I Wish I Could Be a Part of President Biden's 'Brain Trust'
His campaign needs some out-of-the-box creativity to really shake things up.
The phone rings. It’s the president again. As much as I dislike talking on the phone, I pick it up and hear the president’s cheery but concerned voice on the other end.
“Hello, Mr. President. It’s great hearing from you on this Sunday. How are you, sir?” We chat briefly about how yesterday was the anniversary of the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union. 83 years ago. He says something else, but his voice fades away from the phone. I can barely hear him.
“Sorry, about that B, got a stack of papers here I am signing. You know how it is,” he laughs. I don’t because I have never been POTUS. I can’t imagine how much a good president works. We all know how much Trump worked (an hour a day tops), during which he was usually figuring out ways to use the government to enrich his company and increase his ratings.
Finally, after some pleasantries, the president gets to why he called.
“Listen, I was reading an article last night about how the restaurant business in Russia is booming. The places are filled, and everyone seems to be out drinking and carousing. Have they really managed to so adeptly maneuver their way through the sanctions? How do they do it?”
Without the so-called expertise of the “great minds” of the State Department and an assortment of Ivy League experts, I explain to the president how Russians think; I tell him how talented they are at finding loopholes and, after wallowing in collective misery, finding ways to manipulate and overcome. When a nation of people is beaten down and unfairly punished by its government, the national DNA becomes peppered with skills and thought processes that others don’t have. Russia thrives in “shit, Mr. President,” and then rises not like a phoenix from the flames but as a survivor most adept at conniving and stealing.
“So, we are now in the stage where the more we punish them, the better life will get for many, thus increasing support for that monster, Putin.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Hmmm, that is not what my ‘brain trust’ tells me.”
Multiple times each day, President Biden dials up Mike Donilon, a close adviser since the 1980s, to chew on the latest polls and headlines.
“What’s your instinct? What do you think?” Mr. Biden will ask Mr. Donilon, who recently left the White House for the campaign’s Delaware headquarters.
Once a week, Mr. Biden summons Ron Klain, his former chief of staff, to workshop the best attacks to use against former President Donald J. Trump as the presidential debate draws closer.
Interviews with dozens of people close to the president reveal a truth at the heart of Mr. Biden’s political life: While he is surrounded by a diverse and multigenerational crowd of campaign operatives, policy experts and cabinet secretaries, he reserves his full trust for a small circle of insiders who are the definition of old school (Core of Biden’s Brain Trust).
The youngest of the brain trust is Ron Klain at 62. The other two members are Mike Donilon (65) and Ted Kaufman (85).
Joe Biden differs so much from Trump, and not just for all the reasons we know. He is actually open to listening to others and does not consider himself the smartest person in every room. Whereas it seems Hillary Clinton started listening to too many people and lost the voice of the instinct that made the Clintons such a force in the 1990s, Biden’s reliance on his three trust advisors is potentially good — and potentially harmful.
But at least he has my number now, and our regular but unplanned calls might help him change things concerning policy on how to contain Russia. Time will tell.
“Well, Mr. President, I am not sure what your ‘brain trust’ is saying, but this is my read on the matter. I did live there for 30 years.”
“Thanks, B; I will give this some thought, and thanks for shining some light on this very confusing country. Regards to your wife, and hug that little boy for me. Have a great Sunday.”
“You too, Mr. President, and regards to Mrs. Biden.”
I put the receiver back on the phone near the couch. I am so glad we installed the landline last year, without which I fear the president might not have started calling me.