It wasn’t a political speech for the ages. It wasn’t even the best of the convention (no one can compete with the Obamas). But Kamala Harris did enough in her speech accepting the Democratic presidential nomination on Thursday to put an exclamation point on one of the most dramatic turnarounds in modern political history.
And she made you wonder why you wouldn’t want to be Donald Trump, the one facing her in next month’s televised debate. A speech that was short on policy and poetry, it was nonetheless devastating in its denunciation of the threat posed by Mar-a-Lago. Trump can expect the same kind of interrogation when the two go head-to-head that would make most mortals shudder.
Just over a month after Joe Biden left the race and passed the baton to her, this was the most important speech of Harris’ career, as she sought to build on the momentum of massive crowds, record fundraising and viral social media phenomena. Long in the shadow of Biden as vice president, the main goal was to familiarize the American public with the idea that President Harris would appear on their screens on a regular basis.
Related: Kamala Harris vows to chart ‘a new path forward’ as she accepts nomination
The Democratic National Convention in Chicago had done a great job in that regard, with four days of energetic speakers praising Harris as an everyday woman driven by service and fighting injustice, who understood the struggles of the middle class. Confident, graceful, powerful and charismatic, she was the icing on the cake, though it may not have been a substantial meal in itself.
Every seat was filled at the United Center, home of the Chicago Bulls basketball team. Some delegates were turned away at the door. Inside: a sea of humanity from all 50 states, multiracial and multigenerational, from teenagers voting for the first time to older party stalwarts who thought they’d seen it all, some in their best suits and ties, others casual in T-shirts and regalia. Scattered among them were TV crews and photographers, security guards and flight attendants. The mood: eager, expectant, ecstatic, determined to blow the roof off.
Dressed in navy blue and smiling broadly, Harris took the blue-carpeted stage at 9:31 p.m. to loud cheers. She watched as thousands of tall, narrow “Kamala” signs bounced and wristbands flashed red, white and blue in the darkness. She also watched, in the front row, her husband Doug Emhoff and stepdaughter Ella Emhoff wiped tears from their eyes as the chants of “Kamala! Kamala!” and “USA! USA!” continued.
Following the familiar script of so many nominees before her, Harris has crafted a personal biography that is human and tender. She embraces patriotism and America’s unique character, and promises to be a president for all Americans, regardless of their political leanings.
But she stepped up her prosecution of Trump. Recalling how Trump led an armed mob to the U.S. Capitol to overturn his election defeat, she warned: “Imagine Donald Trump without any guardrails. How he would use the immense power of the presidency of the United States. Not to improve your life. Not to enhance our national security. But to serve the only client he’s ever had: himself.”
And in a chapter on foreign policy, Harris vowed: “I will not curry favor with tyrants and dictators like Kim Jong-un, who support Trump because they know he is easily manipulated with flattery and favors… In the ongoing battle between democracy and tyranny, I know where I stand—and where the United States of America belongs.”
Harris’s rise was surprising. Some observers wondered: How could a seemingly stumbling vice president, dishing up word salads and an even lower approval rating than Biden, burst onto the scene like no one since the heyday of Barack Obama?
There are three answers. First, there is Democratic relief that she is not the 81-year-old Biden, whose miserable debate performance in June suggested he was edging toward inevitable defeat.
Harris, 59, immediately neutralized the Republicans’ age argument and used it as a weapon against them (Trump is 78, the oldest nominee in history). She enjoys the best of both worlds, improbably acting as both an incumbent and a change agent at the same time.
Second, it turns out that Harris, like many women of color before her, was underestimated and underrated all along. Yes, she had a bumpy first year with staff departures and uninspiring interviews about southern border security. But Biden allies now recognize that she was vulnerable and that they could have done more to help her.
Related: Kamala Harris’ big moment and a message of hope: Key lessons from the final night of the Democratic convention
Anita Dunn, a former senior adviser to Biden, told the Washington Post newspaper: “I didn’t feel like we served her as well as we could have in the beginning — and not out of malice, not because people didn’t want her to succeed. There wasn’t that level of understanding that she’s judged differently, that she’s treated differently. Most vice presidents don’t get treated the same way she does, with the same level of oversight.”
But when the Supreme Court’s right-wing majority overturned Roe v Wade in 2022, guaranteeing the constitutional right to abortion, Harris found her calling—and her voice. She toured the country to hone her message, often addressing college students under the radar of the national media. She steadily built alliances that are now coming into play. None of them were surprised when she immediately got to work, making confident campaign rallies.
Third, politics is about timing, and Harris seems like the right candidate at the right time. In 2016, Trump’s populism resonated with working-class fears, grievances, and resentments. In 2020, Biden’s empathy and personal experience of grief met the moment of the coronavirus pandemic. In 2024, Harris offers a Trump-weary nation joy instead of fear, exuberance instead of gloom, smiles instead of frowns. She comes with the promise of making America fun again.
“With this election, our nation has a precious, fleeting opportunity to move beyond the bitterness, the cynicism and the divisive battles of the past,” Harris told the convention. “A chance to find a new way forward. Not as members of a party or a faction, but as Americans.”
These factors help explain why Harris has surged in the polls in her first month. But that was the easy part. As both former Presidents Obama and Bill Clinton warned during the convention, the election is far from over: Energy must be converted into votes. A sugar rush is not enough.
The pressure will mount on Harris to get more specific on policy, which could give Republicans a target, and to explain her shifting positions on many issues — what is Harris-ism? Can she bask in the Biden administration’s historic legislative achievements while shedding her boss’s negative baggage?
There are already signs of a shift: Where Biden has talked about jobs and GDP growth, Harris has talked about the cost of living; where Biden has relentlessly focused on Trump’s threat to democracy, Harris has emphasized “freedom,” even using a Beyoncé song; where Biden has painted Trump as a vast, devilish figure, this week’s convention has ridiculed his smallness, his ridiculousness, and yes, his strangeness.
Then there was the Gaza issue, which had caused all the conventions to simmer. Harris carefully articulated his strong support for Israel’s right to defend itself, but also a vision of a future in which the Palestinian people “can realise their right to dignity, security, freedom and self-determination”. The conventional room erupted in prolonged cheers.
As a lawyer in San Francisco, Harris will inevitably face accusations of elitism from Republicans, much as Hillary Clinton did eight years ago, compounded by her dismissal of Trump supporters as “deplorables.” The convention has worked hard to offset that by emphasizing Harris’ modesty, including working shifts at McDonald’s, and her support of unions.
Harris said Thursday: “It was mostly my mother who raised us. Before she could finally afford a house, she rented a small apartment in the East Bay. In the Bay, you either live in the hills or the plains. We lived in the flats — a beautiful working-class neighborhood with firefighters, nurses, construction workers, all of whom took pride in tending their lawns.”
Her Midwestern running mate, Tim Walz, a former professor whose students did not go to Yale, peppered his speech Wednesday with references to his time coaching the state football team.
And in an era when identity politics have become dirty words, Harris made no reference to the historic nature of her candidacy as the first black woman and the first Asian American person to be nominated by a major party. It was a far cry from Clinton eight years ago and her promise to break “that highest, hardest glass ceiling.”
Harris’ speech lasted 37 minutes — a little more than a third of Trump’s speech at the Republican convention last month. There was no particularly memorable line, but no matter. Stars and Stripes waved through the crowd. A cascade of red, white and blue balloons and confetti descended. “Kamala” and “DNC 2024” flashed on digital screens.
Harris, who hasn’t put a foot wrong since Biden dropped out, was joined onstage by Emhoff, the Walzes and other family members. While the Republican convention felt like a cult of personality, this felt like a collective effort.
“Now,” tweeted David Plouffe, a senior adviser to the Harris campaign, “let’s go win this damn thing.”
