Hunter Biden Blasts Joe—Slams Chaotic Afghan Exit, Dems' Border Priorities

Paul Riverbank, 12/24/2025Hunter Biden candidly critiques U.S. policies and politics—questioning both his father and party allegiance.

His anger wasn’t vague or performative. He zoomed in on what Americans remember: billions in U.S. military hardware abandoned, the Taliban grinning in victory, and the chaos at Kabul airport that ended in the deaths of thirteen service members. Sitting in that studio, Hunter spoke the uncomfortable truth politicians typically dodge. “There was a better way to do it,” he admitted—not shifting blame entirely to generals or advisers. “The buck stops with him,” he said, meaning his own father, Joe Biden. That’s not the son most presidents would hope for when it comes to tough questions, but it rings with a sort of brutal honesty.

If the conversation with Ryan stuck mainly to Afghanistan, it might have been just another headline-grabbing interview. Instead, Hunter’s frustration spilled into other topics, particularly immigration—where, unexpectedly, his words cut against the grain of his party. He stared into the camera and said, “We need vibrant immigration, but we don’t want immigrants… draining us of resources, being prioritized above people that are actual, literal heroes.” He meant veterans—echoing a drumbeat from both sides of the aisle about America’s struggling former soldiers.

Recent Pew data—10.5 million unauthorized immigrants in 2021, a jump to a record 14 million by 2023—give context to Hunter’s complaints. Ryan pressed for specifics, mentioning veterans sleeping rough while recent arrivals stayed in hotel rooms. Hunter didn’t waver; he agreed. “I do not want immigrants prioritized over U.S. troops.” For all the nuance in policy debates, sometimes the conversation boils down to moments like this—unscripted, touching on resentment that often goes unheard in polished Washington briefings.

Yet, the interview was not a simple exercise in government-bashing. When the Senate border deal came up, Hunter landed blows in unexpected places. According to him, the White House nearly had a compromise, until former President Donald Trump publicly threatened any Republican supporting it. “We’re addicted to the problem,” Hunter lamented, a nod to the endless gridlock and performative outrage that seem to fuel contemporary politics. Democrats, too, he acknowledged, helped tank the bill—frustrated it didn’t offer a path for longtime undocumented residents.

The hour grew late; the conversation twisted. Hunter, shaking his head, pointed to the immigrants who keep hotels running and restaurants humming—a reminder that, however vexed the policy, much of the American economy leans on these workers, papers or not. “Who do you think washes your dishes?” he challenged, tired.

Controversy is never far from Hunter Biden. When the infamous laptop cropped up—still the centerpiece for a thousand online arguments—he shrugged it off: “No laptop could have held all of that.” The internet responded as expected, suspecting deflection; still, trial records tell a more complicated story, including FBI confirmation of the device.

For all that, perhaps the most revealing moments were about money. Hunter described debt, a lack of “generational wealth,” an assertion that was met with rolled eyes and jabs from critics who point to years of extravagant spending and the record displayed on the same, disputed laptop. His recent venture as an artist sparked its own round of questions—if the paintings are selling, why the financial worry?

By the end, Hunter seemed caught in the same storm as millions of Americans: disillusionment. “I don’t even know if I’m a Democrat anymore,” he admitted, almost to himself. It’s a telling note from a man whose name has been used in just about every political fight in recent memory. From policy disasters abroad to domestic gridlock, from shifting alliances to public doubt, his candor may have surprised audiences. It certainly left a question hanging: If Hunter Biden, of all people, feels lost in the trenches of modern American politics, what hope do the rest of us have for clarity?

This, perhaps, is the thread that holds his long interview together—not perfect answers or partisanship, but the palpable struggle to make sense of a political moment that doesn’t seem to make much sense at all.

Hunter Biden did not mince words in a recent, marathon interview with podcast host Shawn Ryan. Watching him seated opposite Ryan, it wasn’t hard to see the emotional weight in his criticisms—even when they landed squarely at his father’s feet. Hunter, not merely a political son but someone wounded by the headlines himself, spoke of Afghanistan without the expected diplomatic filter. He called it, bluntly, “an obvious f—ing failure.”His anger wasn’t vague or performative. He zoomed in on what Americans remember: billions in U.S. military hardware abandoned, the Taliban grinning in victory, and the chaos at Kabul airport that ended in the deaths of thirteen service members. Sitting in that studio, Hunter spoke the uncomfortable truth politicians typically dodge. “There was a better way to do it,” he admitted—not shifting blame entirely to generals or advisers. “The buck stops with him,” he said, meaning his own father, Joe Biden. That’s not the son most presidents would hope for when it comes to tough questions, but it rings with a sort of brutal honesty.If the conversation with Ryan stuck mainly to Afghanistan, it might have been just another headline-grabbing interview. Instead, Hunter’s frustration spilled into other topics, particularly immigration—where, unexpectedly, his words cut against the grain of his party. He stared into the camera and said, “We need vibrant immigration, but we don’t want immigrants… draining us of resources, being prioritized above people that are actual, literal heroes.” He meant veterans—echoing a drumbeat from both sides of the aisle about America’s struggling former soldiers.Recent Pew data—10.5 million unauthorized immigrants in 2021, a jump to a record 14 million by 2023—give context to Hunter’s complaints. Ryan pressed for specifics, mentioning veterans sleeping rough while recent arrivals stayed in hotel rooms. Hunter didn’t waver; he agreed. “I do not want immigrants prioritized over U.S. troops.” For all the nuance in policy debates, sometimes the conversation boils down to moments like this—unscripted, touching on resentment that often goes unheard in polished Washington briefings.Yet, the interview was not a simple exercise in government-bashing. When the Senate border deal came up, Hunter landed blows in unexpected places. According to him, the White House nearly had a compromise, until former President Donald Trump publicly threatened any Republican supporting it. “We’re addicted to the problem,” Hunter lamented, a nod to the endless gridlock and performative outrage that seem to fuel contemporary politics. Democrats, too, he acknowledged, helped tank the bill—frustrated it didn’t offer a path for longtime undocumented residents.The hour grew late; the conversation twisted. Hunter, shaking his head, pointed to the immigrants who keep hotels running and restaurants humming—a reminder that, however vexed the policy, much of the American economy leans on these workers, papers or not. “Who do you think washes your dishes?” he challenged, tired.Controversy is never far from Hunter Biden. When the infamous laptop cropped up—still the centerpiece for a thousand online arguments—he shrugged it off: “No laptop could have held all of that.” The internet responded as expected, suspecting deflection; still, trial records tell a more complicated story, including FBI confirmation of the device.For all that, perhaps the most revealing moments were about money. Hunter described debt, a lack of “generational wealth,” an assertion that was met with rolled eyes and jabs from critics who point to years of extravagant spending and the record displayed on the same, disputed laptop. His recent venture as an artist sparked its own round of questions—if the paintings are selling, why the financial worry?By the end, Hunter seemed caught in the same storm as millions of Americans: disillusionment. “I don’t even know if I’m a Democrat anymore,” he admitted, almost to himself. It’s a telling note from a man whose name has been used in just about every political fight in recent memory. From policy disasters abroad to domestic gridlock, from shifting alliances to public doubt, his candor may have surprised audiences. It certainly left a question hanging: If Hunter Biden, of all people, feels lost in the trenches of modern American politics, what hope do the rest of us have for clarity?This, perhaps, is the thread that holds his long interview together—not perfect answers or partisanship, but the palpable struggle to make sense of a political moment that doesn’t seem to make much sense at all.