Somewhere between the furrowed brows and folded arms, the tension presented by one of Kamala Harris’s key tactics in the final stretch of the US presidential campaign could be assessed. A white, conservative, former Trump voter was on stage at Harris’s rally in Raleigh, North Carolina last Wednesday, about to introduce the vice-president.
Jennifer Bell was not exactly a popular choice. But she was there for the cameras, not the crowd. Many Harris supporters sat stony-faced as occasional smatterings of boos greeted Bell’s description of her voting history, and then lukewarm cheers regarding her appeals to voters just like her who can hold on to their conservative values, but still vote blue.
This tactic – wooing anti-Trump Republicans – might work. The Democrats certainly need it to. But what happens after that? There is something discordant about it all. Activists and organisers know the deal with this stuff. The hard yards are done by the always-committed, and then the middle-ground appeals and mind-changing work needs to start. It’s tedious and can render those who were always there less visible. Often, those who crossover are celebrated more than those who were ever thus. There’s a huge degree of humility, ego-sanding, and bitter-pill-swallowing required.
[ Maureen Dowd: Donald Trump simply has no character. He has no shameOpens in new window ]
This can be called pragmatism. Rallies are a way for people to be fired up, acknowledged, be in the presence of the person they’ve been phone-banking, canvassing, fundraising, and voting for. Having put all that effort in, as the campaign peaked, it must have felt a bit off at these motivational events to see the cameras increasingly focus on the Jenny-Come-Latelies.
All of the speakers at the rally, including a conveyor belt of North Carolinian politicians, mentioned abortion, and their proclamations about defending a woman’s right to choose received the largest cheers. Speaking to attendees, the two biggest issues on people’s minds were abortion and the economy (as it pertains to the cost of living). “For me, the election is about healthcare when it comes to abortion. I’ve had experiences of miscarriages, so I know what this means,” one woman told me. Her partner nodded in agreement, “same and same” he said, “exactly what she said. And I believe in Kamala”.
A couple of hours away, at Virginia State University in Petersburg, a public, historically black university, Yousif Omer, president of the Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity on campus and who graduates next May, told me: “I can only speak for the men that I know, my [fraternity] brothers here, especially black men, I haven’t seen them this engaged in a while. When Joe Biden was the presumptive nominee, it was kind of quiet, right? We were like, ‘we’re going to have to vote for him because we don’t want the other guy’. But when vice-president [Kamala] Harris became the nominee, we felt that jolt of excitement and energy. This is not an old white man. This is an energetic family woman, a woman of god, educated, sane, a mature person.”
For Omer, the key issues are abortion, the economy and job opportunities for graduates (he pointed to student loan debt forgiveness under Biden), and immigration. “I come from immigrant parents who came here from the Republic of Sudan in Africa. A lot of people say the candidate I support is weak on immigration, and I choose to differ. I believe America is the land of opportunity… I believe people have a right to come to the United States, to apply for asylum, to come and study here. We need to open our arms and treat people well, but also outline what our policies, procedures and rules are, so people can follow those.”
Then, on the highway towards Charlottesville, a giant confederate banner flapping in the wind. It’s one of several raised by the Virginia Flaggers, who continue to hoist the flag roadside across the state. Their latest was in mid-October, in a place called Danville, in tribute to the Confederate soldier Powhatan Bolling Whittle, son of an Irish immigrant from Glenavy, Antrim.
As last week rolled on, a new date was placed in Trump’s diary, another North Carolina rally in Greensboro, of all places. Greensboro, where four young black men began their peaceful protest at the then “white only” lunch counter of the Woolworth store in February 1960, something that catalysed the student sit-in movement. The counter is preserved, eerily so, a landmark of civil rights activism. Touring that museum, the principles and power of non-violent direct actions and peaceful protests are highlighted over and over. Having to take the high road is a well-worn path for black Americans.
If Harris wins, the wooing of Trump-jaded Republicans will be seen as a winning tactic. Occupying a generic middle-ground will have worked in this instance. If she loses, traipsing around the US with Liz Cheney in tow won’t look so smart. Regardless, what actually happens next? What happens when the Democratic Party broadens itself to include Republicans? What happens to a party in-part built on the work of black organisers – and particularly so in the southern states – when pivot throughout the campaign has been towards voters who have done nothing but momentarily flip?
Outside of a campaign context, the future path for that tactic – like so much happening in the US right now – feels like territory yet to be mapped.
