In her memoir “107 Days,” Kamala Harris wrote that Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro asserted he would “make every decision” if elected vice president, which left Shapiro quite upset. He called her statement “bullish” and a “blatant lie.” However, Shapiro’s forthcoming memoir indicates that tensions with Harris are still unresolved, as it contains some provocative stories. It’s also revealed that during the vice-presidential vetting process, the Harris team asked Shapiro whether he had ever acted as an Israeli agent—an inquiry that echoes lingering stereotypes about Jewish dual loyalty.
This narrative is damaging for Harris in several ways. It highlights her team’s clumsiness and raises allegations of potential anti-Semitism. Even Joe Biden’s former envoy on anti-Semitism described the Harris team’s questioning as “horrific.” Shapiro’s revelations serve as a reminder to Harris about a fundamental rule in politics: don’t put anything in writing that could come back to haunt you.
Historically, memoirs by disgruntled political figures often elicit strong reactions from those mentioned. A similar incident occurred when Arthur Schlesinger published “A Thousand Days,” a memoir of the Kennedy administration. Certain members of the Kennedy circle, including Jackie Kennedy, were offended by some of the personal revelations, with Dean Rusk, Kennedy’s Secretary of State, notably irritated by his portrayal in the book.
In other cases, such as Charlie Kolb’s “White House Days,” the fallout was more systematic. Kolb’s book, penned after George H.W. Bush’s defeat in the 1992 election, sharply criticized key figures in the Bush administration. His sour reception from former colleagues underscored how writing an exposé can lead to social exile within political circles.
Unlike Kolb, George Stephanopoulos’ “All Too Human” was released while Bill Clinton was still in office. This got under the skin of several Clinton aides, some labeling him a “traitor” after he criticized the president’s behavior concerning the Monica Lewinsky scandal. Another contentious memoir from Scott McClellan, “What Happened,” directly challenged George W. Bush’s decisions and invited similar backlash from the administration.
These kinds of responses are anticipated from those minor players caught in the crossfire of negative memoirs. John Bolton likely braced for criticism from Donald Trump after his own scathing account of his time in the administration. Yet, he may not have foreseen that it would lead to scrutiny over classified information as well.
Memoir writers don’t always use specific names; sometimes they can convey feelings using anonymous foes, which can lessen the chance of retaliation. Harris might have learned this the hard way by directly naming Shapiro, making him far more inclined to strike back. While memoirs are part of the political landscape, Harris should have recognized that taking aim at a tactically astute figure like Shapiro would come with repercussions. Perhaps had she been more attuned to political history, she might have gauged the pitfalls of her comments—further highlighting a gap in her political savvy, exposing her to Shapiro’s retorts.
