Joe Biden: Mourner in Chief

For nearly 15 years, President Biden has leaned heavily on discussing family tragedy even when it has only the most tenuous, or even nonexistent, connection to the subject at hand. In 2007, for instance, during his second failed run at the presidency, Biden was asked a question about negative campaigning in Iowa and responded by talking about how his first wife, Neilia, and first daughter, Naomi, were killed in a pre-Christmas 1972 car crash. He also embellished the story in two ways: He claimed falsely that the driver of the truck in the accident “drank his lunch instead of eating his lunch.” That driver was not at fault; Neilia Biden, who was holding the baby while she drove, apparently ran a stop sign and drove into the truck’s path, and there was no indication he had been drinking.

Biden also cloaked himself in magnanimity by claiming “I never pursued it,” the antecedent of the pronoun being the supposed rumor that the driver had been drinking. Biden explained to a reporter then that the point of the story was proving he could understand other people’s problems: “Look, I was a single parent for five years, and I understand what it’s like. I don’t understand your situation, but I’m not devoid of an understanding of the problems ordinary people face.” Having suffered these two horrible losses, and the further devastation of burying his son Beau in 2015, is perhaps Biden’s single most humanizing quality. But is misfortune really a quality? Biden is, as Fintan O’Toole once put it, our designated mourner.

About the Author

Kyle Smith

Kyle Smith is the film critic for the Wall Street Journal.

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For nearly 15 years, President Biden has leaned heavily on discussing family tragedy even when it has only the most tenuous, or even nonexistent, connection to the subject at hand. In 2007, for instance, during his second failed run at the presidency, Biden was asked a question about negative campaigning in Iowa and responded by talking about how his first wife, Neilia, and first daughter, Naomi, were killed in a pre-Christmas 1972 car crash. He also embellished the story in two ways: He claimed falsely that the driver of the truck in the accident “drank his lunch instead of eating his lunch.” That driver was not at fault; Neilia Biden, who was holding the baby while she drove, apparently ran a stop sign and drove into the truck’s path, and there was no indication he had been drinking.

Biden also cloaked himself in magnanimity by claiming “I never pursued it,” the antecedent of the pronoun being the supposed rumor that the driver had been drinking. Biden explained to a reporter then that the point of the story was proving he could understand other people’s problems: “Look, I was a single parent for five years, and I understand what it’s like. I don’t understand your situation, but I’m not devoid of an understanding of the problems ordinary people face.” Having suffered these two horrible losses, and the further devastation of burying his son Beau in 2015, is perhaps Biden’s single most humanizing quality. But is misfortune really a quality? Biden is, as Fintan O’Toole once put it, our designated mourner.