The Time Bomb of Oscar Benavides’ Rule

Joe Biden built his career as the defender of democracy, the bulwark against chaos and political cynicism. Now, he abandons us, leaving us at the mercy of Trump, Netanyahu, and an act that sets a precedent as dangerous as it is definitive: a presidential pardon for his own son.

Hunter Biden – and his name, “Hunter,” drips with a biting irony. He hunts not for justice or merit but for opportunities in the dense jungles of shady contracts and deals that never see the light of transparency. He feels like a character pulled straight from biting satire, the kind Marco Ferreri would feature in La Grande Bouffe, feasting privilege while the rest of us choke on the bitterness of reality.

It’s the perfect image for this moment. Hunter Biden’s story is as American as the dream: to be born near power, erect a wall of immunity, and leave the rest of the world powerless spectators. And we do just that – we watch. Resigned.

The presidential pardon is more than a political maneuver – it is a time bomb Biden plants beneath the feet of all who believed in his promises, myself included. For decades, he positioned himself as the man of the “sacred rule of law,” the moderate who would confront tyranny with firmness and decency. Yet here he is, reviving the bitter maxim attributed to Peruvian General Oscar Raimundo Benavides: “For my friends, everything; for my enemies, the law.”

Benavides, a military man who ruled Peru in two separate terms, uttered these words during his second presidency in the 1930s when he consolidated power with an iron fist. The phrase summarized his political strategy: benefits for loyal allies and repression for dissenters. In the short term, this approach propped up his rule. In the long term, it left a legacy of distrust and polarization that eroded Peru’s institutions for decades.

The phrase may not have centuries behind it, but its spirit is timeless. For us, Jews and Israelis, it feels all too familiar. For generations, we’ve lived under laws designed not to protect us but to subjugate us. From the courts of medieval Europe to the flames of the Inquisition to the cold corridors of modern bureaucracies, the law has often been the weapon of those who hold power.

And Biden? The man who spoke endlessly of equality, reconciliation, and restoring public trust now threatens to destroy everything he claimed to stand for. This pardon won’t just be a legal act but a symbolic marker, a clear sign that power no longer belongs to the people but to those who wield it. It’s a precedent we can no longer stop, and it will be used – by figures like Trump and Netanyahu, men who have already mastered the art of turning cracks in the system into open doors for their own gain. Biden is leaving behind a dangerous gift: validating favoritism as a governance norm.

For those who believed in democracy, the disappointment runs deep. Here in Israel, the feeling is all too familiar. We know what happens when leaders abandon the principle of universal justice. We live in a country where democracy walks a tightrope, swaying between idealism and cruel pragmatism.

Biden had the chance to be different. His personal story – marked by losses that would have crushed other men – could have made him more empathetic and more aware of the consequences of his actions. But perhaps the most significant flaw of politics is this: it doesn’t transform anyone. It simply reveals who they always were.

We live under broken promises and know that power is never neutral. It bends, it adapts, and it contorts to protect those who hold it. The case of Hunter Biden is not merely a family affair; it’s a mirror reflecting the fragility of the democratic ideal.

The real problem isn’t Biden saving his son. It’s the ripple effect on the world. How can we continue to believe in the promise of justice when the leaders who proclaim it fail to uphold it? Biden has abandoned us to Trump, Netanyahu, and a democracy that is losing its footing. When the law becomes selective, we all, sooner or later, become the enemy.