Back in 2016, as Michelle Obama was doing a campaign speech for Hillary Clinton, she urged a way to deal with bullies like Donald Trump.
“When they go low, we go high,” the former first lady said.
Later, once the catchphrase had caught on, she explained that “when someone is cruel or acts like a bully, you don’t stoop to their level”.
Taking the high road sounded inspiring and possibly effective. Was it? Trump never stopped his horrid ways; but the Democrats, having lost to him in 2016, managed to defeat him in 2020 with Joe Biden, known for his empathy and decency.
However you evaluate that, the Democrats feel like a different party these days. Their tone has changed from lofty to earthy.
Consider the squawking chickens. When Trump waffled on whether he’d participate in the next presidential candidate debate, Kamala Harris’s campaign didn’t exactly go high. Instead, they posted barnyard sound effects and emoji over footage of Trump speaking and asked if he was getting scared.
An Axios headline summarized the new tone: “Taunting Trump: Harris campaign’s sneer tactics.”
The digital campaign team operating out of Wilmington, Delaware, “has pivoted from the stuffier, decorous Biden for President campaign to a saucier, more ruthless Harris for President campaign”.
And don’t forget the couch jokes.
Prominent Democrats, including Elizabeth Warren and Tim Walz, have made a few none-too-subtle wisecracks about an untrue rumor that Trump running mate JD Vance had an unusual relationship with some living-room furniture.
The basis for this sordid tale has been debunked. The Associated Press not only fact-checked the claim, but then deleted the fact-check, which was headlined, No, JD Vance did not have sex with a couch.
Nevertheless, uproarious cheers and laughter followed when Warren took her shot, speaking at the Democratic national convention about the need for an economy that benefits working people: “Trust Donald Trump and JD Vance to look out for your family? Shoot, I wouldn’t trust them to move my couch.”
The conservative New York Post tut-tutted: “Elizabeth Warren makes crude couch joke in apparent reference to JD Vance.” Steven Cheung , a Trump spokesperson, complained to Axios: “Acting like whiny schoolchildren is not a political strategy, but it is a coping mechanism for the Kamala campaign who knows they have a weak candidate incapable of being authentic.”
Somehow, charges of immaturity ring a little hollow from this crowd, led by a former president who specializes in dumb nicknames and cringey insults, from “Little Marco” Rubio to “Sleepy Joe” Biden.
Trump occasionally tries to claim the high ground but may need more practice. Last year he posted about the Florida governor, then a rival for the Republican nomination: “I will never call Ron DeSanctimonious ‘Meatball’ Ron, as the Fake News is insisting I will.”
Besides, the Harris campaign’s irreverence isn’t really all that low. Pete Buttigieg, the transportation secretary, who should be appointed talker-in-chief, had the perfect response when challenged to defend Barack Obama’s suggestive hand-gesture joke (big? small?) about Trump’s obsession with crowd size.
“We aren’t completely above the temptation to tweak our opponents,” Buttigieg admitted, while noting that the Harris campaign’s overall tone is positive and forward-looking, not mired in darkness and grievance.
How effective is this counterpunching? After hesitating for days about the debate, Trump finally agreed to show up in Philadelphia next month.
Did his capitulation have anything to do with suggestions that he was a coward? Any relationship to the chickens squawking as they crossed the low road?
Maybe not. But for the Harris campaign, the barnyard noises do seem to be delivering the intended message.
Margaret Sullivan is a Guardian US columnist writing on media, politics and culture
