David Atkins, at Washington Monthly:

Scripted is the kiss of death in modern presidential politics. The vibes and poll numbers for Harris were best preceding and, in the run-up to the Democratic National Convention, when she and Tim Walz were winging it on messaging and more willing to go off script. No matter what the polls and focus groups may have suggested, “They’re weird” worked better than stumping with Liz Cheney. Trump ran a campaign with almost no discipline, but it didn’t cost him anything. The more disciplined Harris became, the more she struggled. The more carefully Harris sought moderate Republican votes, the less buzz she seemed to receive.

Yes: this nails it. During those heady pre-Convention weeks, before the pricey consultants’ message-massaging took over, I wrote that for those of us fearing what Trump represents, the candidates’ tone offered a chance, finally, to feel “no longer on our own and undefended.”

The best thing about this new tone and energy is the feeling that, at least for now, we’re not on our own anymore. Someone—even if it’s with the same consultants who were writing timidly for Biden before, now unleashed—is finally sticking up for us.

By Labor Day, the Harris-Walz campaign’s pugnacious, crackling-with-edgy-energy messaging was gone. It got washed away by gauzy, vague “moving forward to the future” language and appeals to Dick Cheney-loving border hawks who, except for a narrow educated fringe worried about democracy, were always going to vote for the real version of Trump instead of the “lite” version.

Remember that cool video, shot days after Walz got chosen, of the two candidates just shooting the sh*t, talking about their musical preferences and their backgrounds sticking up for working-class and vulnerable people? It was great! But for some reason, that video, and any similar messaging, got totally memory-holed.

This is from August 15, 2024. In it, Walz made a funny comment about liking “white guy tacos.” Some far-right outlets gnashed their teeth about that, and I guess the campaign got spooked?

I’ll say it: by October, I felt alone and undefended again. And the candidates’ rejection of the human rights priorities I advocate on border and immigration policy—priorities that much of the Democratic Party shares—personally stung.

Like most of my colleagues doing this work, I held my tongue because the other candidate’s program was so much worse. That felt awful.

Nobody likes being thrown under the bus by should-be allies for advocating what they know is right, for trying to protect vulnerable people. But you know what feels worse? Being thrown under the bus for that in the name of a strategy that utterly failed anyway. I don’t recommend this feeling. It feels f***ing bad.

That’s it. I’m done with recriminations and finger-pointing, they’re not productive. We need to build, we need to be constructive.

I just need to scream out my rage this one time, because I don’t want to see this ever happen again.