Shaped by tragedy, Biden eyes calm after Trump storm

WASHINGTON • He has channelled personal tragedy into a heart-on-his-sleeve compassion for everyday Americans, but President-elect Joe Biden faces the challenge of a lifetime as he inherits a nation both traumatised and spellbound by his White House predecessor.

Mr Biden's victory - projected by TV networks yesterday in a cliffhanger election with the United States in crisis - turns the page on Mr Donald Trump's most divisive of presidencies, and rewards his appeal to the better angels of a deeply riven country.

Mr Biden ran for the White House twice before, in 1987 and 2008.

A loss to the deeply polarising Mr Trump - Mr Biden said in the election's final stretch - would mean he had been a "lousy" candidate, lowering the curtain on a prolific but ultimately unfulfilled political career.

But "Middle Class Joe" had made it his life's crowning mission to unseat the Republican and, in his words, restore the "soul" of America. And despite a campaign muted beyond recognition by Covid-19 - conducted largely from home while his high-octane rival charged around the country - Mr Biden ultimately showed Mr Trump the door.

When he takes the oath of office on Jan 20, at age 78, Mr Biden will be the oldest US head of state ever inaugurated.

He hit the national stage at just 29, with a surprise US Senate win in Delaware in 1972.

One month later, tragedy struck: His wife Neilia and their one-year-old daughter Naomi were killed in a car crash as they were out Christmas shopping.

Mr Biden's two sons were severely injured but survived, only for the eldest, Beau, to succumb to cancer four decades later, in 2015.

Throughout his life, Mr Biden has spoken poignantly of his personal encounters with tragedy, seen as having nourished a capacity for genuine empathy - something Mr Trump failed to demonstrate even as the toll from Covid-19 climbed towards a quarter-million.

His retail politicking skills are peerless: He can flash his million-watt smile at college students, commiserate with unemployed Rust Belt machinists, or deliver a fiery admonishment of rivals.

That personable, gregarious quality was curtailed by the pandemic, which brought in-person campaigning to a halt in March and prompted a more cautious Biden on the trail.

The President-elect was anything but assured of becoming his party's flag bearer. Despite being the favourite of the Democratic establishment, he was deemed by some to be too old or too centrist.

His campaign looked headed for disaster after disappointing primary losses to the fiery Bernie Sanders early this year.

But Mr Biden came roaring back in South Carolina's primary on the strength of overwhelming backing from African-American voters, a crucial base of Democratic support.

Clinching the nomination marked a sharp contrast to his 1988 flameout, when he quit in disgrace after being caught plagiarising a speech by British politician Neil Kinnock.

In 2008, he hardly fared better, dropping out after mustering less than 1 per cent of the vote in Iowa's caucuses. That year, he was ultimately picked as running mate by Mr Barack Obama, who dubbed him "America's happy warrior".

Nearly every Sunday Mr Biden prays at St Joseph on the Brandywine, a Catholic church in his affluent Wilmington neighbourhood.

There in the cemetery rest his parents, his first wife and daughter - and his son Beau, under a tombstone decorated with small American flags.

In January, Mr Biden confided about Beau and his undeniable influence: "Every morning I get up... and I think to myself, 'Is he proud of me?' "

AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE