Act your age
Joe Biden's problem isn't that he's old. It's that he wants us to think he's not.
It’s been a tough, tough week in the teetering cradle of democracy. I hesitated to write about Joe Biden’s disastrous debate performance last week for three reasons: I didn’t watch it, so I’m a bad judge of entertaining TV; I predicted it’d change nothing, so I’m a fool; and I really didn’t want to pile on to a president who’s done an historically good job.
But …
He’s cooked. And while op-ed writers are wringing their hands about why and how Biden has somehow become the rank underdog to a barely coherent Cheeto, I still think the failure here is largely one of perception. Or, more to the point, the failure of Biden and his enablers to frame his presidency and candidacy correctly.
The man is old. Period. The calendar and actuarial tables are what they are—we can’t bend them to our will, no matter how much money those idiot tech bros burn trying to outwit nature. Four years ago, age worked to Biden’s advantage: the nation saw him as steady and capable; a comfy recliner after four years on a rollercoaster carriage that had jumped the tracks, was on fire, airborne, and headed straight for a shallow wading pool filled with shit.
Biden was the right man at the right moment. And I’d argue he’d only just become ready for the presidency: the sharp edges of his ambition and arrogance had been dulled by decades of pain and loss, both personal and professional. His humility and empathy was a stark counterpoint to Trump, who was and remains a toxic mix of insecurity and inferiority masked by bluff and bluster.
The other big factor that helped Biden during the 2020 campaign was the pandemic. Not for the political boost of facing a man whose poor leadership led to countless additional deaths among the 1.2 million Americans who died of COVID1 but the fact traditional campaigning was impossible. Biden won the presidency basically via Zoom calls.
Yet neither Biden nor his team seemed to absorb the critical lesson of all this: that his experience, ideas, and the contrast with Trump was enough. He didn’t need to pretend to be something—or someone—he wasn’t. More particularly, he didn’t need to pretend to be a young, vibrant leader trapped in Joe Biden’s body.
But what did we get once the smoke cleared? Joe on a mountain bike, falling off. Joe running to stages, tripping over. Joe in aviator sunglasses, forgetting how to deliver zingers. Joe zipping around the world for meetings, jet lag be damned. Joe giving speeches but losing his train of thought and rambling. Joe, his hair plugs and suspiciously smooth complexion firmly fixed, desperately trying to convince everyone he was vibrant, vital, and a living reflection of a youth obsessed nation.2
Now imagine an alternate scenario where Biden instead embraces his age. Where he alters his schedule to account for the fact he is—spoiler alert—old. Where he assumes the role of a wisened elder statesman, ceding the spotlight to the competent colleagues he’s championed. Where he gives lots more speeches so no one is surprised by what they see, but those speeches are softer and self deprecating. Where he goes out of his way to admit he’s lost a step, but that’s neither the point nor a problem: the presidency is about much more than whether the nation thinks you even lift, bro.
That scenario would generate empathy, not sympathy. It would cast Biden in the role he evolved to play: the right man at the right time, with the experience to steer the nation through the pandemic and the economic disaster he was bequeathed as well as the gravitas to repel the advances of a man who asks only what the country can do for him and who would undo two centuries of halting but miraculous progress.
When you look past the optics, Biden’s messaging has been solid. He’s trying to sell the American public on the threat Trump poses, while seeking to elevate the significant accomplishments of the past four years. But the problem is you can’t ignore those optics. The White House squirreling him away only intensified the pressure on his rare public appearances, and what the public saw last week was a train wreck. It left even his staunchest supporters convinced he was incapable of winning his final campaign, let alone governing until they wheel him out at the age of 86.
All candidates for office swear it’s full-steam ahead until they hold a press conference withdrawing. And we’ve no idea how hard this decision must be, especially for someone who remains convinced—not without good reason—he’d be infinitely better than his opponent. But if this race is truly about the future of the US republic, winning is the only option. That’s it. And winning requires Biden doing what I suspect, deep down, he knows is right, even if his heart hasn’t quite caught up with his head.
I’m 51. Biden took office as a US senator four months before I was born. His is a long, distinguished career filled with wins and missteps, lots of lows and gravity-defying highs. But he surely knows the choice he now faces. He can stay, most likely lose, and be forever remembered as the president who refused to bow to reality and, as a result, ensured the return of the worst president in the country’s history and the acceleration of America’s decline.
Or he can gracefully step aside, admitting what everyone now sees. He can declare his work done—defeating Trump, resurrecting the country’s global reputation, steering it through the worst pandemic in a century, righting the world’s biggest economy, and advancing causes from equality to climate change. And he can pass the torch to a generation of leaders ready to rally a majority of Americans eager to avoid Trump Part Deux. Standing aside would clearly mark Biden as one of the greatest US presidents. No matter his insistence on fighting the dying light, that opportunity is surely not lost on a man so steeped in the nation’s history.
No one knows exactly what’s going to happen. But politics is about momentum, and the momentum for Biden to step aside—coming not from the peanut gallery but the most serious and sober senior leaders of his party—is rapidly becoming unstoppable. So, we’ll see what the next week brings. And we’ll hope attention can soon turn to what’s really important: shining a spotlight on the other guy, who’s 78, a convicted felon, a failed businessman, and a terrible former president feared by many but respected by none. It may not be fair that Biden’s being pushed aside to find someone capable of highlighting Trump’s innumerable flaws. But it’s all about winning.
Note: The photo accompanying this is by Getty Images’ Drew Angerer.
A note about whatever this is …
After writing a few thousand articles for newspapers and magazines, I spent a long time trying a bunch of other stuff. I guess I figured what came (relatively) easily must by definition be less valuable, so I wandered in the corporate wilderness, becoming increasingly frustrated and doing work that felt increasingly lousy.
Sometimes with age comes wisdom, and I’ve realized finding something (relatively) easy ain’t a bad thing. So, this is a space where I’m resurrecting writing for myself, on topics weird and wild and wonderful.
Posts will appear when the mood takes me, but I do try to be consistently inconsistent—sometimes it’ll be a couple of days between drinks; sometimes a week. But if you subscribe, you’ll get a email letting you know I’m ranting. Again.
When Trump wasn’t refusing to wear a mask or practice simple measures to prevent the spread of the disease, he was wondering why people couldn’t be injected with bleach while undermining his own health experts.
How youth obsessed? Summer camps are literally sending letters to parents telling them their kids can’t bring bag loads of cosmetics to the deep woods. “I remember being a camper and counselors would have to beg us to shower,” one camp counselor told the New York Times. “And now all the girls just beg every single day: ‘I want to shower. I need to do my hair routine, my skin care.’ Like, they beg and beg and beg.”