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Pete Buttigieg and the Parable of the Wine Cave Give Joe Biden His Due
(about 16 hours later)
Does the road to the White House run through a wine cave? Pete Buttigieg and Elizabeth Warren are the shiny objects.
That was the question that electrified the Democratic debate in Los Angeles on Thursday. It was specific, referring to the location of a recent fund-raiser that Pete Buttigieg had held in Napa Valley. Joe Biden just may be the keepsake that endures.
But it was also metaphoric, a stand-in for the wider argument among Democrats over pragmatism versus purity, compromise versus idealism, a candidate like Buttigieg or Joe Biden versus a candidate like Elizabeth Warren or Bernie Sanders. The other two went at it on Thursday night, quarreling over the meaning and morality of a wine cave, in an exchange that distilled the Democratic primary’s broader tension between pragmatism and purity, compromise and idealism. Biden was careful not to be drawn too far into it and, during other stretches of the debate, stood back.
As Warren blasted Buttigieg for kissing up to wealthy donors — and he portrayed her as an unpractical hypocrite — they weren’t really sparring over cabernet and cash. They were promoting separate strategies for winning the presidential election, different ways to position their party and vanquish Donald Trump. Why wouldn’t he? For all the worry because he sometimes stutters, for all the concern because he occasionally sputters, for all his corny locutions (“malarkey”) and reflexive conversation fillers (“here’s the deal”), the former vice president has almost consistently maintained a lead over his Democratic rivals in national polls since he announced his candidacy last April. He has recently gained ground in Iowa, the state that votes first, meaning that he may avoid what had been looking like a candidacy-imperiling embarrassment there.
It was the same conflict that has defined the Democratic primary from the start, but with extra fury. Passions often burn hotter when alcohol is involved. He has survived salvos from critics and messes of his own that were supposed to halt or at least hobble him: the attention to his crossing-the-line physicality with women; the flip-flop about public funding of abortions; the back-and-forth with Kamala Harris about busing; the moment at the fifth Democratic primary debate when he seemed to forget either that she was in the Senate or that she was black.
“Billionaires in wine caves should not pick the next president of the United States,” Warren said, exploding the relative politeness of the debate to that point. All of that supposedly made him look weak. But none of that appreciably weakened him.
Buttigieg was ready for this, noting that she’s actually a millionaire — several times over — and he’s not. “Senator, your net worth is 100 times mine,” he said. So if she donated the legal maximum of $2,800 to him, he asked, “Would that pollute my campaign because it came from a wealthy person? No. I would be glad to have that support. We need the support of everybody who is committed to helping us to defeat Donald Trump.” And at the latest debate, he performed better than before — which may not be saying a lot but is saying something. He still can’t speak in a straight line, instead zigging and zagging: If he were a car, his tires would constantly scrape the curb and his hubcaps would probably pop off.
“I do not sell access to my time,” she shot back. But they stayed on this time around. Biden, 77, seemed more relaxed and confident, and he radiated his trademark warmth. It’s difficult not to like him. And it’s time to give him his due.
“As of when, Senator?” he said, pointing out that she began her presidential bid with financial reserves from a Senate race in which she had indeed held the “big-ticket fund-raisers you now denounce. Did it corrupt you, Senator? Of course not.” So many of us haven’t, and I’m as guilty as anyone. In past columns I urged him not to run — citing his unsuccessful previous presidential bids, his age, his eccentricities and his outright flaws — and doubted his ability to go the distance. I joined other pundits and political analysts in treating Biden’s front-runner status as fictive or inevitably fleeting and as the bequest of simple name recognition.
They both had solid points. They both articulated them forcefully. In fact, they were both terrific, although less so during that exchange than during other stretches of the evening, as they made utterly clear why they are firmly ensconced, along with Biden and Sanders, in the top four. We decreed that other contenders — Harris for an instant, Warren and Buttigieg for longer, even Bernie Sanders of late — had momentum. Biden had vestigial good will, which we regarded as a less flashy and flimsier commodity.
That’s the hell of this primary: There’s talent galore. But with each talented candidate comes serious shortcomings, and there’s just no clear answer to which of them — including Amy Klobuchar, who had an excellent evening and grows more and more appealing — would be Trump’s fiercest adversary. When we examined Biden, we saw warning signs. Look at that light schedule! Check out those anemic fund-raising numbers! Sure, many Democratic voters deemed him the most electable alternative at a juncture when snatching back the White House mattered infinitely more to them than any romance with a figure fresher and more inspiring than he is. But would they stick? And could he last?
The president was a bigger presence at this sixth Democratic primary debate than at the previous five, and that was inevitable. Just 24 hours before it began, he became the third president in American history to be impeached, a reflection of just how unfit for office almost all Democrats rightly deem him to be. So far, so good — or, rather, so Biden, which in Thursday night’s debate meant a quizzical reference to Winston Churchill, some endearingly loose banter with Sanders and an overarching aura of sheer good-naturedness.
But impeaching him won’t get rid of him; for that, beating him in November 2020 is necessary. So the debate was all about which candidate would ensure that, as all seven of those who appeared onstage gave their pitches. When one of the moderators, Tim Alberta of Politico, brought up the subject of age, Biden said: “Look, I’m running because I’ve been around. All my experience. With experience, hopefully, comes judgment and a little bit of wisdom.”
Tom Steyer, a billionaire, noted that Trump would run on his economic record of low unemployment figures and a bullish stock market, so his opponent should be someone who could poke the right holes in that. Someone with irrefutable business acumen. Someone like, well, Tom Steyer. Alberta noted that if Biden won the presidency, he’d be 82 at the end of his first term. “Are you willing to commit tonight to running for a second term?”
Klobuchar, who represents Minnesota in the Senate, noted that the Midwest was crucial to Trump’s election, so his opponent should be someone with the proven ability to win votes there. Someone from the Midwest. Someone like, well, Amy Klobuchar. “No, I’m not willing to commit one way or another,” Biden said without pause, to supportive laughter from the audience. “Here’s the deal. I’m not even elected one term yet, and let’s see where we are. But it’s a nice thought.” It was a nice answer.
Biden, the former vice president, stressed the importance of a leader with the experience to begin effective repair work and restore America’s leadership in the world right away. He also emphasized the need to at least take a stab at bipartisanship and did so in a fashion more heartfelt and gripping than ever. Moderators gave him ample opportunity to stumble, challenging him, for example, on the Obama administration’s failure to close Guantánamo Bay and its exaggeration of progress in the war in Afghanistan. He had answers at the ready and exhibited zero discomfort.
“I refuse to accept the notion, as some on this stage do, that we can never, never get to a place where we have cooperation again,” he said. “If that’s the case, we are dead as a country. We need to be able to reach a consensus. And if anyone has reason to be angry with the Republicans and not want to cooperate, it’s me — the way they’ve attacked me, my son and my family.” While he was evasive about a few topics, he was emphatic about his disagreement with Sanders and Warren on “Medicare for all.” And he leapt into the fray to explain that he finds that plan exorbitant and far-fetched. “I’m the only guy that’s not interrupted,” he said. “All right, I’m going to interrupt now.” This from a man who, at a previous debate, cut himself off even before moderators did.
Buttigieg, the 37-year-old mayor of a small Indiana city, asserted anew that a fresh perspective from outside Washington was the answer. I maintain serious reservations about him. Thirty-six years in the Senate and eight in the vice presidency add up not just to enormous experience but also to a sprawling record that’s a gold mine for detractors. He undeniably lacks the vigor he once possessed.
This prompted the evening’s second most fiery exchange, between him and Klobuchar — who is in her third term in the Senate. And President Trump’s cynical airing of questions about his past dealings with Ukraine — and about the lucrative position that his son Hunter had on the board of the natural gas company Burisma — remains a potential liability for Biden, who still hasn’t found and delivered the perfect rebuttal.
“When we were in the last debate, Mayor, you basically mocked the hundred years of experience on the stage,” Klobuchar said to him. “And I have not denigrated your experience as a local official.” But journalists may not have the right antenna for how this is playing out. When Biden admonished a man in Iowa who credulously parroted Trump’s line of attack, many political analysts pronounced him imprudently thin-skinned and unattractively defensive. But many voters surely saw him as authentic, relatable — a loving father and decent person disgusted with the nastiness coming his way. There’s an upside to trading a safe, conventional political script for something rawer. Trump demonstrated that in 2016.
“You actually did,” he responded. “I was going to let it go, because we have bigger fish to fry here.” And on Thursday night, Biden reasserted the fundamental generosity of spirit that separates him from Trump and is like a tall, cold glass of water to Americans thirsty for decency. “I refuse to accept the notion, as some on this stage do, that we can never, never get to a place where we have cooperation again,” he said, making a pitch for bipartisanship. “If that’s the case, we are dead as a country. We need to be able to reach a consensus. And if anyone has reason to be angry with the Republicans and not want to cooperate, it’s me — the way they’ve attacked me, my son and my family.”
“Oh,” she said, “I don’t think we have bigger fish to fry than picking a president of the United States.” He got fresh reason during the debate, when Sarah Huckabee Sanders, the former White House press secretary, sent out a tweet that ridiculed his stutter. She deleted it — and apologized — after he asked her where her empathy had gone, a question I assumed was rhetorical. It died on the altar of Trump, where too many other Republicans sacrificed their principles, too.
They proceeded to joust over whether he’d won tough elections, with him bringing up his challenges as a gay man. It was riveting and raw and a sign of how close the Iowa caucuses are drawing, how nervous Democrats are about finding the path to the end of Trump, how urgent all of this feels. Biden glows in comparison. He almost looks shiny.
Warren leaned on “corruption” as hard as she’d leaned on “fight” during prior debates, insisting that corruption’s most ardent enemy would be Trump’s scariest foe. She also had the best line of the night, delivered when the candidates were being asked about recent remarks by President Barack Obama that took issue with how male, old or both many of the Democrats vying for the White House were.
“Senator Warren, you would be the oldest president ever inaugurated,” one of the moderators, Tim Alberta of Politico, said. She’s 70 now.
“I’d also be the youngest woman ever inaugurated,” Warren answered.
The second best line was Andrew Yang’s. Speaking up for more women in government, he said, “If you get too many men alone and leave us alone for a while, we kind of become morons.” But he added that the excessive importance of money in politics was a bar to female candidates, who aren’t poised “to go shake the money tree in the wine cave.”
His wit and Warren’s deftness were no surprise. Biden’s brio and confidence were.
He didn’t have the best debate of the night, because he can’t. Biden speaks not in straight lines but in wide swerves: If he were a car, his tires would constantly scrape the curb and his hubcaps would probably pop off.
But they stayed on this time, and he steered clear of danger, by which I mean the wine cave, acknowledging his own rich donors without investing himself in the kind of defense that Buttigieg was compelled to mount.
And in his zigging and zagging way, Biden recognized that what divides the race’s progressives from its moderates isn’t values but the candidates’ assessments of what can safely be promised and reasonably achieved.
I’ll drink to that. And in honor of “Joe Sixpack,” I’ll make it a beer.
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