Joe Biden’s Happy Place

It is hardly fashionable to say positive things about Joe Biden these days. I myself have been among his doubters, convinced that he’d never be able to win a rematch against Donald Trump. I imagined myself on a flight bound for Reykjavík, Lisbon, Sydney, wherever on November 6, staring backwards out the window and squinting at the smoking ruins of American democracy, grimly praying that I wouldn’t turn into a pillar of salt.

But it’s undeniable that Biden gave a stunning speech last night, and it wasn’t just because there was a game on quality to his remarks, the thwapping sound of a gauntlet hitting the ground. It’s because he managed to do that thing he does best, which his aides long ago described to Richard Ben Cramer in What It Takes as “the connect.” Biden’s primary strength has never been formulating policy or grand ideas. It’s been his ability to read a room, to sweep in the energy that’s already there, and to make the most impersonal settings feel deeply intimate, like one-on-one discussions. And last night, in his State of the Union address—generally the dullest and most choreographed of presidential rituals—he did just that.

[David A. Graham: The most unusual State of the Union in living memory]

There was a call-and-response quality to the whole affair. In the after-chatter, the one spontaneous part of this ritual, Representative Gregory Meeks told Biden he was “a Baptist preacher tonight!” And Senator Raphael Warnock, an actual Baptist preacher, approvingly called it “a sermon.” During the address, Biden was also engaging with his hecklers (I’m looking at you, Marjorie Taylor Greene); razzing his legion of obstructionists (“If any of you don’t want that money in your district, let me know”); and cheerfully replying to boos. (“Oh no? You guys don’t want another $2 trillion–dollar tax cut for the super wealthy? That’s good to hear.”) He spoke in different registers, lowering his voice and talking far more casually and amusingly about a meeting with the leaders of a business roundtable a year and a half ago. (“They were mad that I—they were angry—well, they were discussing why I wanted to spend money on education.”) And I’m fairly confident that he was the first president delivering the State of the Union to mention potato chips.

As he was wrapping up, Biden directly addressed Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina, once (and maybe still) clearly his pal, because until Donald Trump came along, Graham was one of the most reliable bipartisan players in the Senate. “I know you don’t want to hear any more, Lindsey,” he said. “But I’ve got to say a few more things.”

This was a reminder that Biden remains, in some sense, a creature of the Senate, a place where once upon a time you spoke with those with whom you disagreed, because alliances across the aisle were necessary in order to pass legislation. Mitch McConnell and the more radicalized Trump caucus changed all that, believing obstruction was a better political strategy, and it wasn’t that hard to do, seeing as they didn’t much believe in government anyway. But Biden still has an element of LBJ in him, believing in persuasion—and sharing, to boot, his wariness and resentment of fancy-pants Ivy League elites.

I still flinch when Biden mixes up leaders and countries, though Trump does the same and knows one-thousandth of what Biden does and speaks with zero coherence. Trump’s followers will forgive anything; Biden’s won’t. And I still fear that Biden may not have the stamina to consistently deliver the sort of barn burner he gave last night on the campaign trail. That kind of energy is hard to sustain, even if you’ve got the freakish stamina that state and national politics requires, or what one of LBJ’s aides called “extra glands.”

[Read: Biden is still the Democrats’ best bet for November]

But last night, Biden proved that he’s not at all the frail, rapidly dementing Ichabod of GOP caricature, and in fact may be far better at this whole reelection thing than Democrats had suspected. He may make his naysayers in the mainstream press rethink the conventional wisdom for a while.

Biden still has, at the very least, a flair for retail politics. The best proof of that was how long he lingered once the speech was over—35 extra minutes—chitchatting with everyone in the chamber. The Secret Service kept urging him to leave; Speaker Mike Johnson tapped his watch, also signaling that it was time to go. But Biden remained, even as the lights were dimming all around him. At 81, he couldn’t resist the connect.