At its inception, this year’s American Presidential campaign drew comparisons with the 1968 clash between Richard Nixon and Hubert Humphrey. As in ‘68, an unpopular President — then Lyndon B. Johnson, now Joe Biden — has stepped aside, handing the reins over to a vice president whose previous attempt at the party nomination ended in defeat. On the Republican ticket stands a polarising figure, not entirely in-step with the party’s mainstream, who promises to restore law and order, fix the economy, and end an unpopular foreign war. 

Yet upon watching last week’s first Harris-Trump debate, I was struck by another comparison. I was not reminded of Nixon’s barnstorming 1968 campaign, but of Hillary Clinton’s failed 2016 run — and it was Trump, not Harris, who most obviously invited the comparison.

Despite a favourable national environment, Trump could lose this year’s election for all of the same reasons that Clinton lost in 2016. Unless he and his campaign change direction significantly, The Great Populist is set to fumble his best opportunity for a second term in the White House. 

As much as it pains me to say this, Trump is no longer as funny as he used to be. The levity and irreverence that characterised his 2016 campaign is nowhere to be found. This is an older, angrier man, who has seen what the American establishment is capable of, and who is now hell-bent on destroying his political enemies. He seems tired, and is prone to occasional lapses in focus. In a campaign that was initially set to be characterised by Joe Biden’s senility, Trump now looks far older than his Democratic opponent — who is, to be fair, almost two decades his junior. None of this is helped by Trump’s close association with Elon Musk, a brilliant but fundamentally millennial man who cannot resist the temptation to post cringe on main. 

Most devastatingly, Trump also embodies the entitlement that was the source of Clinton’s undoing. There is a pervasive sense amongst Republicans that a second Trump term is inevitable — and this overconfidence is leading Team Trump to make unsound tactical decisions. His campaign’s spending patterns are bizarre, with almost no spending in key states such as North Carolina and Arizona. His once-packed rally schedules have slowed significantly. The epitome of Trump’s hubris was the selection of JD Vance as his running mate, a pick which made no effort to expand the Republican ticket’s appeal — Vance was obviously selected with a view towards government, rather than with a view towards the election. Unfortunately, in a race as close as this one, squandering the opportunity to bolster Trump’s energetic base with a different sort of Republican — perhaps North Dakota’s Doug Burgum — may prove to be fatal.

And on the other side of the aisle, Kamala Harris possesses a charisma that American conservatives just can’t bring themselves to recognise, but which is nevertheless having a very real effect on American voters. In 2016, the American establishment was repelled by Trump’s brash, combative style, which tapped into Middle America’s frustration with the status quo. This year, like it or not, Kamala Harris is the more natural public performer of the two candidates, embodying a kind of tipsy wine aunt appeal that will be repellant to the Republican base, but vaguely charming to suburban women — a vital bellwether group with whom Trump performs poorly. In failing to recognise the reality of Harris’ idiosyncratic charisma, Trump et al leave themselves uniquely vulnerable to it. The last-minute switcheroo on the Democratic ticket has allowed Harris to present herself as an outsider, despite her complicity in the last administration.

Of course, perfect parallels never exist in electoral politics. 2024 has its own dynamics — whether the state of the American economy, the crisis at the Southern Border, or the sudden uptick in cat-based haute cuisine in the American midwest. If 2016’s most memorable line was about grabbing her by the proverbial, then 2024’s may well be Trump’s mid-debate foray into the alleged Haitian penchant for pussycats. 

… don’t discount the idea that Trump’s defeat could come at his own hand

And for my money, if Trump does lose, it will be demographics — rather than campaign strategy — that spell his doom. That’s not just the impact of immigration, either — America is becoming more suburban, a shift which is particularly concentrated in swing states such as Georgia, Arizona, and Pennsylvania. Trump/Vance is a particularly toxic ticket amongst suburban voters, who seem almost uniquely turned-off by their big, bold brand of patriotic conservatism.

But don’t discount the idea that Trump’s defeat could come at his own hands. As a figure of global importance and attention, we have all grown accustomed to Trump’s persona, but this is not the same man who burst onto the scene in late 2015. Back then, he was unburdened by what had been — a genuine outsider, and genuinely entertaining. Today, he is older, more irritable, and surrounded by a cadre of polished career politicians looking to ride his coattails. Like so many ageing politicians past their prime, 2024 could prove to be one bridge too far for Donald Trump. Many such cases.