Like Trump, Biden Will Regret Playing Savior

I t may well be the case, as Shakespeare had it, that “the King is but a man” and that “the violet does indeed smell to him as it doth to me,” but, if so, it is not entirely obvious that our presidents know it. As the years have progressed, Americans have come to expect their leaders to be national avatars, into whose wise hands we place our national destiny. And, alas, far from pushing back with a confused and humble “please don’t,” those leaders have been all too happy to acquiesce. President Trump vowed that “I alone can fix” because he intuited that this was what voters wished to hear. Likewise, President Biden affirmed that he would “shut down the virus” because he sensed that the citizenry would prefer to believe that the destiny of COVID-19 was contingent upon which politician was sitting at the Resolute Desk than upon forces outside of our control. As we hurtle toward the third year of the outbreak — and as it becomes clear that the matter is not up to the head of the federal executive branch, whomever he might be — one might reasonably ask, “How’s that working out for us?”

Across a remarkable range of issues, the superstition that the president is a talisman now reigns unchecked. Aware that there is something a touch off about the conceit, we tend to euphemize the idea a little. In order to avoid sounding strange, political journalists like to refer to the president’s “stewardship” instead of to his “beneficence.” But the implication is the same, nevertheless: that what is good and bad abroad the land is the direct product of the current president, and that there is nothing in America that a quick game of Brutus-in-the-Curia cannot fix.

Given the events of recent decades, one might have expected our would-be presidents to have begun to back away from l’état, c’est moi. And yet, if anything, the habit has grown steadily worse. It was, of course, rather unfair for the press to blame a once-in-a-generation pandemic on President Trump, who did indeed say a lot of awfully stupid things about the coronavirus last year, but who in practice had close to no control over the direction the saga took. But it was tough for anyone to make that case while Trump himself was playing stand-in-the-gap. At the podium last year, Trump told the country that, when it came to COVID-19, “the authority of the President of the United States . . . is total” — an absurd idea, yes, but one that, once stated out loud, made it a trifle difficult for him to pivot to “Who, me?” A year later, Joe Biden has almost exactly the same problem. It is, of course, not Biden’s fault that the Delta variant came along with a piece of lead piping while he was tying his shoelaces for the victory lap — but, then again, Biden did say that, unlike the last guy, with his “failed response,” he intended to “take responsibility” and send the dastardly thing packing. Live by the sword, die by the sword, and all that.

One has to wonder if, as he looks ahead to the coming winter, President Biden is beginning to regret playing the savior card. Before he became president, Biden said that he would “take on the threat of COVID-19,” “create millions of good-paying jobs,” “mobilize the talent, grit, and innovation of the American people,” “rebuild the middle class,” “revitalize communities,” and guarantee that “every American enjoys a fair return for their work and an equal chance to get ahead.” Naturally, none of these things were remotely within Biden’s grasp. Having suggested that they were, however, he took open ownership of them — and that, I’m afraid, works both ways. If this is the “Biden economy,” then that applies to the chaff as well as the wheat. If it is the president’s job to make sure the middle class is having a nice time, then it’s presumably his fault when gas is too expensive, when inflation is looming large, and when there’s a real risk that, come December, little Timmy’s parents will have their Christmas shopping trip spoiled by the sight of empty shelves. As with Trump, and many before him, it would have helped President Biden in the long run if he had said, “Look, I’m just one guy, here to do a narrow job, and there’s really not much I can do for you, all told.” He didn’t, though. And now he’s paying the price.

In the coming years, conservatives ought to do their level best to find and promote that rarest of birds: the politician who knows his place. Self-abnegation is rare in general, and it is almost extinct among our leadership class, but the monkeys-and-typewriters rule suggests that there must exist somewhere a figure who understands the limited role that the president is supposed to play, and who hopes to limit himself to doing it. It would be quite the tonic to hear such a person explain to the public that, as a general matter, the occupant of the White House does not control the economy or the culture or the fate of infectious disease, and that he should not try to, either. Until then, though, we’ll keep assuring ourselves that “the presence of a king engenders love amongst his subjects and his loyal friends,” and then wondering why, for some reason, it never quite seems to work out.