James Fallows is a veteran journalist who has covered national and international politics for decades.

In this post, he explains why Joe Biden’s farewell address surprised him. He expected the same tone and substance he had heard for years. But the last eight minutes were different.

He writes:

I turned on Joe Biden’s Oval Office speech last night mainly from a sense of duty. I’d followed this man’s discourse generally over the decades, and very closely through these past few years. So I might as well see him out.

(For instance, with this look at a State of the Union address two years ago; this about the “music” of Biden’s rhetoric — “like the joke about Wagner’s music, it’s better than it sounds”; this about his challenges as “explainer”; these two—first, and second—about his speeches on the future of democracy one year after the January 6 attacks; and this about his powerful speech at Morehouse College last year. I even proposed a draft speech Biden could give about choosing not to run again, several weeks before he made that announcement for real.)

A running theme in these speech-related items has been Biden’s preference to “deliver tough messages softly,” rather than in a combative tone like Harry Truman’s or Teddy Roosevelt’s. And that is what I expected last night.

Through the first half of the speech, I listened on cruise-control, thinking that I’d been right on how the speech would go. Then suddenly I realized I had been wrong. The final eight minutes of Joe Biden’s final presentation in public life were different from the thousands of hours of rhetoric by him through his career, in a dramatic and instructive way. 

A comparison with another old, departing president is inescapable, and clarifying.

January, 1961: Dwight Eisenhower on the ‘military-industrial complex.’

Dwight Eisenhower is known as the great Allied commander of D-Day, and as a hero who became the first Republican to win the White House since 1928. He was so popular that after incumbent president Harry Truman decided not to run again himself, he tried to persuade Eisenhower to run as a Democrat.

But in rhetoric Eisenhower is known only for two things. One is the speech he did not have to give, in 1944. That is the statement he would have issued if the D-Day landing had failed, in which he would have taken personal responsibility for what had gone wrong. (As he put it in his handwritten draft, “If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt, it is mine alone.”)

The other is the final speech he gave as president, his televised “Farewell Address” from the White House three days before he stepped down. The speech got only limited attention at the time. The incoming Kennedy team was young, exciting, a magnet for news. Eisenhower was old, tired, yesterday’s story. 

But as the years go on the Farewell Address has steadily grown in attention and importance. There’s a whole, thick book about the crafting and consequences of this one speech. (That is Unwarranted Influence, by the late James Ledbetter, back in 2011.) This was the speech that delivered the hard-edged warning about the growing anti-democratic influence of the “military-industrial complex,” and introduced that term to popular discourse. The warning was all the more powerful in coming from a revered five-star general. 

You can hear the original audio of Eisenhower delivering the speech in the embedded clip just below. The part that lives in history begins around time 7:30. The 100 seconds that follow are truly remarkable rhetoric, which repay very careful listening. This part is worth actually hearing for yourself.¹LISTEN NOW · 15:31

And here is the script from which Eisenhower read those words, as his final message as an office-holder. The underlines were for his planned cadence—pauses, emphases, multi-word phrases that should be read legato-style, as a smoothly connected whole. 

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January, 2025: Joe Biden, on the ‘tech-industrial complex.’

Nothing in Dwight Eisenhower’s previous rhetoric prepared the public for his farewell address. Nothing in Joe Biden’s pattern of speeches prepared me for the way he ended last night.

Through the first few minutes of Biden’s farewell presentation, I had a sense of the familiar. As expected, the speech took us through highlights of his administration’s achievements, especially on the economy, which (as I’ve frequently argued) will be judged much more favorably by history than they have been by the press or the 2024 electorate.²

And just as predictably, the speech would give us the story of Scranton Joe, and why his long journey has made him believe all the more deeply in the American Dream. That is where he seemed to be going with the elaborate curlicues of his Statue of Liberty analogy, which he pushed to the breaking point and which took nearly three minutes of the speech to spell out.³

Most of Biden’s recent speeches have ended with the assurance that he has “never felt more positive about America.” That’s what he still seemed to be saying when talking about the upcoming “peaceful and orderly transition of power.” A reference to this “peaceful transition” has been part of every farewell address I’ve ever looked at, and to every Inaugural Address⁴—even, grudgingly, the one given eight years ago

Indeed, because of his commitment to that process, Biden said, he “had no doubt that America is in a position to succeed.” But as soon as he had finished those words, about half way into the speech, everything changed.

‘I want to warn the country…’

He paused. He sat up straighter. Until then his body language and tone had seemed valedictory and going-through-the-motions. Suddenly he seemed urgent and engaged. His hands had been neatly folded. Now he gestured directly toward the camera with a pen in one hand. And he said these words:

In my farewell address tonight, I want to warn the country of some things that give me great concern. 

I said to Deb, “Eisenhower.” And our body language, as listeners, also changed. We leaned closer to the TV as Biden laid out his blunt indictment of “the dangerous concentration of power in the hands of a very few ultrawealthy people, and the dangerous consequences if their abuse of power is left unchecked.” 

What were these “concerns,” that troubled a president at the end of four years in the White House, and of half a century in public life? Biden dug right in, including using a word (oligarchy) I don’t think has appeared in presidential annals before.

Today, an oligarchy is taking shape in America of extreme wealth, power and influence that literally threatens our entire democracy, our basic rights and freedoms and a fair shot for everyone to get ahead. We see the consequences all across America. And we’ve seen it before.

Biden went on for a full three minutes in this vein, with comparisons to the worst of the robber barons of the Gilded Age. Only then did he make another historical connection explicit: 

You know, in his farewell address, President Eisenhower spoke of the dangers of the military-industrial complex.

He warned us about, and I quote, “The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power.” Six decades later, I’m equally concerned about the potential rise of a tech-industrial complex that could pose real dangers for our country as well.

He went on to detail, much more specifically than Eisenhower had, exactly why this new oligarchy imperiled democracy. He referred to technologies and challenges that didn’t exist in Eisenhower’s time—TV itself was relatively “new” in 1961—and expressed concerns are at the center of tech-savvy debate in 2025:

Americans are being buried under an avalanche of misinformation and disinformation enabling the abuse of power. The free press is crumbling. Editors are disappearing. Social media is giving up on fact-checking. The truth is smothered by lies told for power and for profit. We must hold the social platforms accountable to protect our children, our families and our very democracy from the abuse of power.

The was nothing quaint or old-timey—Bidenesque—about this. It was as direct an indictment of the corruption of money-power as we’ve heard from a serving president in our times. From FDR or Truman? Sure, but that was long ago. …

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