The Hangover After Harris
If you're a center-left political junkie, you probably still feel the sting of November 2024. In our recent Nerds for Humanity livestream, I sat down again with my longtime political sparring partner Phil K to make sense of what went wrong—and, maybe more importantly, what comes next.
Phil and I have been analyzing the 2024 cycle from start to bitter end: from our fierce debates over Biden’s electability to the odd bedfellows MAGA made with Eric Adams. But this conversation felt different. We weren’t just talking about polls and primary narratives. We were, in essence, performing a political autopsy on a movement that once inspired hope—and ended up roadblocked by its own legacy.
Let’s not bury the lead: Joe Biden’s decision to run for re-election was a catastrophic misjudgment. And the cascade of events that followed—his late withdrawal, the elevation of Kamala Harris, and her inability to pivot away from the baggage of his administration—set the stage for what Phil aptly described as “just such an insane answer to give.”
Harris’s campaign felt stuck. “There should be no daylight,” Biden reportedly told her—meaning: no separation, no contrast, no acknowledgment that the economic and immigration struggles of his presidency were weighing her down like an anvil strapped to a lifeboat. Even when offered an opportunity to differentiate herself gently, she flubbed it. “I wouldn’t change anything,” she said in an interview—a sound bite that Phil called a turning point. “It was at that point I started to say… I don’t know.”
Instead of drawing a line in the sand and saying, “Biden handled COVID, I’ll handle affordability,” Harris appeared more loyal than strategic. Biden’s ask was understandable—after all, no one wants their legacy attacked by their own VP—but it was a misstep. As I put it during the stream: “This is a full-contact sport. We gotta win this thing.”
The Opposite of Trump
Despite the mess of 2024, Phil and I are genuinely optimistic about 2028—and that optimism starts with an old favorite: Pete Buttigieg.
Yes, Pete. The former Secretary of Transportation, Afghanistan vet, Rhodes Scholar, policy nerd, and unflinchingly authentic presence. To paraphrase Phil, Pete doesn’t pretend to be one of the bros—he leans into the nerdiness, and that’s what makes him effective.
We spent time analyzing a now-viral clip from a three-hour interview Pete did recently. In it, he reframes freedom—not as freedom from government, but freedom through government. The right to clean air, good schools, parental leave, and a safe neighborhood. “That’s the life I want everybody to be able to live,” he said with conviction, without raising his voice, and with enough substance behind the sentiment that you know he could explain how each policy would actually work.
“He hits on an emotional level without being hysterical. That’s why it works,” I said during the stream.
Pete has both the governing chops and rhetorical skill to reclaim values like freedom and patriotism for the left. As Phil put it, “Whoever the next president is needs a clear idea of how to make government effective. Pete has that.” And that’s not just about management—it’s about rebuilding public trust in federal institutions that Trump’s administration, especially during his second term, is likely to shred further.
The Case for Shapiro (and His Baggage?)
Of course, Pete isn’t the only contender. Josh Shapiro, the governor of Pennsylvania, also looms large. Phil praised his focus on efficiency, citing Shapiro’s record on expediting small business licenses and rebuilding a major bridge in just 12 days.
But Shapiro has vulnerabilities. First, his oratory style is a little too Obama-esque—his cadence, his tone. “If I close my eyes,” I joked, “is this the third Obama term?”
More seriously, there’s the Israel-Gaza situation. Shapiro is Jewish and has made clear statements critical of Netanyahu, calling him “one of the worst leaders of all time.” Yet some perceive him as overly aligned with pro-Israel hardliners. As I put it, “Politics isn’t fair. That’s why he needs to be clear about his position.” In a post-Gaza Democratic Party increasingly fractured over foreign policy, clarity will matter more than tribal allegiance.
Phil made an important point: “Everyone has to do this. Kamala had to prove she wasn’t just for Black people. Shapiro might have to do the same with Israel.” It’s unfortunate, but real.
The Wildcards: Moore, AOC, and Sister Souljah Moments
West Moore of Maryland and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez also came up. Moore brings executive experience, charisma, and battlefield service. AOC brings a movement—and the energy of the party’s left flank. But in either case, a potential ticket with Pete would be… electric.
Still, I cautioned about triggering MAGA. “A Buttigieg-AOC ticket might be too much—it would feel like their whole world is collapsing.” But then again, maybe that’s the point?
Both Pete and Shapiro have opportunities for “Sister Souljah moments.” For Pete, that could mean taking a nuanced stance on trans athletes in women’s sports—something grounded in compassion but rooted in fairness. For Shapiro, it might mean confronting Israeli settlement expansion head-on.
“Pete can say: Let sports leagues figure it out.” Phil proposed during the stream.
The point isn’t to alienate allies—it’s to demonstrate independence, courage, and authenticity. Voters crave that more than ever, especially after a Trump presidency driven by loyalty tests and cult-of-personality rule.
Republican Bench: The Vance Variable
Phil and I aren’t Republican strategists, but from a clinical lens, we dissected what 2028 might look like for the GOP.
It’s clear: JD Vance is the frontrunner.
As Trump’s VP, Vance will have the donor network, MAGA credibility, and perhaps Trump’s own endorsement. “The whole ballgame is Trump’s nod,” Phil said. Unless Vance catastrophically fails during the second Trump term, he’s likely to coast to the nomination.
There’s one wildcard: the economy. If Trump’s second term tanks—if unemployment spikes, inflation returns, or there's foreign policy disaster—Vance could be stuck defending a mess. He could become, as I put it, “the Kamala Harris of the Republican Party.”
In that case, someone like DeSantis—who kept one MAGA boot on and one off—could reemerge. He’s the ultimate hybrid: not fully Trumpist, but not anti-Trump either. Nikki Haley? Probably too “Romney Republican” for today’s GOP.
The Media Candidate Temptation
What about non-traditional candidates like Stephen A. Smith?
We entertained the idea for a moment—he’s charismatic, direct, and commands an audience. But we both agreed: “Government is hard. It’s not a cable news segment.” Voters may not want another president learning on the job, especially after the chaos of Trump 2.0.
Still, Smith—or someone like him—could play the role of kingmaker. A nod from a beloved media figure could swing perception in a crowded Democratic primary, especially for someone like Pete who’s trying to cut through noise with substance.
Final Predictions
Looking ahead to the 2026 midterms, Phil and I share the view that Democrats are likely to retake the House, maybe even comfortably. But the Senate? That’s trickier. The map is brutal. We might hold at 50 or 51 seats—if we’re lucky.
But none of that matters if our institutions continue to erode.
The Supreme Court is being ignored. Congress is fragmented. Trump is experimenting with post-constitutional governance. “If you have a situation where the president says, ‘I don’t care what the court says,’ and Congress won’t check him… we’re in serious trouble,” Phil warned.
And he’s right.
Reclaiming the Narrative
If there’s one recurring theme from our conversation, it’s this: Democrats cannot run on technocracy and process. We must speak in values.
Freedom. Family. Opportunity. Patriotism.
Pete Buttigieg gets this. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t dodge. He meets voters where they are and explains how clean water and strong parental leave are acts of patriotic governance.
“We don’t need to seed values like freedom to the right,” Phil emphasized. “We can redefine them in ways that resonate.”
That’s the real battle for 2028—not just blue vs. red, but which version of America we want to fight for.
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