Have we ever lived in a time when not just the information, but the policy and political overload, has been like this on… A daily basis? Between the time yesterday when I decided to write about Swalwell and this evening, when I actually started writing this post, Trump had announced a blockade of the blockade in the Strait of Hormuz and then committed heresy by posting about himself as Jesus and actually trying to take Pope Leo on head on. Man a mano. Cage match. The mind reels.
Back to Swalwell. First, let me state that I have no dog in this hunt from a political perspective. While Swalwell would not have been my first choice for California governor, if it came down to a Democrat versus Republican, I would have voted for him in the general if he had qualified. But I don’t vote in California so none of that really matters.
Next, based on the accusations of several women and Swalwell‘s own statements, he needs to go. Suspending his campaign was just a start. And if he did anything illegal, we should investigate and pursue.
Of course, if people actually pay attention, this is another instance where they could readily see that the two parties are not the same. Simply put, Democrats will hold anyone to account, including “their own”; Republicans – at least politically and publicly – pretty clearly put power over any type of moral/ethical values if the behavior of one of “their own” jeopardizes their collective political standing. This obviously starts with Trump, but moves on down the line through Congress, the states, and all the way to local races.
But to me, there’s a larger lesson to be learned here. In order to illustrate that lesson, let me tell you a story:
How John Edwards Almost Destroys my Campaign…
We’d all like to think that political campaigns and offices of elected officials are run by experienced people who have accumulated all sorts of wisdom over the years.
Dream on.
One of the secrets of politics in our country – at least politics at the national level – is that it is largely run by a bunch of twenty-somethings. Washington, DC – and political campaigns and offices around the country – are staffed by eager beaver youngsters.
The reason behind this little secret of politics is based on a confluence of factors. To begin with, politics doesn’t pay very well. Even senior aides and campaign managers don’t earn a heck of a lot of money – certainly not what an experienced person could likely earn in the marketplace. Next, politics – especially campaign politics – is not conducive to a stable lifestyle. It involves long and irregular hours, lots of travel and geographic instability, and a willingness to be available whenever needed for whatever purpose. Generally speaking, these are not attributes that appeal to the vast majority of the people in the workforce as they get older and yearn for a more stable and established life. Finally, campaign workers and office staffers tend to be idealistic “true believers” – they truly and deeply believe in the cause(s) and candidates for which and whom they are working – whether it’s liberal or conservative. And for those of us who have survived past our twenties and even early thirties into semi-mature adulthood, we know that it’s easy to lose that youthful idealism. Amirite? Sadly, you bet I am.
So, except for my first campaign manager, a n experienced godsend for my political education, and my under-the-radar strategic advisor beyond compare, my campaigns staff was composed of young true believers. All of them fighting the good fight for the betterment of the Republic. All of them believing in the core of their being that I was THE candidate who could – would – make a difference.
And then, in 2008, a Golden Boy, former Senator John Edwards of North Carolina, nearly crushed my team – and my campaign – in one fell swoop.
in August, 2008, I was well into my 2nd campaign for CongresS, my field director in 200 had become my campaign manager, and he had recruited several people he had previously worked with to be on my team: The connection? They were all young Edwards supporters and had worked for Edwards in Iowa and other venues early on.
And they believed. They believed in John Edwards. Who he was. What he was saying. The change he would bring. They were young and idealistic and willing to forego any semblance of a normal life to work for peanuts to elect someone in whom they had placed their total and unconditional trust and belief.
Then it all came crashing down.
Not long after Edwards's on-air confession with my friend Bob Woodruff, I walked into our campaign headquarters after a long day knocking on doors. The staff was all there, and they seemed visibly upset about something. I asked my campaign manager what was up. He hesitated, then told me they would all like to talk to me together.
Hmmmm. I wasn’t sure what was going on. Was this a mass resignation. ? Had I done something wrong? Had they done something wrong?
I knew it was serious when one of my staffers went and locked the front door. They wanted no interruptions. I started getting nervous. What the hell was going on?
We all sat down in a back office. my campaign manager opened the conversation and quickly got to the point. He told me point blank that they had all placed their trust and faith in John Edwards, and they were devastated by his indiscretions and – perhaps more importantly – his lies. They believed, and he had crushed their dreams.
Then my campaign manager looked me in the eye and asked the questions that clearly were on all their minds, “How do we know that you aren’t going to do the same thing to us? How do we know that you haven’t already done something that’s going to come out and do to us what Edwards did?”
Whew. After a long hard day on the campaign trail, I wasn’t expecting this curve ball.
I let the questions hang in the air, trying to decide how best to answer. They wanted reassurance, but I realized that no matter what I said, I couldn’t prove I was clean. How does one prove that one hasn’t done something, especially when that something could prove to be scandalous? They might always be waiting for the shoe to drop. I decided that just issuing a blanket denial that I had not done anything wrong or telling them I was not John Edwards wasn’t enough.
As I spoke, I made sure to look each one of them in the eye. “Gang, I’m not sure how to answer your questions. I can tell you that there really aren’t any skeletons in my closet, which is true except for my youthful support of the Grateful Dead and all that comes with that, but I don’t think that’s going to satisfy you right now.”
My attempt at Grateful Dead humor had clearly failed miserably. I took another deep breath. “Look, I can never prove to you that I’m clean, and from the look in all your faces right now, you wouldn’t believe me anyway. I can only tell you from my heart why I’m here, and what I’m trying to do. One of those things I’m trying to show people is that they can elect leaders who won’t disappoint them – personally or professionally. I know you know that. We’ve already spent months working together in the most intimate circumstances, sharing long car rides, long days and nights, and incredibly stressful situations. You know me. You know my family. No one’s perfect – I’m far from it. I never thought I’d have to say this to you, but I’ll repeat to you what you’ve heard me tell others on the trail time and time again – I’m an open book. Ask me anything, and you’ll get an honest answer. Straight up. From the heart. I’m not John Edwards. I know he hurt you. Again, I can’t prove I’m clean, but I’ll make one promise. I won’t hurt you like he did.”
“How do we know that?”
“You don’t. I know you’ve been burned. But without trust, we can’t get anywhere together. I trust all of you. I’m not around here much, but I know you all are giving it everything you’ve got and I trust that you’ll do the right thing. I guess you’ll have to trust me. And I’ll say it one more time. I won’t hurt you.
That seemed to calm them down a bit. No one asked me if I had ever had an affair (easy answer: NO). We chatted for a while longer about all sorts of little things. I filled them in on some of my youthful doings, letting them know at one time I was just like them. I had pushed the limits and stepped over the line every once in a while, but I had never betrayed anyone. The night wore on, and all of us finally realized we were bone tired.
Without fanfare, we all got up, turned off the lights, unlocked, exited, then locked the front door behind us, and trudged back to our respective beds to catch whatever rest we could before another grueling day.
I had my 15 minutes of fame access (actually more like 5 years total during my campaigns). I was a featured candidate by the Democratic party in a couple of my races. I saw the dynamics in the political bubble that is DC. There are many in DC working to make a difference yet there’s a general truism about our federal electeds (note: this is a broad generality and does not apply to every single member of Congress or Senator so don’t come at me with some specific exception to the rule - I get it.)
They’re human and fallible. Perhaps vulnerable to being more personally fallible than many of us. The ingredients are all there.
As I’ve mentioned before, people treat our federal electeds (and candidates) differently than they treat you and I. They tend to get awestruck and treat people with power as “higher” and even “better” (just look at this video of the reactions to Mamdani walking through NYC last week on the 6-mile walk from City Hall to Gracie Mansion (impressive political theater, btw).
One has to have ego to run for federal office. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. But ego can easily get massaged and grow to the point it becomes bigger than the person and the job.
Some people are blinded by power. Some people want to get close to power. Some people are attracted - intellectually or emotionally or even physically - to power.
After experiencing only a small glimpse into the world within the DC beltway, I saw the pressure and offers and temptation and opportunities elected officials in DC are subject to on a regular basis. It’s actually surprising that more electeds are not involved in personal scandals.
Sometimes we forget that all politicians are real people. They have their personal lives, make mistakes, and have faults. But I really don’t think that most politicians and elected officials understand what they represent to their constituents. And how corrosive it is when they break the trust and hope that people have placed in them. It’s more than getting elected. Most people are looking for leadership – for people to step up where they can’t (or won’t) - to run things and make sure they- voters and citizens – have a chance at a decent life. An extramarital affair, or financial impropriety, or using a position of power or privilege for self-enrichment, is likely a deal-breaker in and of itself. But often it’s the lies and deceit attached to one of those situations that breaks the bonds necessary for a democracy to function appropriately. Lies and deceit that can corrode institutions, civic discourse, and ultimately if not brought under control, our culture itself.
That discussion with my team years ago was an eye-opener. It taught me a lesson that I’ll never forget. We can and should respect our electeds until they show they don’t deserve it. We can even like and sometimes revere specific elected individuals. But we should always - ALWAYS - hold power to account. I can’t believe I’m going to quote one of the people I hold most responsible for the trouble we are in today as a country - Ronald Reagan - but in the case of our elected officials, we need to “trust but verify”. And there’s nothing wrong with a dose of healthy skepticism when someone seems to get too big for their britches.
