107 Days of Courage

In politics, timing is everything. Six weeks before the election, conservative pollsters were already declaring victory, essentially saying, “Just don’t set anything on fire and this is yours.” Meanwhile, progressive pollsters clung to hope, pushing their candidates to keep fighting. This stark polling divide set the stage for one of the most remarkable acts of political courage in recent memory: Kamala Harris’s 107-day presidential campaign.

In the annals of American political history, few figures have shouldered as heavy a burden with as much grace as Harris. She stepped into an impossible situation, inheriting not just a campaign but the weight of President Biden’s historically low approval ratings — that, in a peculiar twist of political psychology, became unfairly tethered to her own image. This transfer of disapproval represents one of the great ironies of her vice presidency. Despite the largely ceremonial nature of the vice presidential role, Harris found herself shouldering blame for administrative challenges that far exceeded her constitutional authority.

The reality of the vice presidency is rarely discussed with candor: it’s a position of limited direct power, designed more as a constitutional backstop than an executive force. Yet Harris entered the race with credentials that would dwarf those of most presidential candidates in American history: District Attorney of San Francisco, Attorney General of California, United States Senator, and a track record of breaking barriers at every step. Her resume wasn’t just impressive — it was extraordinary. Few candidates have ever approached the presidency with such comprehensive experience in criminal justice, state governance, and federal lawmaking.

What makes Harris’s decision to run all the more remarkable is that she did so with clear-eyed understanding of the political reality. Someone had to step up, and others wouldn’t — couldn’t. The unprecedented nature of her challenge cannot be overstated. There was no historical precedent for success under these conditions: a sitting vice president running with an incumbent president’s approval ratings at historic lows, a compressed campaign timeline of just 107 days, and the baggage of a previous unsuccessful primary bid. As one political observer noted, “You can’t point to anything and say, ‘This is why we thought we should win.’ The precedent simply doesn’t exist.”

What’s remarkable isn’t just that she ran — it’s how she ran. Despite the compressed timeframe, Harris maintained a message of unity and progress. She didn’t descend into desperation tactics or scorched-earth politics. Instead, she conducted herself with the dignity and professionalism that had characterized her entire career in public service. This wasn’t political opportunism; it was political sacrifice. The easy path would have been to decline, to preserve political capital for future opportunities. Instead, Harris chose the harder road, knowing full well the historical headwinds she faced.

The true measure of Harris’s campaign isn’t in its duration or outcome, but in its demonstration of political courage. In an era when many politicians carefully calculate every move to preserve their future prospects, Harris put service above self-preservation. She stepped into a political firestorm because leadership was needed, not because victory was assured. This willingness to risk political capital for public service represents the best of American political tradition. It’s reminiscent of those who have taken on seemingly impossible tasks throughout our history because duty called.

As we write the history of this period, let’s remember Harris not for the brevity of her campaign but for its profound significance. She deserved better than a 107-day campaign, but in those 107 days, she showed us what political courage truly looks like. In a political landscape where victory seemed impossible, she stepped forward because someone had to. That’s not just leadership — that’s the essence of public service.