President Joe Biden's pardon for Hunter, his sole surviving son, was a symphony missing a crucial note: “I changed my mind.”
The pardon was a moment of paternal grace that took me back — not because of the act itself but rather what was left unsaid. Presidential history boasts far more contentious pardons: George HW Bush pardoned former Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger and five others for secretly selling arms to Iran during an embargo. Bill Clinton pardoned disgraced financier Marc Rich. Donald Trump pardoned political allies who might be called to testify against him.
The framers didn't envision the pardon as a family bailout, but recent precedents exist: Clinton pardoned his half-brother Roger and Trump pardoned Charles Kushner, his son-in-law's father, after they had served time. The real surprise was Biden, nearing the twilight of his political career and facing a brutal reframing of his legacy, missing a clear opportunity to tackle the inevitable scrutiny head-on.
“He answered it very clearly, very forthright,” White House press secretary Karine Jean-Pierre assured the media repeatedly, echoing President Biden's promise not to pardon Hunter. As Biden reversed this position, headlines readily seized upon the contradictions: “Six times Karine Jean-Pierre said President Biden wouldn't pardon his son Hunter,” Fox News sneered, adding that the White House Press Secretary “came away with egg on her face.” Just one of the New York Post's stories on it: “All the times Joe Biden and the White House said he wouldn't pardon Hunter.” Go at Vanity Fair: “Joe Biden's Pardon Is a Stunning Act of Hypocrisy.”
An explicit acknowledgment of his about-face might have altered the narrative, shifting focus from predictable critiques to a bold display of transparency. Instead, he echoed criticisms commonly leveled by Trump against the Justice Department during Biden's tenure — and revealed what he really thought about a case he had remained relatively silent about.
Presidents have historically revised stances, often conveyed with dignity, as Barack Obama exemplified when he transitioned from opposing to supporting same-sex marriage in 2012 — a position maintained through campaigning. “It's no secret the President has gone through some soul-searching on this issue,” noted the White House, revealing introspective dialogues with people who influenced his thinking: the First Lady; staff members; Sasha and Malia, who have friends whose parents are same-sex couples. “A few months ago, I told the Americans I did not trade arms for hostages,” Ronald Reagan said in a speech from the Oval Office during the Iran Contra Scandal, taking full responsibility. “My heart and my best intentions still tell me that's true, but the facts and the evidence tell me it's not.” These declarations were examples Biden might have emulated.
Biden could have avoided inadvertently endorsing Trump's critiques of the Justice Department by revealing what may have been the final straw: the eve prior, president-elect Trump announced plans for Kash Patel to lead the FBI amid rhetoric targeting both political and media circles. “We will go out and find the conspirators,” Patel proclaimed on Steve Bannon's podcast, intimating a sweeping agenda of retaliatory justice. “Whether it's criminally or civilly, we'll figure that out. But, yeah, we're putting you all on notice.” Biden could have reminded Americans that in a normal partisan environment, matters involving First Sons like Neil Bush, son of HW Bush, are often settled out of court. He could have noted a blanket pardon was necessary — even Richard Nixon's amnesty offered a shorter period — because in this charged environment, the so-called “Biden Crime family” appeared especially exposed, adding layered complexity to Biden's consequential move the very next day.
This context, apparently glaring to many on platforms like X and Bluesky, may not be so apparent to the broader public. As a presidential historian, this latest addition by Biden only adds to the cynicism I'm often subjected to.
Hunter's pardon doesn't define Biden's presidency, but it reshapes the story of the integrity he aspired to restore. Its complexities aren't obvious amid today's scrutiny, and given his delivery, may never be.
Alexis Coe is an American presidential historian, senior fellow at New America, and the author of, most recently, the New York Times best-selling You Never Forget Your First: A Biography of George Washington.
