61 pages 2-hour read

Fight: Inside the Wildest Battle for the White House

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2025

A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.

Part 2, Chapter 15-EpilogueChapter Summaries & Analyses

Part 2: “What It Took”

Part 2, Chapter 15 Summary: “The Turn”

Trump responded to the chaos by finally firing Corey Lewandowski. Officially, Lewandowski was distanced from the campaign and put in charge of winning New Hampshire for Trump, while Susie Wiles and Chris LaCivita remained in charge of the campaign. This represented a “commitment to running a more professional operation” (223) than the last two campaigns.


Harris’s campaign, meanwhile, found itself having to do persuasion and mobilization at the same time” (225) Convincing people to support a candidate while the candidate was actively stumping was a big challenge that required lots of data-driven analysis. Harris’s team decided to try to broaden her potential voter base by convincing voters with a low likelihood of voting for Harris, including Republicans. Given the radicalization and violent rhetoric of the Republican Party, some within the campaign worried that this strategy would constitute a danger to their volunteers going door-to-door. The authors argue that this strategy did not lead to more swing voters deciding for Harris, and in fact likely cost the Harris campaign crucial volunteers, who did not want to be shot while advocating for her at the front doors of violent white supremacists.


Biden stumped for Harris, but his penchant for connecting with voters in a somewhat Trump-like fashion actually distracted and muddled Harris’s campaign. Biden, in a viral photograph, placed a red MAGA hat on top of his own baseball cap as a joke during a September 11th meeting with survivors of hijacked planes. The photo went viral, with Trump supporters falsely claiming that Biden was supporting him now.


Harris and Trump both contended with the fact that campaigns needed to succeed both on “perception and reality” (227) while ensuring the failure of the other campaign on the same fronts. Despite the media buzz around Harris, Trump’s campaign didn’t see much shift in their numbers: in fact they had gone slightly up. Harris, meanwhile, had the same relatively strong numbers, but nothing seemed to bump them up or down much either. Trump and Harris were both reaching for the same less-predictable voters: men of color, including Black and Latino men. Trump’s racist rhetoric and policies didn’t seem to affect this group as much as expected, and his position that the economy was in crisis and needed strong intervention largely resonated with this group. Harris, though a woman of color, did not have the same confidence that men of color would turn out for her like they had for Obama in 2008 and 2012. Her messaging to that group seemed muddled, and her insistence, like Biden’s, that the economy was actually very strong seemed condescending.


Another gunman attempted to assassinate Trump at his golf course in September, and this tragedy gave Trump another bump in the polls. Harris also paused her attacks on Trump in the media and even gave him another personal call to “express concern for him” (233). The assassination attempts, though nerve-wracking and tragic, helped Trump in the media as well, focusing attention on him in a sympathetic way.


Tim Walz and J.D. Vance, during their vice-presidential debate, also ultimately tipped media perception in Trump’s favor. Walz was anxious and overwhelmed at the idea of a debate, which was not his forte. His speeches were jocular and emphatic, and played well off of Harris’s polished political rhetoric. He wasn’t eager to have to defend himself while attacking Trump and Vance at the same time. Vance, in contrast, “relished the big stage” (234). The press had often accused Vance of hypocrisy in transforming from an ardent Trump critic to Trump’s running mate, and his presentation had been described as artificial and wooden, so his team prepped him by emphasizing the need to seem “warm and normal” (235). Vance’s attitude of conciliation prompted Walz to refrain from attacking him, with Walz seeming relieved that he didn’t have to get in a fight. In the end, Vance seemed reassuring and capable, and Walz seemed barely able to handle the pressure of a single debate. While vice presidential debate performance rarely seems to factor into election results, it “says something about the person vying for the Oval Office” (235). Vance’s ability to mask his far-right viewpoints under a veneer of normalcy spoke well of Trump, while Walz’s inability to articulate his lifelong dedication to community service spoke ill of Harris, regardless of reality.

Part 2, Chapter 16 Summary: “Texas Hold ‘Em”

Harris’s team grappled with the challenge of constructing a presidential campaign while running it. Most importantly, they had to figure out how to negotiate the presence and/or absence of Biden from the campaign. Harris had to show some loyalty and appreciation to Biden in order to display party unity, but she also had to differentiate herself from him: If the voters had loved Biden, he wouldn’t have had to drop out. Harris, when given opportunities to critique Biden during media appearances, went out of her way to defend him. This showed loyalty, but Trump’s team took advantage of “keeping her tethered to Biden and his record” (238). Harris was stumbling in easy interviews, and her message remained muddled. Voters had the impression that “her reason for running was one of circumstance” (239) and not energy, momentum, or an exciting vision for America.


In order to redirect that narrative, Harris’s team tried to book her on the Joe Rogan Experience, a massively popular podcast with a huge audience of young white men, her worst-performing demographic. Rogan, a former TV star and UFC commentator, had a recording studio in Texas that he rarely traveled from. Harris’s campaign team was reluctant to send her to Texas, a state that would never vote Democrat. They tried to get Rogan to travel to her, but he refused. Their negotiations went nowhere, and the authors view the Harris team’s unwillingness to accommodate Rogan as evidence of their disconnection from the American public. Rogan famously had reservations about Trump, having called him a “man-baby” and a threat to democracy in 2022. Harris could have easily focused in on Trump’s shortcomings as a candidate on Rogan’s platform. However, “the Harris high command was not built to lob Hail Mary passes” (241) and their strategies erred on the side of keeping her away from any risk of blundering on the national stage. This meant that Trump dominated the media narrative, since he and his team had no such compunction. Trump filled the media with bombastic and crude statements, attack ads that cast Harris as a radical far-left candidate who favored the LGBTQ community, and particularly trans people, over “strapped taxpayers” (244). Since Harris wasn’t in the media explaining her values or pushing back on the distorted and hateful narrative , possible swing voters had nothing else to go by. Trump’s campaign team also took advantage of Harris’s focus on abstracts like the preservation of democracy by framing Trump as the concrete candidate, the one who was focused on the economy and the taxpayers’ financial situations. Although Trump’s political history did not support this new persona, his ability to dominate the media with stunts flooded the news with his viewpoint and crowded out Harris’.


As part of her outreach to anti-Trump Republicans, Harris also decided to ally herself publicly with Liz Cheney, the Republican daughter of former Vice President Dick Cheney, a widely reviled politician who had helped to saddle the US with a deeply unpopular extended war in Iraq. Liz Cheney had famously turned on Trump and been ousted from her party for it, but her principled stance hadn’t made her popular with either side, making this alliance a “head-scratcher for Democratic operatives outside the campaign” (249). Cheney and Harris decided to hold a rally in Texas together, offering up an opportunity for Harris to go on Joe Rogan’s podcast. However, the day that Harris offered to go on the show, Rogan’s team refused, and it later came to light that Trump would be going on that day instead. Because of this last-minute reconciliation between Trump and Rogan, facilitated by Rogan friends Elon Musk and Dana White, Harris lost her chance to go on the show. 


Beyoncé agreed to speak at the Harris rally, having previously refused to perform even though her song “Freedom” was the official campaign theme song. Though the global diva represented a last-minute coup for the campaign, a Rogan appearance would have demonstrated a willingness to make a “connection with a new and politically valuable audience” (250). Trump’s interview with Rogan went viral, and Harris’s rally was comparatively a flop.

Part 2, Chapter 17 Summary: “Garbage Time”

Early ballot voting began to trickle in for both candidates, and despite Trump’s disdain for mail-in voting in 2020, he and his campaign team took heart from the early leads it created for him, especially in red states. However, Trump still distrusted the process, believing, without evidence, that it was easy for Democratic operatives to exploit.


Harris’s team also acknowledged that mail-in ballots showed Trump taking the lead, but they used that opportunity to showcase how the Republican Party had flipflopped on mail-in ballots over the last four years. Trump’s aides, including Susie Wiles, reflected that the Democrats were inadvertently acknowledging Trump’s lead through this rhetoric.


Trump, in 2024, had become preoccupied with winning the popular vote. He took it as a personal affront that he had “lost the beauty contest to Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden” (255) in the past eight years, and he planned a huge rally at Madison Square Gardens in Manhattan. Democratic leaders compared this rally to a pro-Nazi rally held in the same location in 1939, arguing that it was a purposeful dog-whistle to white supremacists.


Trump, undeterred, populated the rally with figures popular with young men, including billionaire Elon Musk, pro-wrestling figures Dana White and Hulk Hogan, and talk show host Tucker Carlson. Comedian Tony Hinchcliffe sent shock waves through the crowd by referring to the US territory of Puerto Rico as a “floating island of garbage” (256). Trump had been actively courting Latino voters, and his team panicked that this error would cost them the election. Undeterred, Tucker Carlson went on to call Harris, incomprehensibly, Samoan, Malaysian, and low-IQ, three demonstrably false statements.


Meanwhile, in the last few days, Harris and her team decided to ignore the racist attacks and instead try to clearly define her priorities as a candidate. Trump had a clear plan for his 2024 presidency. Harris, meanwhile, seemed to mostly urge voters to preserve democracy in general by using her to keep Trump away from the White House. This was not enough of a narrative to make a compelling case against Trump, though polls still showed that “the two candidates were within whispering distance of each other” (259).


Harris had barely initiated her own rally when Biden confounded Harris’s team by releasing a public statement, stating that “the only garbage I see floating out there are his supporters” (259). This statement, referred to as a “gift” by Trump aides, allowed Trump’s team to quickly reframe the narrative around Biden’s disdain for Trump supporters instead of Hinchcliffe’s and Carlson’s racism and cruelty.


Trump also maximized this outrage by making a well-publicized visit to sanitation workers and riding in a garbage truck, signaling his support to American workers through symbolism if not through policy. Though Trump’s words and acts were often bombastic and fumbling, he “showed a political dexterity that the heavily scripted Harris seemed to lack” (260).


In the run-up to the race, both campaigns obsessively watched the polls. The complexity of the American voting system meant that both sides could make a good case for their own leads based on different polls. However, both campaigns recognized that the two candidates were neck-and-neck, and it would depend on whichever candidate had managed to scrape up the most momentum in these final days.

Part 2, Chapter 18 Summary: “Just Take the 270”

On Election Night, Harris’s confidence, bolstered by late enthusiasm from voters in the swing states, gave way to a bleak realization that none of it was enough to defeat Trump. “Everything added up to a win, she thought, except the actual votes” (264). As her team received dispiriting news about swing states, Harris contemplated having to call Trump to concede. Her team, including JOD, encouraged her to hold off, pointing out that Trump had never called to concede the race after the 2020 election, and still hadn’t.


Trump, meanwhile, was obsessed with beating the statistics of his 2016 run. It was very important to him that his percentage of the popular vote was higher than in 2016, and that the number of electoral votes in his favor was higher than before as well. Some of his longtime aides reflected on how the campaign operation was much more streamlined and professional than in 2016 and 2020, with serious political operatives replacing “boozy Trump friends” (270) like former New York mayor Rudy Giuliani. Although the preliminary reports were in his favor, Trump badgered his team about the electoral college, hoping for stronger results than necessary to take the presidency. Trump already had the 270 electoral votes needed to win, and some of his aides privately wished he would accept the 270 and not keep pushing. However, acceptance was not Trump’s strong suit.


Trump’s campaign succeeded not because its policies were popular or even coherent, but because he offered “a clean break from the unpopular Biden administration” (277) and its policies on economy, immigration, and the war in Ukraine. Harris, for all her momentum, never distanced herself from Biden, and continued his strategy of insisting that the challenges the US faced weren’t actually challenges at all. The “gaslighting on this campaign was unreal” (277) reported a Harris aide after the election. Trump’s policies and actions were abhorrent, but people seemed to respond to the fact that he admitted there were problems in the first place. The Democrats’ habitual optimism about the status quo no longer played well with the American public.


Meanwhile, Trump’s team “exploded in celebration” (279) after the race was officially called by the Associated Press at 2:30 am the morning after Election Day. Though positive emotions reigned, some personal tensions flared at the same time. In particular, Corey Lewandowski, Trump’s first campaign manager, tried to make peace with Chris LaCivita, the current manager, after badmouthing him in the press. LaCivita refused to forgive him, stating that Lewandowski had “messed with the wrong motherfucking guy” (280) and that LaCivita would destroy him. Trump, in contrast, “vowed to heal the country” (281).


Harris, contemplating her defeat, could not understand how victory had seemed so certain and the polling so positive, only to be overturned so quickly. She wondered whether she had been lied to or her aides and pollsters had just been wrong, and which of those options was worse.

Epilogue Summary: “The Aftermath”

Harris struggled to reconcile the “boom of excitement” (282) on the campaign with the “bust of Election Night” (282). She conceded the race to Trump via phone call the next morning. During the concession, Harris emphasized that she intended to help with the transition, while Trump told her that she was tough and had been a challenge.


Harris, Biden, and Nancy Pelosi met a month later at a White House holiday party, where relations between the three politicians remained stiff and awkward. In pushing Biden to drop out and then delaying her endorsement of Harris, Pelosi had done what she believed was necessary to protect a Democratic presidency. Her efforts hadn’t worked, and both Biden and Harris blamed her, at least in part, for Trump’s win. Other prominent Democrats, including Chuck Schumer and former President Obama, were forced to reckon with their incorrect belief that ousting Biden and rapidly locating another nominee would be the solution. However, Biden, too, had to reckon with his promise to act as a “bridge to the next generation” (285) in 2020, only to reverse course and run again in 2024. This decision, among others, lost him the faith of the American people. Biden, with characteristic stubbornness, still maintained publicly that if he hadn’t been forced to drop out, he would have won. This comment stung Harris, who took it as a personal rebuke. Biden had endeared himself to the Democratic Party in 2020, but throughout the course of his presidency and his subsequent campaign, he lost his credibility, his health, some of his friends, and his political career, leaving only the “naked egotism that compelled him to seek a second term” (286).


Democratic voters, meanwhile, were forced to reckon with the fact that they had been deceived by the Democratic leadership at multiple points. They had been assured that Biden was mentally sharp, then told that Harris was in position to triumph over most if not all of the swing states. Now, after the election, Democratic leadership and campaign aides told the public that, in fact, the truncated time frame of the campaign meant that Harris never really had a chance. This flip-flopping of narrative exhausted voters, leading to a historic loss of faith in the party.


Democratic leaders reflected that Trump’s ability to “tap into the anxiety of white people” (290) and, especially, his resonance with younger men, had earned him the slight advantage he needed to succeed. Though he ended up with a little less than 50% of the popular vote in the 2024 election, Trump treated the narrow win as an overwhelming mandate for his agenda, and he informed his loyal voters that over the next four years, he would fight for them.

Part 2, Chapter 15-Epilogue Analysis

These final chapters showcase the Democratic and Republican campaigns as they attempt to steer through unprecedented volatility. The differences in how Kamala Harris and Donald Trump managed these tensions ultimately help explain the outcome of the election—a Republican victory despite Trump’s historically low approval ratings.


The contrasting leadership styles between the Harris and Trump campaigns reveal A Crisis of Leadership and Accountability in Modern Politics. Trump’s decision to remove the manipulative Lewandowski from a central role in the campaign, relegating him to New Hampshire, signals a rare moment of strategic discipline. His team’s professionalism, especially under Susie Wiles and Chris LaCivita, stands in sharp contrast to the internal chaos within Harris’s camp. Despite Trump’s history of instability, in 2024 his campaign infrastructure demonstrated organizational maturity, a marked difference from his 2016 and 2020 operations. While the campaign lacked accountability in a moral sense, in that it made no attempt to constrain Trump’s racist rhetoric and false claims, it was characterized by clear and effective organizational leadership. 


Harris, by contrast, was hampered by a campaign constructed on the fly, inherited from Biden and fraught with unresolved power struggles. Her inability—or unwillingness—to challenge Biden’s record or distinguish herself from him eroded her image as a leader in her own right. As she defended Biden’s policies in interviews, her deference allowed Trump to successfully tether her to an unpopular administration. This illustrates a critical absence of strategic clarity and accountability in the Democratic leadership.


Moreover, Harris’s exclusion from high-risk, high-reward media opportunities, such as her failed attempt to appear on Joe Rogan’s podcast, signaled a lack of boldness that translated into diminished visibility. While Trump took to Rogan’s platform with characteristic bombast, Harris’s campaign erred on the side of caution, again choosing stability over change.


Throughout these chapters, both parties negotiate The Tension Between Public Service and Personal Ambition. Biden, having pledged in 2020 to be a “bridge” to the next generation, reversed course in 2024 and attempted to secure a second term despite clear evidence of cognitive and physical decline. His decision not only fractured the Democratic base but revealed an egotism that ultimately cost the party credibility with voters. Even after his withdrawal, Biden continued to influence the campaign, going so far as to release a divisive statement during the campaign’s final days that derailed Harris’s messaging. His final remark that he could have won had he stayed in the race reflects the enduring pull of personal legacy over party unity or democratic responsibility.


Harris, meanwhile, took up the mantle of service—but was constantly portrayed as a candidate of circumstance rather than vision. Her refusal to challenge Biden’s legacy, even in the face of political necessity, suggests a misplaced prioritization of party loyalty over authentic public communication. Her selection of Tim Walz as a vice presidential running mate—despite his self-professed underwhelming debate skills—was another example of playing it safe. Walz, though a dedicated public servant, could not counteract Vance’s media-savvy debate performance, reinforcing perceptions that Harris lacked strategic boldness.


While Harris sought to downplay her personal ambition, portraying herself as a humble public servant, Trump leveraged his authoritarian style to present his personal ambition as synonymous with that of his voters. With claims like “I am your retribution”—from a speech at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC)—Trump positioned himself as a proxy for public frustration. His obsession with winning the popular vote, though narcissistic, resonated with a base that saw in him not just a politician, but a conduit for their grievances. His public stunts—such as riding a garbage truck after Biden made comments that many saw as calling Trump supporters garbage—were symbolic acts that fused personal narrative with voter identity, however cynical their intent.


The 2024 campaign was dominated not only by political messaging, but by how each campaign handled and weaponized The Influence of Media on Public Perception. Trump’s team mastered this landscape. By dominating alternative media outlets like comedy podcasts and Joe Rogan’s platform (161, 241), Trump connected with demographics largely unreachable by Democratic messaging. His false and often racist claims, such as the claim that Haitian immigrants eat pets, became viral, and while widely condemned, served to saturate the media cycle, marginalizing Harris’s more measured rhetoric.


Harris, though a media-savvy figure, was boxed in by poor strategic decisions and by Biden’s demands to protect his legacy. The Beyoncé endorsement, while culturally significant, did not carry the political weight that an appearance on Rogan’s podcast might have, as it largely appealed to people who were already going to vote for her. Her campaign repeatedly failed to push back against Trump’s aggressive framing, including claims that she prioritized LGBTQ+ communities over taxpayers. While Harris spoke of preserving democracy and glossed over economic issues, Trump offered a tangible, if fictitious, economic narrative that promised American dominance if he was elected. Trump’s concrete claims, though false, won out over Harris’s abstract claims, even though they better reflected reality.


Moreover, Trump’s narrative control extended even into moments of controversy. Racist remarks from supporters like Tucker Carlson and Tony Hinchcliffe were quickly reframed by Trump’s team, shifting media focus back to Democratic elitism rather than Republican bigotry. Trump’s political dexterity wasn’t grounded in policy, but in reflexive media adaptation—a skill Harris’s heavily-managed campaign could not match.


Despite a late surge and competent debate performance, Harris never escaped the shadow of the Biden legacy. Her campaign failed to articulate a distinct or hopeful message, relying too heavily on abstractions like preserving democracy without grounding them in compelling narratives for voters outside the party’s core base. Her loyalty to Biden proved politically fatal. Trump’s campaign offered little policy coherence and no credible plan for how it would deliver on its promises, yet it presented a consistent, emotionally resonant narrative that captivated his target demographics. His win was a triumph of perception: He admitted that problems existed and projected strength, unlike the Democratic party.


Leadership that focused on accommodating insider political elites, ambition without authenticity, and media strategies grounded in caution rather than boldness left Democrats unprepared for an opponent whose greatest skill was—and remains—grabbing and keeping the spotlight. In a political culture driven by performance, the Democrats realized a moment too late that cautious policy decisions, compromises with the existing power structure, and a focus on stability lost out to spectacles of grievance, populist rhetoric, and skillful media manipulation.

blurred text
blurred text
blurred text

Unlock all 61 pages of this Study Guide

Get in-depth, chapter-by-chapter summaries and analysis from our literary experts.

  • Grasp challenging concepts with clear, comprehensive explanations
  • Revisit key plot points and ideas without rereading the book
  • Share impressive insights in classes and book clubs