Kamala Harris’ campaign was poised for a moment of triumph. The vice president had the opportunity to connect with a critical audience—an enthusiastic panel of women who represented the core of her support base. It should have been the kind of moment that played perfectly into her campaign narrative, energizing her supporters just when they needed it most.
However, when Harris was asked on The View what, if anything, she would have done differently from President Biden in the past four years, her response fell flat. “There is not a thing that comes to mind,” she said, leading to an awkward silence. In a subsequent attempt to clarify, she offered to put a Republican in her Cabinet, but the damage was done. The question, intended to highlight potential differences between her and Biden, underscored a deeper issue within her campaign: her hesitance to differentiate herself from the president she served under.
This moment was just one of many signs of trouble for Harris, whose campaign was already struggling. October had been a challenging month, replacing the early excitement of the summer with a more listless tone. By that point, aides who had once pushed Harris to take more risks found themselves facing resistance. Her confidence seemed to wane, and she became increasingly cautious, losing the assertive energy that had marked her earlier appearances.
As the election approached, Harris’ campaign faced internal turmoil and missteps that could not be ignored. Campaign aides and volunteers, many of whom spoke anonymously, reflected on a race that had seen diminishing returns despite significant effort. Internal polls indicated that voters were frustrated with the country’s direction and hungry for change. Yet, at a pivotal moment, Harris failed to present herself as the leader of that change.
While Biden’s administration had enjoyed a recovery in approval ratings, the need for fresh leadership was palpable, particularly among voters dissatisfied with the status quo. Harris, however, struggled to seize the opportunity to contrast herself with Biden, whether on issues like economic policy or her stance on Israel. The longer she hesitated, the more her campaign seemed to falter.
A more profound issue was the perception that Biden should not have been a candidate at all. Many Democrats had urged him to step aside after the 2022 midterms, believing it was time for new leadership. If Biden had withdrawn, the party could have held a primary, allowing candidates to better define their positions and giving Harris the chance to take center stage without the overshadowing presence of her running mate.
In the final days leading up to the election, there was a glimmer of hope. Senior aides were cautiously optimistic that Harris could still secure a narrow victory. Door-to-door efforts and grassroots outreach were resonating, and for the first time in a long while, Trump’s divisive persona seemed to be weighing on his own support base. Democrats imagined the historic potential of electing the first female president of color—a prosecutor, a child of immigrants, a candidate whose campaign could be a symbol of joy and hope compared to Trump’s combative image.
However, by the evening of Election Day, this optimism quickly evaporated as results began to turn in Trump’s favor. For many, this moment felt like a bitter reckoning, particularly given the magnitude of the campaign efforts. Volunteers, celebrities, and prominent figures like Liz Cheney and Bill Clinton had lent their voices to Harris’ campaign, but it seemed not to be enough.
“Why didn’t it work?” one top Democratic operative mused. “What happens if we can’t win with all of this behind us?”
The Harris campaign had been plagued by infighting from the start. The late change in the vice-presidential pick, combined with rushed planning, left Harris’ team scrambling. Biden’s initial campaign struggled to attract top talent, which forced Harris to rely on her own circle, despite tensions within the team.
One major point of contention was Harris’ pick for running mate. While some in her camp advocated for Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro, Harris ultimately chose Minnesota Governor Tim Walz. Walz’s easygoing demeanor and willingness to defer to Harris’ leadership were qualities she admired. But many in the Obama camp were less enthusiastic about the choice, sensing that Walz might not provide the necessary political edge in crucial battleground states.
The decision to keep Walz under wraps, limiting his visibility in the campaign, reflected a deeper insecurity in Harris’ team. She preferred to keep the focus on herself, a choice that may have alienated potential allies within her own party.
As the campaign crumbled, Harris’ team faced a sobering reality. For many Democrats, the campaign’s failure was a personal blow. Some speculated that Biden, had he stepped aside sooner, might have preserved the party’s prospects by allowing a more open primary process.
In the final hours of Election Day, what was supposed to be a celebration turned into quiet contemplation. As the race slipped away, the campaign was left to ponder its future. For many, the results felt like a reminder that despite Harris’ potential and historic candidacy, her campaign had never truly found its footing. And as Democrats began to consider the next steps for 2028, it was clear that a new approach would be needed—one that learned from the mistakes of 2024 and confronted the challenges of leadership head-on.