Who Do I Like for 2028?

A computer desktop littered with files can become more pleasing to the eye with one click: Snap to Grid. The ideas in those files might be half-baked at best, but the files themselves are suddenly tidy. It’s as though there’s a plan. 

When Kamala Harris chose Tim Walz as her running mate on August 6, 2024, I pushed the Snap to Grid button on my brain. As much as I’d wanted to see Pete Buttigieg debate J.D. Vance, I understood the logic—both the spoken component (Walz was a folksy midwest governor) and the quiet part (unlike some of the other contenders, he would not outshine his running mate, a woman whose otherwise impressive career did not include excelling in presidential campaigns). 

The 24 days that Biden had stayed in the race after his disastrous debate had been the opposite of coalition building: those of us who wanted Biden out were called traitors by our fellow Democrats, even as Trump—an actual traitor in my view—was oiling his way into the hearts and minds of the discontented. 

The 15 days between Harris sealing the nomination and picking her running mate had been divisive in their own way. None of us had voted for Harris as the top of the ticket. None of us could choose her running mate. Continuing to argue even over important questions—e.g. Had Josh Shapiro been passed over for the VP slot on account of antisemitism?—seemed to me to strain the tent poles at the very moment we needed to shore them up and build out, fast. 

In my mind, Joe Biden had screwed up in the way that only the most powerful and insulated can: first by choosing to run for a second term and then by wasting precious weeks after the debate. But that damage was done. By the time of the Walz announcement, I was tired of argument and ready—past ready—to get to the work of winning, work that under the circumstances seemed to me to require the single-minded focus of a salvage operation. No more talk. Snap to Grid.

With the benefit of some remove, I can now say: what a miserable, and ultimately ineffective, way to operate. To any thinking person—canvasser or canvassee—it felt weirdly hollow.*

The good news for fans of democracy is perhaps this: even with all the grotesque distortions in our political process (Citizens United, gerrymandering, voter suppression, etc.) elections can’t—yet—be bought; the Harris campaign spent plenty of money. Similarly, wins can’t yet be conjured. For all our system’s weaknesses, it seems that wins still have to be earned by connecting with voters. Say what you will: Trump connected. He’s never offered sound plans for the greater good, but he’s a human divining rod for grievances—and without a compelling alternative, that instinct was connection enough in 2024.

I don’t know how you’re approaching 2026 and 2028, but my personal political resolution is no more ‘snap to grid.’ We have eleven months until the midterms. We have three years until the next presidential election. We need principled, competent leadership at every level—national, state, and local. And we have a ton of talent. My plan is to sit with the mess for at least a few more months, ignoring as best I can who’s in the headlines and focusing instead on results, two kinds of results in particular:
1) Who’s really connecting with voters—especially the disenchanted and disengaged?
2) Who’s doing what they said they were going to do, i.e. who’s building trust as they go?

My hope is that by the time I join the effort to win the midterms, I won’t be googling answers to perfectly reasonable questions from my fellow voters. All I’ll have to do is explain why *I’m* excited about my candidate. 

Thanks for reading,
Kate

*To the friends who flagged this hollowness at the time: you were right. I’m still not sure what an ordinary citizen should have done in that moment. If you have thoughts, I’d genuinely welcome them—I suspect I still have lessons to learn from 2024.