It was a nondescript morning at a Courtyard by Marriott in Independence, Ohio, where I found myself sharing breakfast with Tim Walz. The lingering shadow of Kamala Harris, his former running mate, still lingers in his title as governor, albeit of a state that isn’t Ohio—nor West Virginia, Iowa, Wisconsin, Nebraska, or Texas, all places he had recently frequented. A baffling three-day sojourn around northeastern Ohio involved labor discussions, haphazard roadside visits, and a couple of town halls. Like many, I was left puzzled about his underlying objective.
As a typical Democrat, this two-term Minnesota governor appeared as though still grappling to comprehend the tumultuous events of the previous summer and the following autumn. The seismic shift of Election Night 2024 and the subsequent unraveling nightmares seemed to baffle him and his party. Mirroring his party’s stance, he seemed uncertain about combating the daily challenges thrown by the second Donald Trump administration. It appeared that Walz was making it up on the fly, with an apparent urge to reignite the resistance against the Trump government.
On another morning, over a typical breakfast plate of oatmeal and banana slices, his reverie about his disastrous vice-presidential campaign—his ’90-day Eras Tour,’ as he put it—seemed more a desperate attempt to make sense of his own political journey. It may be a catchy phrase, but comparing his journey to Taylor Swift’s Era’s Tour seemed far-fetched, especially considering Swift’s continued success in stark contrast to Walz’s abrupt, and unfortunate, crash-landing on the political landscape.
These recent expeditions potentially signal Walz’s feeble attempt at a political comeback on the national scene. Watching him try to navigate the political mazes, I couldn’t help but find his leadership aspirations an unfitting choice, especially for Democrats in current dire circumstances. Seemingly self-aware, he often conceded his less than ideal position to lead the political party, notably during a town hall meeting in Youngstown.
According to Walz, he would be ‘the last person’ to guide the party on the right path, considering his humbling defeat in the previous election. He was the man ‘who got his posterior handed to him.’ While the self-deprecating humor might resonate with a certain crowd, it’s hard not to see it as a thin veil of desperation during a time marked with grim jesting.
The DeYor Performing Arts Center in Youngstown certainly played along, with an eager crowd of around 2,800 people, including those in a jam-packed overflow room. On the following night, approximately 2,000 people flocked to witness the spectacle of Walz in a high school auditorium in Lorain, Ohio.
Despite the political tragedy that circles him, Walz’s town halls had a unique magnetism. They played out as a strange combination of group counseling, strategic ideation, and collective grumbling. Walz seemed to place an extreme emphasis on the power of citizen participation as the Democrat’s singular ‘weapon.’
His increasing theatricality didn’t miss a beat. ‘One man ought not to possess the power to ravage the global economy,’ he professed in Youngstown. He blamed the Congress for failing to check Trump, who now allegedly defies court orders. ‘This, ladies and gentlemen,’ he declared, ‘is a textbook example of a constitutional crisis.’
However, Walz seemed hopeful—or perhaps it was just desperation. ‘There is one final safety net,’ Walz stated over the burgeoning applause. ‘The people,’ he repeated. ‘The people will be the resolution.’ Is this optimism or just a political strategy?
The curious question of ‘running for something’ was unavoidable, as Walz’s three-day trip mirrored an elaborate campaign trail. Staring across a wooden table at Walz, now joined by ex-Ohio Governor Ted Strickland, it became evident that these random encounters were part of his political tactics—or perhaps just his way of filling the void.
Was this an authentic demonstration of longing for the campaign trail, or was it simply a manifestation of Walz’s personal emptiness? He projected a palpable vacuum filling him. Yet the spectators, intriguingly, stayed. They clung to their hopes, cheering for the proverbial underdog who didn’t have a great record in the last election.