outshone the 2004 Democratic presidential candidate, John Kerry, and helped position him as the party’s rising star. News commentator Chris Matthews noted after Obama’s speech, “We’ve just seen the first black president.”

Michelle Obama addresses the Democratic National Convention in August 2008.
Associated Press

A political blunder

Some speeches are so memorable, they are even recycled.

Michelle Obama, the wife of then-Sen. Barack Obama, memorably stressed the importance of dignity and hard work in her speech at the 2008 Democratic National Convention – the convention at which her husband was formally nominated for president. Obama said that she and Barack were raised with the same values: “That you work hard for what you want in life; that your word is your bond and you do what you say you’re going to do; that you treat people with dignity and respect even if you don’t know them, and even if you don’t agree with them.”

Melania Trump heavily paraphrased this speech in her 2016 Republican National Committee speech. She, too, said that her parents raised her with values – “that you work hard for what you want in life, that your word is your bond and you do what you say and keep your promise, that you treat people with respect.”

Trump’s speechwriter, Meredith McIver, took responsibility for the blunder, since she thought the draft speech shared with her contained Melania’s words. But in reality, Trump had given her Obama’s speech as an idea for what she wanted incorporated in her own speech.

Potential for magic

I believe that national party conventions matter only for moments of mistake or magic. While these events are supposed to motivate voters and help reach out to the undecided, modern conventions more often are uninspired echo chambers of blather.

They do little to sway swing voters and only offer confirmation to voters already committed to their choice. Everyone in the audience is there to cheer and be energized by their home team.

Moments of greatness are far and few between at national conventions. But when lightning strikes, it can turn a phrase into an iconic moment that encapsulates an entire era. More