Who knew that the word “weird” would have such political potency? Since Kamala Harris’ recently minted vice presidential pick, Minnessota Gov. Tim Walz, went viral for suggesting that the Trump-Vance ticket was “weird,” the Democratic race for the White House got a new spring in its step. It also marked a major intervention in political communication—a new vocabulary and messaging framework at a time when terms like “autocrat,” “enemy of democracy,” and “dictator” have often failed to win elections against illiberal leaders across the world.
[time-brightcove not-tgx=”true”]While “weird” deserves criticism due to its playground, bullying character, it was a fresh, even surprising, idea that quickly captured the attention of wide audiences. Unlike Hillary Clinton’s “deplorables,” Walz’s use of “weird” focused on leaders, not voters, a much more accepted form of attack. Deploying “weird” as a qualifier also sent the message that the Democrats are not afraid. As Walz put it: “The fascists depend on us going back, but we’re not afraid of weird people. We’re a little bit creeped out, but we’re not afraid.”
The introduction of “weird” as a buzzword did more than just label Trump and Vance: it solidified Walz’s image as “anti-weird.” Why does that matter? Personality plays an increasing role in our contemporary politics—political figures perform on the global stage, and as part of what researchers call “political personalization,” we pay more attention to personalities than to policies, institutions, parties—or even facts. Walz sent the “vibes” voters needed: a certain midwestern, bubbly, working-class, joyful, even goofy political character, a white guy who was a football coach, a veteran, and a high school teacher (seriously, all three? And then even a governor?), and who is just as comfortable laughing at a state fair as ridiculing Republican leaders in elite media studios.
Even in highly manufactured media environments, Walz manages to project authenticity: he is still the guy that people want to have a beer with. And this persistent performance of authenticity is what works in contemporary politics—the paradoxical requirement of being yourself when everything around you is fake. In contrast to showy, show-off performances, people are increasingly looking for everyday political charm: a person who is “just like us.”
Read More: Where Tim Walz Stands on the Issues
This is a very delicate balancing act. Walz’s authenticity will be tested every step of the way. In an intense, completely controlled campaign environment, his personal charm and story will have to shine through—without being perceived as “fake” or even “cringe.” There is a very fine line between successful and failed authenticity performances, especially at times when voters are relentlessly bombarded by news and images, making politicians’ reliable charm a defining feature of their political power.
While charisma is built on distance from the audience, charm is marked by proximity. Would you want to hang out with the guy in person and online? That is the ultimate test politicians must pass. Of course, this is a “weird” requirement—non-charming people can be excellent at getting a job done. Yet, this is the reality of contemporary politics: It is built on the public performance of authenticity. Ignore it at your peril.
Walz won the “chemistry test”, not only online, but also in person with Harris. His authenticity worked beyond television studios and well-selected social media reels. Walz convinced Harris that he can be a reliable and funny guy to share responsibilities and stress with. Harris and Walz continued the performance of authenticity and “happy warriors” in their first rally in Philadelphia on August 6, where Walz even thanked Harris for“bringing back the joy.” They are now the joyful team of the American dream, represented by their campaign donation image showing Harris looking forward into the future Obama-style, while Walz is donning a big smile, looking directly into the eyes of the audience.
At the same time, it is worth remembering that most Americans know close to nothing about Walz; his image has only a few contours on the national stage and could be radically reshaped by attacks. The current authentic image could still be shattered by narratives about potential or invented fraud, inefficiency, or political extremism. Charm oscillates on a spectrum of seduction and deception, and attacks always attempt to prove deception.
To win the election, Democrats need to convince many in the center, not please the loudest leftist voices on social media. They must win over white, working class, non-college educated voters. That the Trump campaign was so worried about Pennsylvania Gov. and VP hopeful Josh Shapiro that they supported an antisemitic leftist campaign against him is a good reminder of the shaky ground they stand on: They consider a centrist stance combined with good performance skills and a strong record of achievement in a swing state particularly threatening.
Walz’s task will be to remain joyful, yet reassure diverse constituents that the ticket offers an inclusive, reasonable, and efficient bipartisan politics that brings us together in times of devastating polarization and massive global threats.
Laughing and charm could be good weapons in such times.
