Nikki Haley's Final Act: A Comparison to Hillary Clinton | Vanity Fair

Written by Joe Hagan

The Haleyites were elated; they were dancing, indulging in glasses of white wine, posing in playful dresses, and taking selfies with a Nikki Haley bobblehead doll. This was happening on the Saturday night of the South Carolina primary, a little over a week before Super Tuesday. The atmosphere was already tinged with a sense of unreserved fatalism while election results rolled in over CNN on a massive screen.

Having a ball at the event for “Women for Nikki,” a central group of Haley supporters and counselors, Bhavna Vasudeva - a 56-year-old Indian American broker who has been acquainted with Haley for three decades – took a break from grooving to “Radio Ga Ga” to recount her experience on Fox News the previous day. After expressing support for Haley, she was shocked to discover her phone bombarded with messages from adamant MAGA supporters, hurling an array of unpleasant four-letter terms at her.

I glanced at the messages.

“What a loathsome person!!!” was the declaration from an individual named Michael hailing from Idaho.

“I hope you don’t see the light of day tomorrow,” was the chilling message from another named Mike from Maryland.

Coming from Bryan, from Orange County, California, was: “Silence your obnoxious mouth.”

Consequently, Vasudeva's Instagram page, usually reserved for her South Carolina real estate promotions, was stormed by relentless MAGA supports.

This was a common occurrence within the “Women for Nikki” group. Jamie Finch, the group's state cochair, who had actively campaigned for Haley in South Carolina over the phone, mentioned that Trump supporters frequently insulted her with derogatory language. “I was in shock,” she confided.

These kinds of assaults were somehow expected, especially following Trump’s announcement that anyone supporting Haley’s campaign would be “indefinitely ousted” from MAGA’s realm. These incidents further highlighted the paradox of Haley’s political situation. Her campaign had transformed into something akin to a self-proclaimed Joan of Arc of the GOP, under unrelenting pressure to relinquish the nomination. As her campaign dwindled, she began using inspirational references—Taylor Swift-themed texts, emails heralding little girls who gifted her friendship bracelets, and allusions to Margaret Thatcher, the UK’s staunchly conservative prime minister. “We are fortunate to live in a nation where our daughters have the freedom to aspire to anything they set their minds to,” projected Haley.

If those who found parallels with Hillary Clinton’s historic attempt at shattering the glass ceiling didn't find them apparent, Haley’s campaign manager, Betsy Ankney, clarified that Haley was an “iconic,” “historic” figure. “Nikki Haley is the most victorious female Republican politician in history. That's an indisputable fact,” she declared during a rally in Massachusetts.

In many ways, Haley’s political journey had come full circle. She was motivated to run for Congress in South Carolina in 2004 after being inspired by a speech Clinton delivered at a women's leadership conference. “Hillary Clinton was my driving force to get into politics,” Haley stated in 2012. After Clinton's speech, she decided, “That’s it. I’m running for office,” she added.

Trump and Ron DeSantis naturally attempted to undermine Haley by drawing comparisons with Clinton during the primaries—a simple move to rile up GOP voters. Despite all that, Haley kept persevering—though extremely cautiously. “My campaign is not about identity politics,” Haley promised Republican voters from the podium, hoping to exonerate herself from allegations of wokeness. “I don't subscribe to that, nor do I believe in glass ceilings,” she added.

Haley was already in the throes of converting from a hardcore anti-abortion candidate who once backed a severe bill that banned abortion without exceptions, even for rape or incest, to a moderate pro-lifer. Though she was glad Roe v. Wade had been overturned, she hinted she'd be “okay” with signing a nationwide ban but was hesitant to advocate for it, arguing it would be impractical due to the congressional vote requirement. This delicate stance initially sparked intrigue about her 2024 candidacy when there were 12 other male candidates (“the fellas,” as she enjoyed referring to them), and Republicans were still reeling from the 2022 election setbacks on the abortion topic. Later, after initially endorsing Alabama's law recognizing embryos as humans, she began openly discussing her own fertility treatment. Her ambiguous—or intentionally vague—position invited suburban women to interpret her stance as they wished. Most of her supporters, particularly the “Women for Nikki,” doubted that Haley would remove women's personal choices, arguing that, after all, she was a woman herself—a circular logic that Haley was more than pleased to perpetuate.

After accepting her ousting from MAGA-land, Haley turned it into a marketing tactic, selling 25,000 shirts with the slogan “Barred. Permanently.” This successful maneuver garnered her $12 million in February. It was then that she started to lean into identity politics, focusing her campaign on empowering women and highlighting her own status as a minority candidate. Yet she omitted a crucial part of her earlier statement, which stated that gender disparities in sports could prevent the development of strong female leaders - a topic that once seemed central to her message.

This shift seemed to indicate that Haley had conceded her loss for the nomination and was now focusing on maintaining her political relevance in the future. However, Hillary Clinton's campaign experiences showed that focusing on gender as a political strength has rarely worked, not even for Democrats. Jennifer Palmieri, Clinton's 2016 campaign communications director, stated that society wrongly assumes women wish to vote for female candidates. Palmieri also questioned whether women would support a Republican candidate who applauded Roe v. Wade's overturning, expressing her doubts on the matter.

Haley's campaign highlighted the isolation of the political center in America. Haley claimed to promise a return to normalcy. However, the definition of 'normal' in 2024 is questionable. The political middle appears to be a shaky coalition of unhappy Republicans, disappointed independents, and centrist Democrats dissatisfied with Biden or wanting to vote against Trump twice. Interestingly, despite claiming she isn't a Never Trumper and wouldn't run on the No Labels ticket alongside a Democrat, Haley seemed to appeal to a voter base of Never Trumpers and Democrats. An exit poll by CNN showed that 81% of Haley voters cast their ballots against Trump rather than for Haley, while only 18% of Trump voters specified their vote was against Haley.

The more frequently Haley criticized Trump, the more ambiguous her political stance became. This increased ambiguity resulted in California Governor Gavin Newsom referring to Haley as “one of our better surrogates.” The Biden campaign might utilize data on Haley's primary voters to sway undecided voters, especially in swing states.

While it's difficult to pinpoint Haley’s political compass, in broad terms she positioned herself as a fiscal conservative, an aggressive foreign policy advocate, and a Barack Obama-like figure who seeks unity above partisanship. Although these traits molded an uncertain blend, she regularly depicted Trump and Biden as embodiments of American dissatisfaction. Haley's campaign lacked authenticity in the eyes of some, with even her teary-eyed speech about her deployed husband coming under scrutiny. However, this perspective only emphasized the ongoing mistrust associated with her changing political identity. For the record, I believe her tears were genuine.

In truth, Haley was politically “normal” in self-declaration only. She voted twice for the man who snuffed out normalcy in American politics; she worked in his administration; she argued on the campaign trail that he was “the right president at the right time,” even as she tried torching his record on pretty much every issue. So which was it? Before she started attacking Trump in earnest, after New Hampshire, and embracing her status as a pioneering woman of color, she was unable to bring herself to state the obvious: that slavery was the cause of the Civil War, that America had a history of profound racism. Last summer, she blasted Jason Aldean’s racially charged country anthem, “Try That in a Small Town,” at her rallies in a sad attempt to win over rural voters.

By running as a woman in a party that dislikes women—or likes its women more like Marjorie Taylor Greene, which is to say anti-woman—she was trapped in a pincer of her own making. As a MAGA-voting woman interviewed on Fox News said on Super Tuesday, from a diner in Texas, “I wouldn’t vote for a woman, and especially Nikki Haley. She’s probably menopausal. We don’t need that.”

In Massachusetts, three days before she lost the state by 23 percentage points, Haley had begun calling her support a “movement.” Afterward, Ankney told me, “Nikki has tapped into a movement of people who want something hopeful. They want something positive.”

But even if you accepted the premise, it was unclear what Haley intended to do with any ostensible movement, how she might translate it into political capital after the primaries. I asked several Haley voters the same question on the trail: If their candidate were to return to Trump’s circle, like Lindsey Graham before her, how would they feel? All but one told me they were revolted by the idea. “I’m not sure this is the party for me anymore,” said Haley’s old friend Vasudeva, who has never voted for a Democrat in her life. “You know, I don’t feel welcome at all. I don’t feel represented; I feel alienated. And instead of [the GOP] pushing toward me—they’re supposed to be the unifier—they’re pushing me away and creating even bigger barriers.”

Back in Charleston, during her concession speech, Haley withheld her endorsement from Trump—for now. Perhaps it was an attempt to preserve the integrity of the message she had fought for; perhaps withholding an endorsement improved its political value for the future. With her political role seemingly limited to the Tim Scott toady or the Liz Cheney outcast, she instead challenged Trump to invite the normies into the MAGA tent. As she told The Wall Street Journal the week before, “He’s not going to get the 40% if he is not willing to change and do something that acknowledges the 40%” (italics mine).

She seemed to suggest there was a test that Trump could pass, with Nikki Haley as arbiter. It’s impossible to believe Trump would care one way or the other what Haley has to say, but the opposite question hangs in the air: Might we see Nikki Haley give Trump a passing grade and rejoin the MAGA movement?