When Vice President Kamala Harris chose Tim Walz as her running mate, many pundits lamented her decision. In their view, the Democratic nominee should have chosen a vice presidential candidate who could mitigate her liabilities, and balance out her party’s ticket — such as Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro.
After all, Harris had been a liberal senator from one of America’s most left-wing states and then had run an exceedingly progressive primary campaign in 2020. To win over swing-state undecideds, she needed to demonstrate her independence from her party’s most radical elements. And selecting the popular governor of a purple state — who had defied the Democratic activist base on education policy and Israel’s war in Gaza— would do just that.
Walz, in this account, was just another liberal darling: As Minnesota governor, he had enacted a litany of progressive policies, including restoring the voting rights of ex-felons and creating a refuge program for trans people denied gender-affirming care in other states. Picking Walz might thrill the subset of Americans who would vote for Harris even if she burned an American flag on live TV and lit a blunt with its flames. But it would do nothing to reassure those who heard two words they did not like in the phrase, “California liberal.”
But there is more than one way to balance a ticket. Or so Harris’s team believes, if the third night of the Democratic National Convention is any guide.
On Wednesday night, Democrats used Walz’s nomination to associate their party with rural American culture and small-c conservative moral sentiments, while remaining true to a broadly progressive agenda.
Walz may not be especially distinct from Harris ideologically. But he is quite different demographically and symbolically. Harris is the half-Jamaican, half-Indian daughter of immigrant college professors who grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. Walz was born into a family whose roots in the United States went back to the 1800s, and raised in a Nebraska town of 400, where ethnic diversity largely consisted of several different flavors of Midwestern white (Walz himself is of German, Irish, Swedish, and Luxembourgish descent). Harris is an effortlessly cool veteran of red carpets. Walz is a dad joke that has attained corporal form.
In her person and biography, Harris represents the America that has benefited unequivocally from the transformations of the past half-century — the cosmopolitan, multicultural nation that has greeted the advance of racial and gender equality with relief, and the knowledge economy that’s taken to globalization with relish. Walz, by contrast, was shaped by the America that feels more at home in the world of yesterday, at least as it is nostalgically misremembered — a world where moral intuitions felt more stable, rural economies seemed more healthy, and the American elite looked more familiar; the America that put Donald Trump in the Oval Office, in other words.
Or at least, the Harris campaign has chosen to associate Walz with all of that America’s iconography, attempting to make it feel as included in the Democratic coalition as possible — without actually ceding much ground to conservative policy preferences.
The introduction to Walz’s speech Wednesday night looked like it could have been scripted by a chatbot asked to generate the antithesis of a “San Francisco liberal.” A video montage celebrated Walz’s diligent work on his family farm growing up, his service in the US military, skills as a marksman, and — above all — success as a football coach. Democrats leaned especially hard on that last, most American item on Walz’s resume. Just before the party’s vice presidential nominee took the mic, a group of his former players decked out in their gridiron garments marched on stage to a fight song (not to be confused with “Fight Song”).
Walz’s current persona is surely a half-truth. Unmentioned Wednesday night was that fact that, his parochial roots notwithstanding, Walz is a cosmopolitan intellectual who wrote a graduate thesis on Holocaust education and has been to China roughly 30 times. Still, the basic picture that Democrats aimed to paint rang true: Walz’s former students and players appeared to genuinely revere him, and the love between him and his family was palpable. It is possible to be worldly, liberal, and a quintessentially normal Midwesterner. And if Walz is not the latter, he certainly plays a good one on TV.
Walz put that persona to fine use in his address to the DNC. As both he and Harris have been doing throughout their young campaign, Walz attempted to sell a liberal agenda in conservative terms. He framed social liberalism and safety net programs as logical extensions of rural American neighborliness, saying that growing up in a small town taught him that the “family down the road, they may not think like you do, they may not pray like you do. They may not love like you do. But they’re your neighbors. And you look out for them. And they look out for you. Everybody belongs. And everybody has a responsibility to contribute.”
The antithesis of small-town, middle American values was not California progressives, in Walz’s telling, but Republican zealots. Speaking of Project 2025, the conservative movement’s blueprint for a second Trump admiration, Walz said:
Here’s the thing. It’s an agenda nobody asked for. It’s an agenda that serves nobody, except the richest and the most extreme amongst us. And it’s an agenda that does nothing for our neighbors in need. Is it weird? Absolutely. Absolutely. But it’s also wrong, and dangerous.
There is some basis for believing that Democrats might be able to win over a small but significant fraction of Republican-leaning independents by wrapping center-left policies in conservative packaging. Some political scientists have found that when moderate and conservative voters are presented with a progressive, Democratic economic policy idea — that is justified on the grounds that it will help uphold “the values and traditions that were handed down to us: hard work, loyalty to our country and the freedom to forge your own path” — some do respond favorably (as do liberal voters, who take no offense at such abstract, traditionalist pieties).
Whether Walz tying himself to rural American symbology — or Harris tying herself to “Coach Walz” — will be enough to blunt Trump’s attacks on the Democratic nominee’s supposed “communism” remains to be seen. But the Democratic ticket is at least trying to make right-leaning Midwesterners feel like they belong (even if they do not think like Democrats do).
