Congresswomen against Trump, TikTokers, Swifties and ceasefire delegates: A journey into the Democratic convention

Matthew Rothschild boasts of being a friend of Kamala Harris since they met when they were both lawyers in San Francisco; before she was district attorney, attorney general of California, a senator in Washington, vice president and, just over a month ago, the unexpected Democratic candidate for the White House who holds a slight lead, according to the latest polls, over her rival, Donald Trump.

Rothschild, now retired, was sporting a homemade hat on Monday, the first day of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, with a not-so-faithful effigy of the candidate surrounded by “Christmas ornaments.” Understandably, he is “excited” about the change in a party that has united around the successor on the ballot to President Joe Biden, who withdrew in July. “Although you should have met Kamala’s mother [oncologist Shyamala Gopalan],” Rothschild clarified in an interview with EL PAÍS. “She would have won the election hands down.”

Moderate triumphalism and confidence such of that of Harris’ friend permeate a convention that runs through Thursday and that until not so long ago more closely resembled the announcement of a funeral. The Midwestern city, armed to the teeth, has welcomed more than 50,000 attendees, including politicians, Gaza war protesters, volunteers, TikTokers, celebrities, journalists, and the 4,500 delegates from the 50 states and associated and overseas territories.

All of them wander through the dozens of streets, blocked off as in a post-apocalyptic movie, around the two main stages: the United Center, the home of the Chicago Bulls, where the convention proper is held every afternoon and evening, and a gigantic auditorium in which the different factions of the party hold their meetings in the morning.

In the latter an event called Dempalooza has been organized, a kind of trade fair for companies with affiliation to the Democrats, with speeches included, where one can get a manicure or a photo with a life-size cardboard Kamala, designer coconut t-shirts — an unofficial motif of the Harris campaign — donate to a non-profit organization promoting something that seems impossible in the United States — the election of openly atheist or agnostic politicians — or dance to the contagious rhythm of Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now, the Philadelphia anthem, from the decisive state of Pennsylvania, penned by McFadden & Whitehead.

When things get down to business in the afternoon, the delegates drive across the big city to the Bulls stadium and arm themselves with patience to enter the “perimeter,” a fortress whose security was reinforced on Tuesday morning after an isolated incident between the police and protesters calling for a ceasefire in Gaza near the convention building. Once inside, they play the popular game “spot the congressman or CNN commentator” in the hallways, mostly so they can grab a selfie with, for example, the representative of the party’s left wing, Ilhan Omar.

The shadow of the assault on the Capitol

Under a statue that recalls that this place was once inhabited by a demigod named Michael Jordan, Senator Ed Markey on Tuesday listed the things that in his opinion are on the November ballot: “Democracy, freedom, and women’s rights.” A little further away, Mississippi representative Bennie Thompson, who chaired the committee that investigated the assault on the Capitol on January 6, 2021, stated his hope in a conversation with this newspaper that the memory of that episode will influence the election. “What happened almost four years ago was a warning: if we do not practice what we preach, we run the risk of ending up in the hands of lunatics, also known as ‘those Republican politicians.’”

On the first day, the arena took a long time to fill up, while the planned schedules were rearranged one after the other. It was perhaps because the terrain had to be marked: the place reserved for this or that state on the big stage of the convention carried, like everything else in Washington, a political reading and a component of hierarchical humiliation. Thus, the most powerful, important or decisive territories for the party are arranged close to the stage. Others, such as Washington, where the Democrats would win by default (and which, to top it off, is “one of the last to vote on election night,” as one of their representatives complained), view the speeches from afar.

The “uncommitted,” such as Sheig Freeberg from Minnesota, can be recognized by a badge that reads “Ceasefire Delegate.” Freeberg belongs to the group who chose to cast blank votes during the primary contest in protest at the Biden administration’s support for Israel’s war in Gaza. “We support Harris,” Freeberg said Monday, “but we need her to make a commitment that, if she wins, on day one in the White House she will end the genocide.”

Despite these isolated demands, or those of the delegates from Puerto Rico, who, as Senator Carmelo Ríos recalled, continue to fight for recognition as a state (they are people of merit: they are mobilizing for the victory of a candidate whom U.S. law does not allow them to vote for), the atmosphere in Chicago is one of optimism. One might say even more so than at the Republican convention in Milwaukee last month, which seemed impossible then, presided over by an almost invincible Trump, fresh from surviving an assassination attempt.

The MAGA talent for costumes and the imagination of Trump’s designers are, of course, unsurpassed; although in Chicago it is possible to conclude that the taste for extravagance and the passion for circus are not partisan tendencies. There to prove it was Chris Potter, a delegate from Seattle, wearing a “Miss” sash that read “Cowboy Kamala” (in reality, he said, it was a tribute to Beyoncé, around whom rumors of an appearance at the convention are circulating). Or Kelly Jacobs, who, arriving from Mississippi, wore a dress with a drawing, on one side, of Kamala Harris, “thanks to whom the party has regained faith,” and on the other of Taylor Swift. Jacobs is confident the singer will announce her support for Harris, to the chagrin of Trump, who on Monday spread an AI-generated image of Swift apparently drumming up votes for the former president. A surprise appearance by Swift is another persistent rumor in Chicago, anticipated with open arms by believers in miracles.

The convention is expecting other celebrities (such as Spike Lee, who was there on Monday, or actress Julia Louis-Dreyfus), but an appearance by the Shake It Off! singer would certainly relieve some of Harris’ troubles at the polls. It would also provide days, or, what the hell, even weeks, of content for the 200 influencers invited by the party to spread the Democratic message on social media.

Eve (“no last name, please, for security reasons”) is one of them. She explained that she works on an account dedicated to the defense of abortion rights called @gemma_talks. She was with dozens of other TikTokers and Instagrammers in one of the three “creative rooms” set up in the stadium. “I think they treat us better than the press,” she said. Aside from her uncritical embrace of the party’s messages, the latest species to join the convention ecosystem are also easy to distinguish by their zeal for collecting the event’s posters, which, yes, are displaying an enviable inventiveness.

In addition to the usual Harris-Walz campaign ads, volunteers on Monday first handed out poster boards reading “U-S-A,” perhaps to appropriate a common chant at Trump rallies (or perhaps because it can easily mutate into another chant, “A-O-C,” the initials of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, one of the stars of the first day). Later, they handed out pro-union signs to brandish while Shawn Fain called Trump a “scab” on stage. There were green signs bearing the first lady’s name, Jill Biden, to cheer her on when it was her turn to speak, and, at the end of the night, others expressing the love of attendees for President Biden, without whose withdrawal from the race none of this political circus would have been remotely similar.

Sign up for our weekly newsletter to get more English-language news coverage from EL PAÍS USA Edition