What time is it? A bit like the emperor Domitian, Joe Biden seems confused about the time. Warned by an omen that his death would come at midday, Domitian daily pestered people around him with that question, relaxing only after the dreaded hour had passed.
Alas, his caution availed him not. One day in September 96 AD, a treacherous servant lied to Domitian about the time, inducing him to let down his guard. A knife-wielding steward did the rest.
I am not sure that President Biden is still possessed of a guard he can drop. But if his recent performance in Hanoi is any indication, he does seem to be confused about the time of day. “Good evening, everyone. It is evening, isn’t it? This around the world in five days is interesting. Well, one of my staff members said, ‘Remember the famous song, Good Morning, Vietnam?’ Well, good evening, Vietnam.”
It was a feeble effort to make a joke, emphasis on “feeble.” The president’s increasingly wary aides took the hint. They had been holding their collective breath as he rambled on. “Lying dog-faced pony solider,” “John Wayne,” “my brother,” “climate change,” “worse than nuclear war.”
“We talked about stability,” Biden slurred, “we talked about the Third World, excuse me, the Third World, the uh, uh the Southern Hemisphere has access to change…”
This wasn’t going well. You can’t talk about “the Third World” in polite company anymore. Suddenly, Biden’s mic was cut and the dulcet tones of his press secretary Karine Jean-Pierre intervened: “Thank you everybody. This ends the press conference. Thanks everyone.” Unaware of what happened, Biden maundered on for a few seconds. Then, like Nietzsche’s Last Man, he gazed vacantly about him and blinked. Then he shuffled slowly off stage and disappeared behind the drapery.
The leader of the free world, ladies and gentlemen! A few days earlier in New Delhi, Biden stumbled over the name of Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman: “Mohamet bin Slam, excuse me, Mohammad bin ’Slam.” Cringe.
It has long been obvious that Joe Biden is really only “Joe Biden,” an empty, crepuscular pantomime, frail, querulous, gibbering. His performance on the world stage these last few days reinforces the sense that the United States has entered a penultimate, even a posthumous state. Certain rituals are still performed, but the gestures are tired, empty, rote.
Back in the 1940s, Cyril Connolly warned that it was “closing time in the gardens of the West.” He was premature. But the embarrassing spectacle of Joe Biden at the G20 meetings suggests that the appropriate response is not interrogative but imperative, not “What time is it?” but “Turn out the lights.”
