5 Tough Questions Joe Biden's Campaign Will Have to Answer

In the lead-up to 2020, GQ will be examining the front-runners vying for the Democratic presidential nomination. Next up: the party's elder statesman, a longtime senator and former vice president who is taking one more shot at the Oval Office.
Joe Biden speaking into a microphone in front of an American Flag
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After two years of speculation about which of them is best suited to bring the Trump era to a merciful end in 2020, Democratic politicians who have been spending their free time forming exploratory committees, soliciting donations, giving inspiring speeches, and hanging out in Iowa diners are at last announcing formal bids to become the next president of the United States. Over the next few weeks, we'll take a look at each of the front-runners: Who are they? What do they stand for? And in order to have a shot at winning the nomination they seek, what tough questions will they have to answer first?

Previously, we looked at Kamala Harris, Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and Cory Booker. Next up: former vice president Joe Biden.


1. Has the moment passed?

No politician alive has been linked more often to the Democratic nomination without ever actually receiving the Democratic nomination than Joe Biden. There was 1988, when his candidacy was unraveled by the sort of embarrassing plagiarism admission that qualified as “scandalous” once upon a time. There was 2008, when he withdrew after placing fifth in the Iowa caucuses, only to score the next-best job shortly thereafter. And there was 2016, when Biden agonized for months over whether to mount a third White House bid before deciding against it. (After the election, he admitted to regretting this choice “every day.”)

Biden, in other words, has had ample opportunities to run for president, and 2020 might be the worst of them all—even though polls have him currently leading the pack. If he wins, he would be 78 on Inauguration Day 2020, which would make him 82 when he seeks re-election. As is the case with Hypothetical President Sanders, it's fair to ask whether Democrats should spend four or eight more years under the guidance of an octogenarian white guy, or turn to some of their promising young talent to lead the party instead.

A lot of this is just bad timing; to characterize as a “understandable” his reason for sitting out 2016—the death of his son, Beau, who lost a battle with brain cancer in May 2015 at age 46—would be a wild understatement. Strictly from a political perspective, though, that primary could have badly used a presence like his, if for no other reason than to push the race’s other two participants to be better candidates than they were. Trump benefited tremendously from the bitter, one-on-one war of attrition that ensued between Sanders and Clinton, and Biden knows it.

The former vice president is still very popular, but at this point in his career, this might be true for the same reason Chuck E. Cheese is popular: because people have fond memories associated with it, not because they want to go there for dinner tonight.

2. Does he have too much history?

Because Biden, more so than any of the candidates who possess records that require explaining, has a ton of problematic history to reckon with. As a senator, he voted for the notorious Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994, which had a disparate and disastrous impact on communities of color that policymakers still struggle to address today. He voted for the Iraq War, which remains such a humiliating stain on this country’s reputation that two decades later, politicians on both sides of the aisle still race one another to disavow it.

The confirmation of Republican Supreme Court justice Brett Kavanaugh brought renewed attention to another shameful episode in which Biden was prominently involved: the 1991 confirmation of Clarence Thomas, who was accused of sexual harassment by a former colleague, Anita Hill. Many Democrats have not forgiven Biden, then the chair of the Senate Judiciary Committee, for his mismanagement of the proceedings, which included which included his failure to allow other accusers to testify—and, later, his decision to advance Thomas’ nomination to the Senate floor even after the committee deadlocked.

Biden knows these things all present hurdles for his candidacy. He has already obliquely expressed regret for his support for the crime bill, and suggested that he owes Hill an apology, too, although he’s never offered one in public. The issue is whether Biden can atone for these sins in ways that demonstrate real growth and evolution—or whether doing so only when his political future depends on it comes across as too opportunistic to take seriously.

3. When the other party has no interest in civility, would having a champion of civility in the White House matter?

During his 45-year career in Washington, Biden developed an unmatched reputation as a consensus-builder, adept at courting the support of Republicans to push compromises across the finish line. The modern GOP, however—the one led by Donald Trump—is basically an extremist organization with a legacy brand name, helmed by zero-sum ideologues who would rather hold open a vacant Supreme Court seat for a year than allow a Democratic president to fill it. Nearly a decade after making obstructionism his party’s defining quality, it is hard to see why Mitch McConnell would be more eager to embrace bipartisanship under President Biden than under, say, President Warren or President Harris or anyone else with a (D) after their name.

Biden’s soft spot for the chummier days of yore has prompted him to make some curious choices of late. Weeks before the 2018 midterms, he gave a paid speech in Michigan in which he skewered some of President Trump’s more inflammatory rhetoric—and lavished praise on Fred Upton, the Republican congressional incumbent who went on to win re-election by fewer than five points.

Upton is a moderate-ish guy with whom Biden worked closely on cancer research funding after Beau’s death; he also backed the failed Obamacare repeal efforts, and voted to pass the 2017 tax reform bill. And when some Democrats vocalized disappointment at his choice to shill for a vulnerable GOP politician, Biden rolled his eyes and told them to grow up.

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This is an unfair oversimplification. It is one thing to maintain working relationships with Republicans; it is another to prioritize that task at the expense of advancing your own party’s interests. To be a viable candidate, Biden must show he understands the reality that his formidable political skills might not be as useful they once were in the Oval Office—and reassure Democratic primary voters that when he encounters the inevitable GOP recalcitrance, he won’t make a bad deal for the sake of making a deal.

4. What does “electability” even mean anymore?

Early polling indicates that for a narrow majority of Democrats, it is more important to find a candidate who can win the general election than it is to find one who aligns with all their values. Once again, it is the age-old “electability” debate, and since pundits primarily bring it up when expressing pessimism about the candidacies of women and people of color, Biden might be in luck. Even if voters would prefer a more progressive nominee, the argument goes, he’s an older white guy who enjoys great name recognition and boasts a sparkling résumé. Better him than Trump, right?

This inclination, of course, might be as misguided as it is closed-minded. Polls also show, for example, that by healthy margins, Americans favor increasing the minimum wage and boosting marginal tax rates on millionaires and billionaires. As my colleague Luke Darby notes, voters are worried about the unchecked effects of climate change regardless of partisan leanings; 70 percent of them want Medicare for All, and 80 percent have expressed support for a Green New Deal. If a candidate’s agenda gets voters in their corner, who cares what they look like, right?

Should Biden run, the extent to which the definition of “electability” is shifting might be the most important dynamic during the Democratic primaries. If the term refers to someone who looks a lot like all but one of the previous 45 presidents, Biden will get a head start. If it refers to someone who backs policies that a majority of Americans want, however, he’ll have to prove himself just like everyone else.

5. How will President Obama factor in to all of this (if at all)?

Save for Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, there might not be a more coveted endorsement in 2020 than that of the last Democratic chief executive, and you might think Biden’s relationship with his former running mate gives him the inside track on receiving it. This does not appear to be the case, though. In recent months, Obama has met with and advised at least nine prospective presidential hopefuls, says Politico, which has Biden “less than thrilled,” according to Vanity Fair. (A Biden spokesperson disputed this characterization.)

As he did in 2016, Obama wants to avoid picking a side early on, since doing so might deter otherwise-strong candidates from entering the race. But the history between the two men means that the longer Biden’s candidacy continues, the louder murmurs will grow about Obama withholding his approval from the man who was good enough to be his vice president—twice.

Further complicating matters is the fact that at some point, the Democratic primaries will require participants to frankly discuss some less-flattering aspects of Obama’s record: the administration’s use of drones, perhaps, or its handling of certain environmental issues. Even things the administration didn’t do, and which were perfectly reasonable at the time—say, its decision to pursue the Affordable Care Act’s incremental change instead of pushing for Medicare for All—might come up on the debate stage, when the many pro-M4A candidates who have not spent decades stumping for that idea explain why their stances shifted so dramatically.

This needn’t be an exercise in laying waste to Obama’s reputation. Ten years after he took office, it would be weird if the party didn’t make a real effort to examine its accomplishments and acknowledge its shortcomings. It is easier, however, for a then-mayor or then-professor or then-senator to do so than it would be for Biden, whose membership in the administration links him with an unambiguous position that will require defense or repudiation. His candidacy has the potential to invite a messy, public re-litigation of Obama’s legacy that no other candidacy really does—which, at a time when Democrats are hyper-vigilant about the dangers of 2016-style discord, wouldn’t be fun for anyone.


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