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Biden’s attempts to shut down the discussion about his readiness to serve as president were largely unsuccessful. He and his team decided to write a public letter to Democrats in Congress who were pushing him to step down. Some of his campaign team felt that a letter was “old-school politics” (79) and wouldn’t play well in the contemporary media landscape, but they also felt that Biden couldn’t be trusted to deliver that message via an interview on camera.
The upcoming Democratic convention, meanwhile, became an impromptu stage for candidates to possibly replace Biden. The media continued to buzz with rumors and opinions about the likelihood of Biden dropping out, despite his forceful public disavowals of that possibility. Biden’s team attempted to ensure that the delegates from New York and California, the two largest and most powerful Democratic delegations, would make statements in support of Biden. However, California’s Democratic Party, led by Nancy Pelosi and Governor Gavin Newsom (rumored to have presidential aspirations of his own), refused to “bend its knee” (80). New York Democrats, led by Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, also refused, since Schumer privately believed that Biden should drop out, though he had made no public statement.
Biden, though his popularity was faltering, still felt confident that he could get the DNC nomination. He had populated the party with enough loyalists that no one could force him to drop out. He fought back against the pressure to withdraw through his letter, which cast himself as “a champion of the little guy against powerful, largely unseen forces” (82), rhetoric that reminded many people of Trump. His letter “hit Capitol Hill like a crate of rotten eggs” (83). Lawmakers resented being referred to as elites by the multimillionaire Biden, whose attempt at projecting confidence instead made him look delusional.
Donors began to withhold expected funds, causing Biden to fall far short of his fundraising goals for July. To Biden, this sudden drought felt like a conspiracy. Biden and his aides responded by “frantically pushing back in phone calls and in text messages” (87) accusing donors of promoting their own agendas at the expense of the country. They accused them of helping Trump win in the long run. Crucially, they also tried to support Biden by disparaging Harris, stating that even if Biden dropped out, the vice president would be the only viable nominee. They used Harris as a threat to keep Biden in the race, an act which constituted a similar kind of betrayal on Biden’s part. “Look at her polling,” Biden and his aides insinuated. “No one wants her” (87).
Pelosi and Biden had a lot in common as Democratic leaders. Close in age, both Catholic and from families that traced their roots to working-class immigrants, they idealized Kennedy, the first Catholic president, when he was inaugurated. “Over decades in Washington, they toiled to enact the agendas of presidents Bill Clinton and Barack Obama” (89). They were both well-known for their willingness to engage in bipartisanship, though Biden liked to say that Pelosi was much more liberal than he was. Most importantly, they “both saw themselves as the sole savior of democracy” (89) and were concerned with protecting their legacies. Pelosi had been instrumental in holding the line against Trump during his 2016 presidency and had impeached him twice. She had been one of Biden’s biggest supporters during his first term. After Biden’s first presidency, though, Pelosi found their perspectives diverging.
Pelosi made her opinion on Biden public on the NBC show Morning Joe. As the former Speaker of the House, she believed that Biden’s faltering campaign would harm downballot candidates and swing the House and even the Senate towards the right. While on the show, she “declined to defend Biden’s candidacy” (90) which in political terms amounted to a stunning rebuke.
Biden aides saw her refusal to defend Biden as “actively sabotaging him” (91) and Biden viewed it as a traitorous, humiliating insult.
Pelosi’s words, or lack thereof, dominated the narrative for days, but her actions seemed to be interpreted as a sign of the Democratic Party’s weakness. Casting doubt on Biden also seemed like a strange decision when “they hadn’t identified anyone to take his spot” (93).
Biden summoned Pelosi to the White House the same day that she made her media appearance. Biden questioned her decision, and Pelosi claimed that her words had been misinterpreted. This argument rang hollow, and Biden protested that “his polling numbers were basically holding” (94). Pelosi privately wondered which polls he was looking at, because she hadn’t seen the same trend he apparently had.
After Pelosi’s statement, actor George Clooney published a now-infamous op-ed in the New York Times which disparaged Biden in no uncertain terms. While Pelosi had political clout, Clooney had immense cultural power. Not only that, but Clooney’s close relationship with former President Obama was well-known, and any political statements Clooney made might as well have been co-authored by Obama.
Some members of the Democratic Party stood up against the onslaught, accusing the party of cruelly “ganging up on [Biden] behind the scenes” (98). They thought that the Democratic Party’s posture of civility and kindness was a thin veil for the ruthlessness displayed by Pelosi and other leaders, who should speak truth to Biden instead of stabbing him in the back.
Susie Wiles, “Donald Trump’s right hand” (99) since 2021, was instrumental to Trump’s campaign strategy in 2024. Wiles revamped his campaign staff to make it more streamlined and evenhanded. She kept a careful eye on the budget, making sure that no one was being lax with finances as had happened in the past. Most importantly, she designed a team that would “execute on his orders rather than try to make decisions for him” (99). This approach helped Trump dominate the primaries and weather his legal troubles in 2023, defending him in the media. She countered Trump’s unpredictable rhetoric and seemingly unending energy with perfectly scheduled events and strictly managed staff. “A stoic contrast to the mercurial Trump” (100), Wiles nonetheless felt intense loyalty towards her boss, sympathizing with his endless battles against what felt like everybody, including the media, the justice system, and mainstream politics. She believed that if they lost the race, not only Trump but his entire team “might be prosecuted” (102) simply for their political beliefs. She also worried that he could be killed by his enemies.
Her worries appeared grounded on July 13th, 2024, at an outdoor Trump rally in Butler, Pennsylvania. Trump was riding high after Biden’s faltering debate performance, and less than two weeks earlier, the Supreme Court had ruled that as a President, he had broad immunity from prosecution. Trump liked outdoor venues because they were cheaper to rent and provided good photographs. However, they were more difficult to secure, and a young man named Thomas Crooks took advantage of that flaw. Crooks fired nine shots total, one killing a man in the crowd and another tearing into Trump’s right ear. Crooks was killed by a countersniper. As Trump was escorted by a tight circle of Secret Service agents off the stage, he raised his fist and pumped it. He yelled “Fight! Fight! Fight!” (106).
Chuck Schumer, meanwhile, visited Biden to relay “brutal polling numbers” (108) that did not bode well for Biden’s chances. Though Biden might be able to squeak out a win, his unpopularity would cost the party downballot races, likely allowing Republicans to take the Senate. Biden refused to accept Schumer’s prognosis, instead insisting that he should stay in the race. Biden heard about the shooting about six minutes after it occurred, and only took two hours to release a statement condemning violence and offering prayers to Trump’s family. Biden’s team, like Trump’s, realized that Trump surviving an assassination attempt could only benefit him politically, giving him sympathy while forcing Biden’s campaign to suspend any attacks against him in order not to seem callous.
Trump finally reached out to Ohio senator J.D. Vance, a formerly outspoken never-Trumper who converted to the MAGA movement later on, to ask him to be his vice-presidential nominee. Trump enjoyed “creating, stoking, and drawing out the drama” (111) around decisions like this, and he had seeded various possible running mates through the media since early 2024. He brought candidates for the position to his home base, the Mar-a-Lago Club in Florida, and instructed them to convince him why they should be his vice president. Vance, Trump’s aides noted, didn’t perform much better than others in terms of his policies or his ability to articulate arguments, but he and Trump’s “bond seemed more natural—chummy like older and younger brothers” (114). Vance especially seemed to be able to put up with Trump’s grilling as if he was in on the joke, not reacting in anger or submission.
Later, after the attempted assassination, Trump realized that picking a successor was not just an abstract matter of poll numbers: it was a way to construct a legacy. He finally picked Vance and introduced him as his running mate in a rally in Milwaukee, where he echoed his new ad-hoc campaign slogan, repurposed from his response to the attempt on his life. His supporters raised their own fists to mirror his raised fist after the attempt, shouting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” (119). Like Biden, Trump believed in his own ability to overcome seemingly impossible odds and succeed. His self-mythology, divorced from the reality of his privileged upbringing and luxurious life, was rooted in the idea of creating his own luck. Now, his survival of the attempt made him think that perhaps “he was the beneficiary of divine intervention” (119) as well.
“In a rapid cascade” (123), the Democratic Party lost confidence in Biden. Many believed that his seemingly sudden decline pointed to some kind of cover-up. The same reason he won in 2020—his sheer electability as an experienced elder career politician—now became his biggest liability. Biden struggled to comprehend the switch in mentality. Since Trump was running against him again, the same flawed candidate he’d beaten before, why was Biden suddenly unacceptable?
Meanwhile, top Democrats, like Senate hopeful Adam Schiff, cautioned the party against imagining that a perfect candidate would arise if Biden left. He stated that it would either be Biden or Harris, since it would be a terrible look to skip over the first Black and female vice president to search for a nominee elsewhere. Though Schiff intended these remarks to remain private, someone recorded him and released his words, putting more pressure on Biden.
Biden then fell ill and tested positive for COVID, with disastrous timing. Democrats referred to his illness as “the nail in the coffin” (125) that cemented him in public perception as too frail to take on the presidency again.
Democrats prepared for a possible Biden exit and subsequent Harris nomination, but also considered the advantages of holding a primary. Most leaders agreed that the goal was to fire up the base, but it was difficult to tell whether a Harris acclamation or a primary would make the biggest impact.
Meanwhile, Obama refused to make any public statement for or against Biden’s withdrawal. Voters of color wondered about his silence, and other Democratic leaders worried about his influence. After running as an outsider in 2008 and 2012, Obama had developed his own organization, Organizing for Action, which fundraised for him. It competed with the DNC for power and money. After he left, the DNC took steps to prevent that type of crippling action from any other outsiders, staffing the party with loyalists to keep “progressive outsiders at bay” (130).
During a karaoke party for Biden’s campaign team, JOD realized that the confusion around the future of the Democratic Party was not generating buzz or media focus, but was instead draining voter confidence at an alarming rate. However, she decided to dig in her heels and insist in media appearances that Biden had no intention of dropping out, and in fact did not need to. This action actually “undermined O’Malley Dillon’s purpose” (132) since it appeared to many observers that she was either lying or so out of the loop as to be incompetent.
Biden, convalescing in his home in Rehoboth Beach in Delaware, consulted with Jill and his son Hunter on his next actions. “Cut off from all but a handful of family members and close advisors” (134), Biden realized that his current circumstances didn’t make him look like a winner. His opponent Trump had just survived an assassination attempt, and was enjoying a bump in popularity due to sympathy. Biden’s aides gently informed him that he was down significantly in the polls, and they had no surefire method to bring his numbers back up in their current circumstances. Biden’s “sense of self was wrapped up in the idea that he could muscle through any hardship” (136), and it was difficult for him to admit defeat. His aides reminded him that if he decided not to drop out, he could still win the nomination, but it would fracture the Democratic Party and possibly allow Trump to take the country. This finally resonated with Biden, who more than anything wanted Trump to crawl away and never be heard from again. He conceded that if he ran and lost, it would “permanently tarnish his legacy” (137).
Chapters 5 through 9 show an election shaped not merely by ideological clashes between Democrats and Republicans, but by crises in leadership, the corrosive effects of unchecked ambition, and the distorting lens of the contemporary media landscape. The Democratic Party’s internal collapse in the wake of President Joe Biden’s disastrous debate performance is juxtaposed with the Republican Party’s strategic consolidation of power under Donald Trump, particularly following the failed assassination attempt that further mythologized his campaign.
Biden’s insistence on remaining in the race, even as support eroded from within his own party, exemplifies A Crisis of Leadership and Accountability in Modern Politics, as Biden’s brand of leadership privileges personal legacy and power over institutional responsibility. His public letter to Congressional Democrats, casting himself as a populist defender of the nation, was widely seen as tone-deaf and alienating—a miscalculation that only deepened lawmakers’ resentment. The invocation of populist rhetoric by a multimillionaire incumbent president with a decades-long career in national politics revealed a disconnect not only with the public but with his own political base. Pelosi’s refusal to publicly support him underscores a loss of confidence at the highest levels. Yet Biden’s retreat into a close circle of family and longtime aides demonstrates a failure to heed broader counsel, a retreat into self-preservation rather than a confrontation with democratic responsibility.
The Republican response to this moment of Democratic crisis offers a stark contrast in strategic cohesion, if not in ethical accountability. Donald Trump’s campaign, under the management of Susie Wiles, illustrates a more tightly disciplined model of leadership through delegation and loyalty. Wiles’s effectiveness in streamlining campaign operations and managing Trump’s volatile persona marks a mature evolution in Republican campaign tactics since 2016. It’s important to note, however, that the same traits that cast Biden as a tone-deaf and privileged elder statesman also very much applied to Trump, another wealthy septuagenarian who—far from being a political outsider—had for nearly a decade been unquestioned leader of one of the nation’s two major political parties. Trump’s ability to appeal to his voter base directly seemed to allow him to overcome these liabilities and define his own image in a way that Biden could not.
Biden’s struggle is rooted in a sincere if ultimately misguided belief in his own indispensability, illustrating The Tension Between Public Service and Personal Ambition. His conviction that “he could muscle through any hardship” (136) had once made him an attractive figure of stability; now, it suddenly became a liability. Advisors and allies, including Jill and Hunter Biden, reflected this entrenchment of identity and ambition—protecting not merely a candidacy but a legacy. The campaign’s use of Kamala Harris as a rhetorical deterrent—”No one wants her” (87)—reveals not only political calculation but an instrumentalization of identity politics in defense of personal ambition. By contrast, Trump’s ambition is unrepentantly personal, but no less wrapped in public myth. His decision to drag out the vice-presidential selection process for attention in the media, and his belief that surviving an assassination attempt was possibly “divine intervention,” reveal an almost messianic self-conception. However, while Biden’s self-conception as the savior of democracy represents his faltering grip on political reality, Trump’s self-aggrandizement is integrated into a campaign that understands the emotional tenor of its audience and responds accordingly.
The role of the media in shaping and distorting public perception is central to both campaigns, but it functions differently in each. For Biden, the media becomes both an arena and a liability. His letter was criticized as old-school politics, ineffective in the digital age where visuals and immediate impressions dominate discourse. Pelosi’s refusal to defend him on Morning Joe was interpreted not as a principled stand but as a sign of internal collapse, with the media seizing upon the rift to suggest chaos. For Trump, the media serves as both adversary and amplifier. Wiles’s careful coordination of an experienced, weathered campaign team ensured that Trump’s debate performance and the subsequent rally shooting were framed in ways that magnified his paradoxical image as both victor and victim. The assassination attempt, particularly, was perfectly suited for the current media landscape. Trump’s symbolic raising of his fist and his repetition of the slogan “Fight! Fight! Fight!” demonstrates a savvy understanding of media spectacle and the construction of political mythology: the blood, the fist, the chant—each element reinforcing his narrative of embattled perseverance. The Republican campaign, unlike the Democrats, recognized and wielded the performative dimensions of media with precision.
What emerges from these chapters is not a story of moral victory, but of structural dysfunction across the political spectrum. Both parties are shown to be ensnared by individual ambition, media sensationalism, and institutional self-preservation. The Democrats, weighed down by Biden’s inability to relinquish control and a party apparatus purposely ill-equipped to challenge him, unravel in the public eye. The Republicans, led by a figure who revels in chaos yet is buffered by strategic allies, succeed in controlling the narrative, though not without deep ideological and ethical compromise. Even Susie Wiles, who developed a persona of loyalty, discipline, and focus to counter her boss’s bombast, confided in her team that her dedication to him was self-preserving, as she believed wholeheartedly that if Trump lost, the Democrats would persecute and destroy all his allies.



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