With the Democratic National Convention in Chicago wrapping up today and Election Day less than three months away, Vice President Kamala Harris could take a leaf out of previous Democratic presidential candidates’ books who made a simple but weighty decision that potentially cost them the election: They didn’t tell their own story.
Do you remember John Kerry’s presidential candidacy in 2004? Kerry was never able to effectively tell his own story – the lived experiences that led him to the decisions he made, including his opposition to the war in which he had been a combatant. Instead, the Swift Boat Veterans for the Truth told their version of his story for him. Hillary Clinton was also able to 2016 tell their own story, so their opponents claimed authorship and also told their version of their story.
Kerry was never able to tell his own story effectively. Nor could Hillary Clinton in 2016. “So her opponents claimed authorship and told their version of their story as well.”
Kerry and Clinton were both well-qualified candidates to win the White House for the Democrats and entered the campaign as committed, effective public leaders. They showed us Whatt they had done – but could not show us Why. So we asked ourselves, who was the person who did all this, what values motivated their decisions. Where did those values come from? Why did they care enough to risk failure? Where did they get the hope to risk it? And when they failed, why didn’t they give up? And since this is about leadership, it’s not just about them. Did they bring values to life? We share, create common ground between us, and turn our fears into sources of hope? Could we trust them? Could we trust ourselves? Could we trust each other?
Although they were extremely well qualified for the positions they sought, both of them lost their bids for political leadership. Not because of who they were, but mainly because we did not know who they were and who we were to them.
John Kerry as a presidential candidate in New Hampshire in 2004. HECTOR MATA/AFP via Getty Images
As we rapidly approach the decisive election in November and Kamala Harris introduces herself to the American public, the most important contribution Harris alone can make to her victory is not a new policy proposal, not another online meme, not more fear-mongering rhetoric about the undeniable danger of a second Trump presidency. What she must do—and could do—is share her own story, show us who she is, remind us who we are to each other, and show us why we can give her the incredible power of the American presidency.
What could this have to do with storytelling? What could this have to do with leadership?
Storytelling in the service of leadership – what I call ““Public narrative” is not about how to, as one of my students put it, apply a glow from the outside. It’s about bringing out the glow from within. It’s not about packaging a person’s appearance as a brand, as the professional message sellers who run campaigns today do. It’s a practice that can be learned, one we’re introduced to as children: experiencing what it’s like to be confronted with disruption, having to decide how to respond (or not), and experiencing the consequences.
History teaches us “Morality,” a lesson. Because we can empathically identify with the protagonist, the moral it teaches is close to heart. So we begin to learn who a person is, what values guide their choices, and whether they have developed the character to use the authority they demand of us wisely. It’s a way of communicating who they are, reminding us who we are, and why we must choose to act now—a story about themselves, a story about us, and a story about now. And this year, the outcome of the election may well depend on whether Kamala Harris can tell us that story.
In summer 2007At the first Camp Obama in Burbank, California, my colleagues and I introduced the practice of public narrative. We had learned to share this practice, rooted in decades of social movement organizing, and to learn from that experience and teach it as leaders at the Harvard Kennedy School.
Vice President Kamala Harris at a Juneteenth celebration in Atlanta, Georgia. Photo by Peter Zay/Anadolu via Getty Images
When people arrived at Camp Obama, they expected to learn how to tell Obama’s story. He was already pretty good at it, we replied. What the volunteers in the Obama campaign could learning was, as they say their own storieswhy they were there, why they sacrificed precious hours to be there, why they decided to support him in the first place. It turned out to be an opportunity to turn all the slogans, ads, soundbites and tweets into real, relationship-based, lived experiences that even the best AI can’t fully fake – because they’re felt, not just heard.
I began this essay by asking what adversities Kerry and Clinton faced, how they overcame them, what they might have learned from them, what we might learn from them, and—most importantly—what we can learn about them from them. Equipping ourselves to deal with adversity, even to learn from it—rather than being crushed by it—is a critical challenge for all of us. How to deal with suffering is the key question that most of our faith traditions answer. Sharing moments when we have experienced adversity is not telling sad stories but can be a bridge to the experiences of others, an empathetic experience, an experience of choices in which values are real.
Adversity is a reality and can infect us (we will always be victims) or redeem us (we can find the courage to learn from it). On the other hand, it can also crush us if we fixate on blaming others or if we are so fearful that we try to avoid it at all costs – and then rely on a rescue guide who can protect us.
From Harris’ experiences, the adversities she overcame, and the way she did it, we can learn a lot about how to navigate adversity without letting it define us—whether it’s navigating different identities and cultures, growing up as an immigrant child and navigating our own private and public lives, grappling with the challenges that come with caring so deeply about justice and injustice, or wondering whether we’re going to be number one. 2 when you’re used to being the number. 1.
More than telling us that they ““knows Donald Trump’s type” from years of experience as a prosecutor, Harris must explain to us why she gave up the role of an assertive and competent prosecutor to take on the responsibility of the good of an entire country. When your counterpart is a crook, the prosecutor’s story is very tempting. But Harris is not running for district attorney; she is running for president. A president does not just right past wrongs. A president – at least the president we need – must enable us to work together toward a safe, just, and hopeful future.
“A president doesn’t just right past wrongs. A president — at least the president we need — must enable us to work together to create a safe, just and hopeful future.”
Leadership is important. If you focus only on political differences or the peculiarity of the opposition, you miss the importance of morally, politically and performatively credible leadership. What we need is not dominance or manipulation, but leadership.
The fact that we cannot forget the image of President Joe Biden’s face has nothing to do with politics, but with his effort to demonstrate his motivation and leadership qualities. Biden was undoubtedly a man of courage and integrity – his decisions in the face of life’s many challenges and tragedies are obvious – but the face we saw in the final months of his campaign showed neither, which is why he had to make the courageous decision to step down.
“Leadership is important. If you only focus on political differences or the peculiarity of the opposition, you miss the importance of morally, politically and performatively credible leadership. What we need is not dominance or manipulation, but leadership.”
Political pundits, especially Democrats, often make the mistake of believing that people decide how and whether to vote based on political issues. Most people are guided by a feeling that makes them aware of what is at stake for their own lives, those of their families, and the lives of others they care about: safety, respect, and efficacy, to name a few.
And stories stick because they teach the heart, not just the head. A storyteller’s ability to convey or retell emotional experience in the present teaches. Life histories, resumes, lists of great deeds, descriptions of policies – they all speak to the head. They inform but do not move. Stories, on the other hand, convey a much deeper truth, a felt truth, both about the storyteller and about ourselves. And as St. Augustine observed: “It is one thing ‘know the good, and a completely different ‘love it. It is love that can move us to take potentially risky actions to bring about real change.”
Can a person who asks for our trust demonstrate the integrity he deserves, the courage it requires, the effectiveness it requires? A person who can effectively pursue fraudsters is important, especially when the opponent is undoubtedly a criminal, but that alone is not enough to be president. And relying on fear of Trump – with his reactive, risk-averse defensive posture – is not enough either. Harris and her team must overcome fear to show voters the sources of their care, their vulnerability and their courage –to see them– instead of the “Leave the Person field blank so that others can fill it out according to their agenda, not their own.
There is too much at stake in this election for Kamala Harris to leave the telling of her story to the opposition. And after the high of these few weeks has passed and the memes have dissipated as they always do, what will remain is Harris telling the American public who she is and why she is the one who can bring us together to fight for the safe, just, and hopeful future we can imagine.
