Political attacks are difficult to get right, because there is often a yawning chasm between the messenger and the target audience. You may believe – with every fibre of your being – that your opponent is cruel, evil, a danger to all people everywhere. But so what?
Tony Blair, until recently Labour's only living election winner, implicitly understood this. That is why he called John Major 'weak', William Hague 'better at jokes than judgement', Michael Howard an 'opportunist' and David Cameron a 'flip-flop'. These were all fairly low wattage, and that was by design. Blair explained in his memoirs:
"Any one of those charges, if it comes to be believed, is actually fatal. Yes, it's not like calling your opponent a liar, or a fraud, or a villain or a hypocrite, but the middle-ground floating voter kind of shrugs their shoulders at those claims. They don't chime. They're too over the top, too heavy, and they represent an insult, not an argument."
Having swiftly dispatched with our Blair reference of the day, we come to Kamala Harris's vice presidential pick, Tim Walz (pronounced 'Walls' like the sausages, not 'Waltz' like the Matilda). Last month, the hitherto low-profile Governor of Minnesota went on television and described Republican vice presidential nominee, Senator J.D. Vance, as "weird". This seemingly innocuous comment struck a chord.
For years, Democrats have labelled Donald Trump a danger to democracy. And they are right. The former president stoked a riot at the Capitol which successfully prevented the peaceful transfer of power. (In that, the transfer eventually took place, but people died). Even now, Trump promises that if elected, Americans will not have to vote again. But the 'dangerous' charge has lost much of its lustre. By contrast, we all know what a weirdo is.
Unlike Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro or Arizona Senator Mark Kelly, Walz does not represent a swing state. But he brings – as a thousand profiles by better informed commentators in the last 24 hours have noted – superb 'Midwestern Dad' energy. He does what a vice presidential pick is supposed to do these days: balance the ticket. Not just be being a white man, but a former teacher and hunter. Plus, though they're the same age, Walz looks like he could be Harris's friendly retired neighbour who always has chocolate if you ask nicely.
Back in the day, picking a vice president from a crucial swing state was thought to deliver some electoral benefit. But this is not 1960, and there is no Lyndon Johnson to "deliver the South" (if, indeed, he actually did). VP picks still have the power to make things worse (see: John McCain/Sarah Palin 2008). But more often than not, they plug an apparent gap at the top of the ticket (see: Barack Obama picking Joe Biden for foreign policy heft).
Then again, I've long been struck by how Bill Clinton broke the rules. In 1992, he selected fellow young governor from the South, Al Gore, something that served not to balance but double down on the youthful, centrist energy of the Democratic ticket following a string of defeats by liberals.
I suppose, if all else fails, try not to pick someone who will attempt to undermine your entire legacy if you die in office (I'm looking at you, Mr Lincoln).
