March 21st, 2025

Roanoke–much like the rest of the country–is a city of contrasts. It is quiet yet industrious, historically conservative yet home to diverse communities, and grounds for immense change. Here, I viewed firsthand how the battle for the White House could shape life in the region, and how quickly it could stir up political fervor.
 In March 2024, Donald Trump, with wins in the Republican primaries, easily became the presumptive nominee. He was to deliver an acceptance that July, at the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee. Despite it being before his certification. The right-leaning populace in Southwestern Virginia, had already taken Trump’s nomination and run with it. This was evident in the form of many signs campaigning for the former. The sheer scale in which these signs cropped up was a bit idiosyncratic to me. During the 2020 election, I saw far fewer signs during my commutes. I could not help but wonder if the local economy was single-handedly kept afloat by the sudden demand for campaign signs. Nevertheless, I shrugged this finding off, believing myself significantly older and to that point, more observant. Soon enough, the nation was primed for the first presidential debate between incumbent Joe Biden and former President Donald J. Trump on June 27. There was a certain degree of enthusiasm for Trump; running after a Biden presidency that a large proportion of Americans from both sides of the aisle thought anticlimactic at best and disastrous at worst. To his credit, President Biden made several key points, including those about the COVID-19 Pandemic, the soaring prices of goods and services, and national security issues. 
However, it was only downhill from there.
At the end of the night, top Democratic officials were practically tugging at their hair over Biden’s “disastrous” debate performance. Not only had Biden confirmed his age was an issue–a subject that millions of voters were already anxious about–he had failed to effectively combat the attacks on his administration. Republicans, meanwhile, were more than giddy. Trump had effectively destroyed the incumbent’s reputability. To that point, it was less than 24 hours before notable members of the Democratic began to call for his removal as the Democratic nominee. On July 21, his hand was forced, and he acquiesced to the demands of several members of his party. 
But who was to be the new nominee? 
Names flew around the nation like wildfire. But who better, the president thought, to run for his successor than the woman who had made history as the first female, Black and Asian-American Vice President of the U.S.? Who better than Kamala Harris? It was not long before the rest of the party began to rally around Harris as their nominee, to be certified at the 2024 Chicago Democratic National Convention. At this point, aforementioned signs had begun to proliferate more profusely, and in unexpected areas as well. Soon enough, the scale and location of these acts of political advocacy got me wondering about the race’s outcome. In Roanoke’s predominantly minority neighborhoods, for instance,  I noticed more campaign signs for Trump-Vance, with slogans like “TAKE AMERICA BACK.” But just when I thought the election was decided in favor of the Republican nominee, a “HARRIS-WALZ” or “WHEN WE FIGHT, WE WIN” reset my sentiment and reminded me the only certainty in politics is uncertainty–and a lingering headache. The road to the White House, then, would lead through Pennsylvania—the Keystone State to finish the “Blue Wall.” What neither I nor arguably anyone else expected was a Trump rout, leaving Democrats stunned and Republicans euphoric. 
This got me wondering: how did Harris manage to fall short of the White House? What made Trump more attractive this time around? What did Trump get right, and what did Harris get wrong?  It all came down to campaign strategy, party support, and even a sense of morality. 
The first thing I noticed during the race was the way in which the Trump campaign was managed. It showed a heavy desire to invigorate its base while simultaneously pulling in those who may be skeptical of the nominee’s policies. Trump’s overall goal this year was to paint himself as a unifying figure, a standpoint that ultimately depends on the voter–even some who voted Republican do not feel that way. However, the situation remains: enough people saw him that way, which led to his victory at several key junctions. He called for the scrapping of several government entities which a number of Americans saw as useless or overly bureaucratic. Donald Trump, overall, ran on the promise of returning several powers to the states: abortion, education and even some previously federal expenditures are all expected to forthwith (or at least, semi-immediately) be returned to the states come January. So what makes this practice particularly alluring toward Republican and swing voters? Right-aligned individuals typically seek to limit government size, influence, and oversight. This can yield positive returns, especially in the case of economic freedom, or laissez-faire, which the country is built upon. But above that, it also makes Americans believe they have more civil liberties than they would possess under a larger government. By returning interpretation of certain issues to state legislatures, Trump courted citizens who believed it is their right to decide. But this is not necessarily the prevailing stance for those to the center and left; those leaning in that direction argued that the best path to unity was through acknowledging all voices, rather than vesting their hopes into one person. 
Another thing Democrats could not foresee this time around was Trump’s utilization of different voter demographics. His campaign was unprecedentedly skilled at appealing to disillusioned minority voters, his own base of primarily White, older, rural males, and swinging voters in regions that had been principal Democratic strongholds. For example, the church I attend weekly is in a fundamentally lower income, minority community. While pockets of affluence are present, the scale is not comparable to those surrounding school or home. This cycle, I noticed several signs campaigning for Trump in front yards, on storefronts, and on street corners in the area. This was evidence of Republican work with those who may not typically swing towards the base. In battleground states, particularly Pennsylvania and Georgia, this was also the case. In 2020, Biden won 13 pivotal Pennsylvania counties to ultimately win the state and the White House. This year, Harris ceded five of them. Trump took fewer stops in Pennsylvania–22 to Harris’ 26–he was more adroit in using language that appealed to a broader demographic. He set up several “Latinos for Trump” and “Blacks for Trump” pop-ups in counties where those enumerations were the highest or most important, and continued to cultivate support by promising a better alternative to a nominee who many non-Democratic voters saw as too divergent from their values. Harris’ performance was not all failure; she won women by a ten percentage points. While the spirit of Obama’s ‘Yes We Can’ was perceptible in the Democratic campaign, it faced significant headwinds from economic challenges, global instability and erosion of trust in the government which occurred under Biden, all of which proved difficult for a candidate coming (literally) out of left field. In all, Harris failed to get a large enough proportion on board for what she presented as a noble cause. But it was not just in Pennsylvania where Kamala Harris fell short of her expectations. In Michigan and Wisconsin, specifically, there was a large disparity between expected outcomes and actual results, especially in the former. In fact, Michigan had one of the hardest right-oriented swings of any state in the Union–though all experienced it. In nearly every county, Democrats faced a hard shift to the GOP, one that stings even worse when it could be observed across every anthropological poll. What gave Trump the edge in the seven swing states was not necessarily his ability to draw in large swaths of people, which he certainly was able to do, but his personality that served as a foil to his opponent’s. Trump’s victory in the battlegrounds came not solely from drawing large crowds but from a strategic focus on incremental gains across demographics. By contrasting his governance reform-focused persona with Harris’ broader progressive vision, Trump appealed to voters seeking a transition into stability over one into social justice. 
As we now accept the results of the presidential election, the query of moral advantage is brought to light. Depending on who you ask, this election could be seen as either a perfect success or crushing failure on the basis of American morality which many dissenters argue has been shattered due to the election’s outcome. Many around the world feel these effects too, as the 2024 Election in the United States occurred simultaneously with a volley of far-right elections—and united left retaliations—in Europe. While many leftists around the country fear Donald Trump’s purported contempt for globalization and resurged nationalism, the right has viewed this as a new age: an “America first” one. When Joe Biden was a Democratic Senator from Delaware, he once lamented to Congress that “Europe cannot stay united without the United States. There is no moral center in Europe.” That thought has been reflected in Trump’s attitude toward foreign intervention, specifically in the context of broader global conflicts such as the War in Gaza—another focal point behind Harris’ loss. For example, Dearborn, Michigan, which has one of the highest concentrations of Arab-Americans in the U.S., voted 47 percent for Trump, 28 percent for Harris and 22 percent for Jill Stein. Trump was able to capitalize off of the geopolitical stress that has bemused the Biden Administration for the past four years. Much like Europe, Trump’s camp prioritized the importance of an ultranationalist America preserving its individuality in the face of mass immigration movements and international tumult. By conflicting with Harris’ progressivist hopes for an globalized society, Trump carried the narrative of moral high ground in an era where nations are receding into their own circles following crisis after crisis. 
In both the U.S. and Europe, the concept of morality was fundamentally reframed by rightists as a defense of tradition, sovereignty, and self-determination. He echoed this in a speech at a Turning Point Action rally, saying “You’re fighting against an oppressive left-wing ideology that is driven by hate and seeks to purge all dissent.” Morality, as they saw it, was ensuring America remained a certain demographic’s view of it. Trump cemented his policies as an ethical imperative to, literally, “Make America Great Again”, explicitly by protecting its denizens from perceived external threats—be they economic, cultural, or geopolitical. Trump altered his persona around the preservation of American individualism and exceptionalism. The recuperation of chauvinism across the Atlantic, furthermore, occurring concomitantly as it does in the United States has offered a vision into shifting tides. In this, Trump seized the opportunity, and rode the wave of an electorate becoming incrementally more resistant to internationalized governance.
Kamala Harris lost: What did she get right? Harris was able to mount an antithesis in an election that appeared to have been decided. She shattered fundraising records. Harris took on the role of underdog against a well-known opponent. She endured relentless criticism compounded by her identity as a woman of color. Harris managed to craft a compelling counter-narrative against a GOP platform many Americans either feared or outright opposed. Her efforts laid the groundwork for future Democratic campaigns and inspired a level of grassroots resilience within her party. Her loss can teach important lessons about strategy, appeal, and how to combat polarization. 
The election is over, and ultimately, the outcome hinged on a combination of campaign strategy, party cohesion, and underlying questions of morality–a word with murky meanings as of now. These factors not only shaped this election but could also serve as a blueprint for a Democratic resurgence in the future. 
As new officials take office, signs are taken down, and individuals once again become unbothered by Washingtonian affairs, there is one fixture that remains as resolute as America itself. As I passed the campaign signs daily, gazing longingly and attempting to ascertain clarity on the situation, one sight always served as a reprieve for a mind abuzz with thoughts about the nation’s future. It was a symbol of the nation itself. There, resting triumphantly atop the peak of Mill Mountain sat the Roanoke Star, illuminated in its characteristic Virginia charm. The star does not shine simply for Republicans or solely for Democrats, but for all Virginians. It shines for all Americans. It shines as a beacon of unity, resilience, courage, and hope. In its light, we are reminded that the promise of America belongs to us all, no matter who we vote for.