In August 2024, televisions aired the acceptance speech of Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris. “Thank you, thank you,” she began her speech.
“Too many thank yous,” then-Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump told the room. At one point during her speech, Harris described her opponent to the crowd as an “unserious man.” Sitting just inches away from the man himself was Trump’s communication team, which included a 27-year-old woman with a laptop.
As Harris spoke, Karoline Leavitt wasn’t just watching; she was analyzing, counter-punching, and helping the 45th and 47th president of the United States craft the narrative that would flicker across millions of smartphones within seconds. “She’s talking about how great San Francisco was before she destroyed it, probably,” Trump dictated. She nodded, her fingers already flying across the keyboard.
This is the new front line of American politics. It is young, it is female, it is digital-first, and it is led by the youngest press secretary in the history of the White House.
Leavitt’s journey to the most visible podium in the world did not follow the traditional path of Ivy League law degrees followed by decades of low-level staff work.
“My first job was selling ice cream,” she once said in an interview. Born and raised in a middle-class family in Atkinson, New Hampshire, Leavitt studied politics and communication at Saint Anselm College, where she wrote for the school newspaper and founded a broadcasting club before graduating in 2019.
“I always had a curiosity – an innate curiosity – about the world and what was happening,” she says. That curiosity led her to an internship in the Trump White House during his first term, where she quickly caught the eye of then-press secretary Kayleigh McEnany, who appointed her as assistant White House press secretary in June 2020.
Meticulous preparation to walk into a room of hostile journalists
Under McEnany, Leavitt learned the art of “the binder” – the meticulous preparation required to walk into a room of hostile journalists and emerge not just unscathed but victorious. She saw firsthand how the traditional media establishment could be bypassed through direct communication and a refusal to accept the premise of a reporter’s question.
After the 2020 election, Leavitt didn’t retreat. She returned to her home state and ran for Congress at the age of 24.
While she didn’t win the seat, she won something more important: the enduring respect of Donald Trump. He saw in her a “conservative fighter” who spoke the language of the MAGA movement with the polish of a seasoned professional.
“He’s a great boss to work for. He’s fun, he’s hilarious – one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. He has a great sense of humor, and he’s incredibly kind,” she said in an interview this year.
By the time the 2024 campaign rolled around, there was no doubt who would lead the communication shop. Leavitt was named national spokesperson, and shortly after giving birth to her son, Niko, the assassination attempt on then-candidate Trump brought her back on the trail, proving that the “Golden Age of America” she often speaks of is a vision she lives daily.
To understand the Leavitt White House, one must understand the philosophy behind it. Matthew Boyle, the Washington Bureau chief of Breitbart News and one who knows well the administration’s media tactics, describes the Leavitt concept as press secretary as a “move toward total transparency for the base and total combat with the establishment.”
He points to a running joke among White House staffers: “More sombreros, not less” (referring to the period in which the White House issued videos of democratic politicians wearing sombreros in order to say they support undocumented immigrants).
“The Trump White House, and Karoline Leavitt in particular, have embraced the concept of more voices, not less,” Boyle says.
In her first week as press secretary, the administration decided to open the White House Press Briefing Room to a vast array of digital media outlets, podcasters, and independent journalists who were previously barred by the “gatekeepers” of the traditional press corps. “I was one of those media outlets that were barred from entering the briefing room during the Biden term,” Boyle says. By doing so, Leavitt has diluted the power of the major networks.
She does not work alone, but as part of a team that mirrors her youth, her loyalty to Trump, and her abilities.
Anna Kelly, her deputy press secretary, only a year older than Leavitt, is a veteran of the beauty pageant circuit who traded the stage for the political arena. She embodies the “strong women” narrative that the administration is eager to project.
“It’s really exciting to be part of an administration where we’re having fun,” Kelly says.
If Leavitt and Kelly are the voice, then Margo Martin, the deputy director of communications, is the eye. Often seen standing just behind the president with a smart phone in hand, Martin is the “fly on the wall.” She captures the behind-the-scenes moments – the president joking with world leaders, the late-night strategy sessions, the moments of levity – and turns them into viral content.
As Boyle notes, Martin is “very good at showcasing other people in the spotlight.” Her work demonstrates that the president really values communication as a visual medium. Martin’s “raw” and immediate style of digital documentation is a masterclass in modern political branding.
Israel watches Karoline Leavitt with vested interest
In Israel, the changing of the guard at the White House podium is being watched with intense interest. Ariel Sender, the Republican Party’s representative in Israel, sees the Leavitt team as a bridge between the two nations’ most innovative political minds.
“Karoline is a very young and ambitious woman,” Sender says. “She knows how to identify processes and provide very accurate and sharp scenarios and answers.
“There is no evasion with Karoline,” he adds. “The answer is very direct and unequivocal. It doesn’t lead to a chain of endless questions because she addresses the core of the issue immediately.”
For Israeli diplomats, this means the end of the era of “strategic ambiguity” or the carefully worded “diplomatese” of the State Department is nigh.
When Leavitt speaks from the podium, she is speaking with the unfiltered authority of the president of the United States. If she says the “golden age” includes a secure Israel, the administration is prepared to back that up with the same “machine gun” intensity she brings to her press conferences.
Leavitt often challenges the premise of questions asked by journalists. In a recent viral clip, Leavitt pointedly told a reporter, “You’re a biased reporter with a left-wing opinion... you’re a left-wing hack. You’re not a reporter; you’re posing in this room as a journalist.”
While critics call this an assault on the free press, Leavitt’s supporters see it as a necessary defense against a media landscape they view as irredeemably biased.
Trump himself famously praised her style, noting her “lips that don’t stop... like a little machine gun.”
Leavitt’s delivery is rapid, factual (from the administration’s perspective), and relentless. She has mastered the art of the “Gish Gallop” at the podium – showering reporters with so many statistics and counterpoints that they struggle to formulate a follow-up.
Will Leavitt's media style outlast Trump?
As the Trump administration settles into its stride, the question remains: Will the Leavitt model of communication outlast the man who inspired it?
Boyle believes it will. The shift toward digital-first, the bypassing of legacy media, and the “more sombreros” approach to the press corps is a genie that cannot be put back in the bottle. Leavitt has not just changed the face of the White House press secretary; she has changed the job description.
As she often tells the press room, “The Golden Age of America has most definitely begun.” Whether or not that proves true in the history books, one thing is certain: Karoline Leavitt will be the one at the podium, defending that vision with every word, every tweet, and every “machine gun” response.