Between My Wife and Me

As you likely already know, the campaign for one of the leading candidates in California’s gubernatorial race, Democratic Congressman Eric Swalwell, imploded on Friday after the San Francisco Chronicle published a story revealing allegations apparently first made public by a well-known Instagram influencer—that Swalwell had sexually assaulted a former staffer. Not long after, CNN revealed additional accusations by other women, and by the end of the weekend, many of those who had previously supported Swalwell withdrew their endorsements, and the House Democratic Leadership called on him to end his run, which he did on Sunday night.

I don’t live in California and, frankly, with all the other news pummeling us everyday, haven’t been following the governor’s race there. From afar though, I’ve had what I’ll call a general appreciation for Swalwell. Without knowing anything about his policy positions or agreeing with all of his tactics, I did enjoy his moxie. There was finally a younger, more combative Democrat at House hearings trying to cut through the usual, Washington BS. And Trump apparently hated Swalwell (no doubt for his role in Trump’s second impeachment trial), which is always a stamp of honor in my book.

So much for honor.

I’m guessing a lot of people’s first thought on hearing the Swalwell story was the same as mine:

OMG!

And: NOT AGAIN!!

And: WHY?

As in: Why can’t these guys stop?

And why does their bad behavior always turn out to have been an “open secret” among people in the know? (It’s still mainly guys involved in these scandals, although I recognize that as more women have become politically prominent, some of them have probably joined the bad behavior bandwagon. Exhibit A: former head of the Department of Homeland Security Kristi Noem and her rumored affair with aide Corey Lewandowski.)

Long before what’s now been labelled the #MeToo era, many prominent politicians were brought down by their sexual “improprieties”: Eliot Spitzer, former governor of New York (2008); Anthony Weiner, former Congressman from New York (2011); Gary Hart, former Senator from Colorado and candidate for President (1988). And those are only the recent-ish examples I came up with in thirty seconds without doing any research.

The bad behavior is so common we’ve actually been forced to debate what level of sexual misconduct should be enough to end someone’s political career. Did Democrats overreact by forcing former Minnesota Senator/former SNL comic Al Franken to step down when images emerged of him pretending to grope a sleeping woman’s breasts (2017)? Did they under-react by standing behind Bill Clinton when he pretended a sexual relationship with an intern in her early 20s was entirely consensual and not a gross abuse of power—even when other women were accusing him of harassment (1998)? And don’t even get me started on Donald Trump, who’s thus far evaded any political ramifications from the videotaped evidence of his disregard for even the idea of consent, let alone the serious allegations related to his involvement with Jeffrey Epstein and his proven wrongdoing in the case of E. Jean Carroll.

True to what’s now become the PR playbook for so many of these guys, Swalwell issued a video statement late on Friday denying the most serious assault allegations, acknowledging some errors in “judgment,” and trying to use his wife as a shield:

“I do not suggest to you in any way that I am perfect or that I am a saint. I have certainly made mistakes in judgment in my past. But those mistakes are between me and my wife and to her I apologize deeply for putting her in this position.”

As if the phrase “between me and my wife” is some kind of magical cloak of invisibility that would allow him to hide the details of those “mistakes in judgment.”

As opposed to sexual assault.

Sorry, but no. Not this time. I’m tired of elected officials (let’s go unisex here) professing that their now public wrongdoing was just a mistake, a private family matter, irrelevant to their important duties. Implying that voters should—like their stoic spouse—forgive and forget. Mainly forget.

I don’t care that, as he pointed out, Swalwell has a long history as a public servant and prosecutor “who went to court for sexual assault victims.” How does that reduce the possibility that he himself committed a sexual assault? Lots of rapists in jail have wives and daughters.

For the record, I believe Swalwell’s accusers. Their allegations are disturbing, worse than some of the other examples I’ve cited. But I don’t have to know the absolute truth of every single claim made against Swalwell to know what a vague reference to prior mistakes means. And I don’t need or want to spend any more time parsing another politician’s sexual peccadillos; Bill Clinton’s “it depends on what the meaning of the word ‘is’ is” defense was enough for a lifetime. For me, the critical word in both of Swalwell’s statements was not “mistake” but “judgment.” Call me old-fashioned, but I think we should be able to vote for candidates because we can trust their judgment, their ability to make rational, informed decisions on our behalf. And while elected officials can’t and shouldn’t have to be perfect, they should have enough humanity not to physically hurt other people. And enough self-restraint and good sense not to make themselves an easy target for their opponents. Sadly, this weekend, we got another example of a promising politician who failed in both regards.

“Between my wife and me” isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card. A lesson I’m glad it only took a few days for Swalwell to learn.‍ ‍