Sen. John Fetterman’s mental health issues were the subject of a sensational New York magazine article last month, which caused many to wonder why. Beltway veterans, however, saw something that had slipped the public’s eye: Adam Jentleson, who had served as chief of staff to Fetterman, had publicly refuted the accusations that the Pennsylvania Democrat was a weakened, damaged individual who had stopped taking his prescriptions.
Take Jentleson’s choice to go public as you will; it was a surprising departure from the “staffer code” that has long dictated the behavior of underlings in Washington. Jentleson did not remain silent; rather, he provided a detailed account of his boss’s dangerous tendencies and volatile mood swings, as well as contemporaneous letters in which Fetterman expressed his concerns to the medical professionals caring for him.
At a time when top aides’ handling of President Joe Biden’s health and acuity has been the subject of several newsworthy articles, this breach of confidence may signal future developments on both sides of Pennsylvania Ave.
Up until this point, it was considered impolite to discuss the boss’ health, especially on Capitol Hill. When it comes to leaking information about parliamentarians’ private lives, the customary omerta is particularly powerful. Aides to former Senator Dianne Feinstein and former Representative Kay Granger remained quiet about their respective recent cognitive difficulties. at the second instance, the congresswoman’s residence at an assisted living home did not break the ice.
It is far more common for lower-level employees to speak anonymously, even in the executive branch where staffs are larger and more openly discussed. Reports tend to center on the leaders rather than their aides. In Washington, staffers’ future careers are always important, so this method of doing business is probably better for them. Call it pusillanimous if you like. Nobody wants to work with someone whose betrayal has been so exposed.
Former House Minority Whip John Lawrence once stated, “Your whole job as a chief of staff is, you’re there to protect.” Lawrence worked for Speaker Nancy Pelosi of California. Accepting and performing that type of staff function presumes that you will not utilize the closeness of your connection with your employer, which comes with a level of responsibility.
Are we seeing a shift in that now? Even while there haven’t been many instances of insiders following Jentleson’s example, it appears that the incentive structure for remaining silent has changed in the wake of Biden’s unfortunate choice to run again.
Take, for example, the pre-publication reviews of Original Sin, the most talked-about political book of the year, written by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson. The book alleges a cover-up around Biden’s cognitive impairment. The writers claim they do more than just make accusations against the ex-president, even if the book won’t be out until next week. Rather, they vow to spill the beans on a small group of Biden’s closest associates and supporters who helped keep his claimed illness hidden from the public.
A number of authors, including Chris Whipple, Jonathan Allen, and Amie Parnes, have already published scooplets on the same topic in their books; moreover, journalists Josh Dawsey, Tyler Pager, and Isaac Arnsdorf have more to come in a book that is upcoming. The sections on Biden’s health that appear in the reports all pose an important political question: when and what did the staff know? This is a poignant twist on an old subject.
It is safe to assume that those associates will face immense ridicule upon their identification, given the Democratic wrath over Donald Trump’s reelection. For example, in a passage from Tapper and Thompson’s book that was published in the New Yorker, the story goes like this: “a Mob boss” was used to describe longtime assistant Steve Ricchetti in an attempt to silence George Clooney’s first-person narrative of Biden’s decline. Staff members seldom hear that kind of thing, no matter how terribly their president messes up.
An very compelling incentive to come clean early on is the assignment of blame for a political disaster to aides who concealed information and their subsequent public pillorying.
So far, the Biden-coverup stories have mostly stuck to the same pattern of using anonymous sources, which is typical of the dishonest Beltway scoops. Someone in the White House is often labeled as a “senior aide,” “prominent Democratic strategist,” or anything like when discussing various specifics. The point is moot. Washington officials have long been responsible for keeping quiet about the boss’s mental and physical health, even though it has never been explicitly stated in their job description. However, with the Biden scandal hanging over their heads, the next round of insiders will certainly believe otherwise.
I believe this to be excellent news.
In this age of gerontocracy, the subject of how to deal with a public official’s level of presence has frequently baffled Washington. This seems to be a problem that all sorts of Beltway organizations’ professional norms are unable to resolve.
Consider the media as an example. Our guidelines for scandal reporting are based on observable facts: Having a duplicate of the fraudulent contract serves as proof of the unethical exchange of favors. The facts, however, will always be less clear when the subject involves mental degeneration. Humans are fallible; HIPPA regulations conceal evidence of good and bad days. Therefore, journalists who have no qualms about questioning the integrity of a politician may struggle to find the right words when confronted with an official’s apparent mental instability.
Anecdotes about Biden’s not-so-secret deterioration circulated around Washington for a few years, and there’s a general feeling that the press corps failed to cover him. In the end, we haven’t received a generally agreed-upon set of guidelines for moving forward.
Similarly, perhaps a new code of honor on the level of discretion that assistants should display is necessary. It’s fair to assume that they will keep quiet regarding sensitive matters such as legislative strategy, internal policy discussions, and negotiating nuances. It appears to be a separate category, however, when there is evidence of serious mental health difficulties or dementia. Whoever remained silent over Feinstein’s or Granger’s incapacity was being loyal to their legislator—and fairly shabbily negligent toward the people of Texas, California, and the USA.
The account of Jentleson denouncing Fetterman is certainly remarkable in many respects. Jentleson isn’t your average staffer; he’s the author of a highly acclaimed book on the Senate. Fetterman is less of a friendly-fire target than a politician who sticks to the party line since he is a Democrat who is unpopular with the left. Jentleson refused to respond when I contacted him regarding his reasoning for going public. He is less vulnerable to retaliation from the political elite since, unlike many of his former colleagues, he has not swung to another senator or set up shop on K Street.
Nonetheless, Jentleson’s statement is commendable. Also, I’m crossing my fingers that the Biden scandal has taught us all that it’s unacceptable to cover up stories like these. “There were a lot of individuals in his inner circle who were more concerned with him than with the bigger picture,” Thompson informed me this week. They mistook them for one another, they said.
At the very least, the growing Democratic indignation over the Biden predicament may influence Beltway careerists to reevaluate their most important calculation: how can I advance my career? Absolutely, no prospective employer wants to work for a complete dimwit. On the other hand, it’s not good to be accused of continuing a terrible staff cover-up.
