With political partisans flashing their swords and the art world brandishing shades of chagrin, Hunter Biden is once again back in the news, stirring controversy and cries of foul.
Having already accepted $83,000 a month for giving advice to a Ukrainian natural gas company with few credentials other than his last name (his dad warned, “I hope you know what you’re doing”), and allegedly generating $10 million for “introductions” from a Chinese billionaire seeking influence, and having a 10 percent stake in a China company with business potentially impacted by his then-vice president father, this time Hunter Biden — the artist — is commanding center stage.
Despite no previous knack or talent, Hunter’s hired an agent and is preparing to sell his art for upwards of $500,000 a piece to any investor. Half a million for an original Hunter!alf an original Hunter.
While this does not rise to the level of quid pro quo, a la “you buy my art and I’ll buy you access with the president,” it does create the kind of off-putting optics he’s generated before.
Yet to be fair, Hunter Biden has been honest about one thing: himself.
In countless interviews he has admitted to his problems with drug and alcohol addiction, to fighting chronic depression, to mistakes he made before, during and after his first marriage. You might not like his track record, but his openness and vulnerability are human traits worth valuing in a world of second chances.
Hunter Biden, like so many children of past presidents, is a poster child for what historian Michael Beschloss dubbed “the curse of the scion,” where children and relatives reject, or rebel against, the virtues of their famous family.
On this front, the historical trail of evidence is overwhelming and undeniable.
President John Adams’s son Charles, who had a fondness for heavy drinking and campus streaking, prompted his dad to tell his mom, Abigail, “My children give me more pain than all my enemies.”
Teddy Roosevelt’s daughter Alice, after marrying a political playboy (future House Speaker Nicholas Longworth) became a playgirl around town by birthing a daughter with a senator (clearly preferring to exchange political chambers for a new bed chamber). Her dad’s reaction? “I can be president of the United States, or I can control Alice. I cannot possibly do both.”
Of course, more recent stories have continued this streak of sensationalized scandal.
“Billy Beer” Carter, who secretly preferred Pabst to his own brand, lost his gas station (and, in part, his brother’s presidency) when he represented Libyan madman Gadhafi in what became known as “Billygate,” a planes-for-oil scheme that netted the president’s brother upwards of $2 million and a reputation for classless crudity.
Bill Clinton’s brother Roger, who went to prison on drug charges, was nicknamed “Headache” by the Secret Service for his continued debauchery, but he was arguably outdone by the president’s brother-in-law, Hugh Rodham, who allegedly collected (before reportedly returning) $400,000 for “selling” presidential pardons.
Neil Bush, who was a major part of the savings & loan collapse, was better known by others for allegedly prizing prostitutes and profits above all (and anyone) else.
Zachary Taylor’s daughter Sarah (who was married briefly to Jefferson Davis), Barack Obama’s half-brother Malik (who supported Trump over Hillary), and several Kennedys (plural) mired themselves in the fish bowl of scandal.
Yet there’s a bigger issue in all of this. Is it fair?
One of the first boxes any candidate for office checks is family — are they with me? Do they support me doing this? Do they understand the sacrifices required?
What’s left unspoken is the potential loss of reputation. And when family members fall off the wagon — an inevitable result of being human — the famous face a Faustian choice about the infamous: “Do I do what is right for those whom I’ve pledged to represent, or stand tall for my own family member regardless of transgression?”
This explains why so few Americans of estimable character and skill seek public office today: They know that frailties of family members will be used against them all in a blood sport in which winning is increasingly elevated above all else.
That also reveals why there’s a bloodthirst to take Hunter Biden down — because it provides a doorway to potentially taking down a president.
Like so many others, I continue to question things Hunter Biden has done, but selling a few paintings doesn’t risk national security as much as binge government spending, a failing infrastructure, or an intolerant society bent on cancelling each other out.
Given the personal pain the Biden family has endured — losing a wife and daughter, an amazing and military-decorated son, and almost another to the peril of addiction — it’s not hypocritical to conjoin criticism with a touch of compassion.
The president’s son describes his now full-time art career as getting to the truth, his own truth. I say: Let him find that, for his own salvation and, by extension, ours.
Adam Goodman is a national Republican media strategist and columnist. He is a partner at Ballard Partners in Washington, D.C. He is also the first Edward R. Murrow senior fellow at Tufts University’s Fletcher School. Follow him on Twitter @adamgoodman3