by Susan Rice
I knew Chris Stevens. I worked closely with him and had the privilege of doing so as we tried together as a government to free the Libyan people from the tyranny of Qaddafi. He was a valued colleague, and his loss and that of his three colleagues is a massive tragedy for all of us who serve in the U.S. government and for all the American people. None of us will rest, none of us will be satisfied until we have the answers and the terrorists responsible for this attack are brought to justice.
Regarding McCain, I went on to say:
Let me be very clear. I have great respect for Senator McCain and his service to our country. I always have, and I always will. I do think that some of the statements he’s made about me have been unfounded, but I look forward to having the opportunity at the appropriate time to discuss all of this with him.
Shortly after I spoke publicly, the White House finally kicked into gear. With the president’s blessing, Deputy National Security Advisors Ben Rhodes and Denis McDonough led the charge. Their aim was both to have my back and test whether the most vocal Republican senators who opposed my potential nomination could be defused or neutralized such that their opposition, if enduring, would not be too prolonged or costly to the president’s second-term priorities.
To that end, the White House set up meetings for me with key senators in late November. They thought that it would be helpful to have Michael Morell, the acting CIA director, accompany me to the Hill, because the CIA had written the Benghazi talking points, which Morell had approved. He could validate that I was speaking only on the basis of what the IC knew at the time. Michael is a stand-up guy, and I appreciated his willingness to join me.
Over the course of two long days, we had several meetings. I met with Senator Joe Lieberman (an Independent who caucused with the Democrats), who was a close friend of McCain and Graham. Supportive and rational, Lieberman broke with McCain and Graham, telling Andrea Mitchell on MSNBC that he saw no reason to oppose my nomination or confirmation, adding “it seems to me that everything she said on those many appearances that Sunday morning were within the talking points that she had been given by the intelligence community.”
Michael Morell and I then met at length with Senators McCain, Graham, and Ayotte. This meeting was contentious from the outset. McCain came out swinging. Bullying and blustering, he refused to let me answer many of his questions. He grew furious when Michael, in his effort to be helpful, mistakenly commented that the FBI had edited out the term “Al Qaeda” from an early draft of the talking points. McCain suggested that Michael was lying; of course, he was not. Michael corrected himself just a few hours later, clarifying that it was CIA personnel, not FBI, who made those edits before the points reached him. But once McCain got started, it was hard to stop him.
What I didn’t fully appreciate at the time but have since come to believe, is that McCain was not interested just in punishing me for my words on Benghazi. There was likely more to it. Perhaps he also sought retribution for my closeness to the man who defeated him and for my own deprecating comments about him during the 2008 campaign. Graham piled on with his snarky, unctuous, and hyper-partisan outrage and later used Benghazi to fundraise and shore up his conservative credentials in expectation of a Tea Party primary challenger in 2014. Ayotte was the least aggressive but clearly opposed my potential candidacy.
As I said to the senators when we met, “I regret that the talking points provided to me by the Intelligence Community, and the initial assessment they were based on, were incorrect in one key respect: there were no protests or demonstrations in Benghazi. No one more than I wishes that we had had perfect information just days after the terrorist attack. But, as you know, it is often the case that the intelligence evolves. That’s what happened here. Neither I nor anyone else in the Administration intended to mislead the American people at any stage in this process.”
Despite acknowledging my error in our meeting, the senators’ dismissive response made plain that they never intended to give me a fair hearing (nor even hear me or Michael at all). After our meeting, they issued harsh statements claiming they were even more “troubled” and “concerned” about the information I conveyed on September 16 than they had been before. Graham also pronounced himself “very disappointed in our Intelligence Community. I think they failed in many ways.” The senators demanded much more information from the FBI and other agencies on what happened in Benghazi, as Graham said, “Before anybody can make an intelligent decision about promoting someone involved in Benghazi.”
Senator Bob Corker, who was the ranking Republican on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, met with me separately. He was more civil but equally dismissive of my prospective nomination, calling me a partisan flack who was better suited to serve as spokesperson for the Democratic National Committee. Publicly, Corker said, “I don’t think people around here want in the secretary of state’s office someone who’s a political operative.” Then, straining credulity, he added, “But, I’ll give her a fair hearing.” By contrast, in a private pull-aside with me after our formal meeting, he told me candidly: “Your problem is that you are just too good.” As he implied then and on later occasions, I was a smart, powerful communicator, whom admittedly he quite “likes.” In his view, I was too effective a spokesperson, one the Republicans had every interest in sidelining. It wasn’t personal, in his mind. It was politics.
The most disingenuous meeting I had was with Senator Susan Collins of Maine. Four years earlier, she had kindly introduced me at my confirmation hearing for U.N. ambassador, heralding my qualifications and my strong family ties to Maine. In the intervening years, I had failed to pursue a deeper relationship with her. Now in public after she met with me, Collins said, “Frankly, I found her to be very defensive and not very forthcoming. I walked out of the meeting with a profound sense of disappointment.” She also said, “I am concerned that Susan Rice’s credibility may have been damaged by the misinformation that was presented that day.”
The disappointment was mutual. Behind closed doors, Collins pressed me hard on why I went on the Sunday shows instead of Clinton, casting my decision as a self-serving audition for secretary of state. Despite my explanation to the contrary—that I agreed to do the shows, notwithstanding my long-planned Saturday travel with my kids, purely out of duty to the White House—she persisted in a nasty prosecutorial vein. She shocked me most by returning to the 1998 East Africa embassy bombings by Al Qaeda, suggesting that I was to blame for those attacks, despite the fact that the independent after-action report on the embassy bombings, which is required by law, found no fault with me. In the press, Collins tried to give lift to this latest smear, saying, “What troubles me so much is the Benghazi attack in many ways echoes the attacks on those embassies in 1998, when Susan Rice was head of the Africa region for our State Department. In both cases, the ambassadors begged for additional security.” This attack was the lowest blow.
When the meetings were over, Collins made plain she remained unmoved. McCain and Graham sustained their offensive against me and expanded it unfairly to encompass Michael Morell. I had made no progress on the Hill and arguably suffered another public setback, as it became clear that most of these senators were resolved (no matter what I said) to deny Obama (seemingly out of vengeance for his reelection) the person they perceived to be his first choice for secretary of state.
The public battle over my non-nomination continued to mount into early December, but McCain and Graham stepped back a bit, content to let others take up the cudgels. McCain signaled his readiness to continue fighting, however, by announcing his intent to join the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, which would be responsible for screening the eventual nominee for State.
Meanwhile, GOP staffers conducted extensive opposition research against me, mining the historical record for new lines of attack, since the Benghazi assault appeared to be losing steam. They turned their focus to assailing my Africa record, sometimes with the help of long-standing critics of my tenure in the Clinton administra
tion, including former ambassador to Sudan Tim Carney and committed loyalists of the late Richard Holbrooke, who seeded various negative press stories and opinion pieces, including one that resurfaced the false Vanity Fair allegations about Sudan and 9/11. Additional stories in The New York Times, The Atlantic, and elsewhere blasted me for being too close to Rwandan president Paul Kagame and protecting Rwanda from criticism at the U.N. I was also accused of being too sympathetic to autocratic “new” African leaders and indifferent to the extreme suffering in Congo.
Other press stories painted me as hotheaded, having a “personality disorder,” “screeching,” and being temperamentally ill-suited for the role of chief diplomat. A separate line of attack related to the bizarre claim that I was not actually opposed to the Iraq War (despite my early support for Howard Dean). Yet another vector was to assail my husband’s financial holdings, including in TransCanada, a Canadian oil pipeline company, which detractors said should disqualify me, since the State Department would advise the president on whether to approve the controversial TransCanada pipeline. (This was a particular red herring, as all I would have needed to do was recuse myself, which I did as national security advisor.)
Even the Russian government piled on, publicly opposing my nomination because I was too “ambitious and aggressive.” That condemnation I wore as a badge of honor, deeming it a backhanded compliment of my efficacy in battling Russia as U.N. ambassador. Taken together, it was clear I was facing an impressive multi-front assault fueled by disparate opponents from various stages of my career.
As harsh as the criticism was, I was heartened and deeply gratified by the sudden deluge of support. In Congress, Democrats in both houses were powerful advocates. Just one Republican publicly broke ranks to support me, Senator Johnny Isakson of Georgia, a kind, genteel man with whom I had worked closely on Africa issues. He used to send me Georgia peanuts and was always gracious. When asked about my potential nomination, Isakson told CNN, “What you don’t want to do… is shoot the messenger. She read what she was told to read on those days and those five interviews.… She’s become the focal point because she was put on the tip of the spear by the Administration. She is a very smart, very intelligent woman. I know this Ms. Rice, I think she’s done a good job as Ambassador to the U.N.”
Outside groups came to my defense—women, African Americans, and leaders of the American Jewish community who hailed me as a “gladiator” with “an unprecedented 100% pro-Israel voting record” in the U.N. Numerous colleagues—bosses, subordinates, and peers—rallied to my defense. From Madeleine Albright and Sandy Berger to former staffers at the NSC, including John Prendergast and Jeremy Weinstein, and (Republicans) Shawn McCormick and Jendayi Frazer, my Clinton administration contemporaries were outspoken. Michael O’Hanlon from Brookings also wrote many helpful articles supporting me. Secretary Clinton came to my defense in early December as well, calling me “a stalwart colleague,” emphasizing, “Let me repeat what I have said many times.… Susan Rice has done a great job as our U.N. ambassador” and has “played an important role in what we’ve been able to accomplish in the last four years.”
I was greatly buoyed by the depth and breadth of this outpouring of support when I needed it most. Yet, even as I appreciated their vocal defense of my integrity and my record, it was awkward for me, because I did not want to promote myself or campaign for the job of secretary of state. Instead, I wanted the decision to be the president’s to make without external pressure (at least any generated by me). Moreover, I knew that Senator Kerry was a very strong candidate who was bound to enjoy the support of many of his Senate colleagues.
By mid-December, it became clear that the attacks on me were not going to abate. Moreover, a budgetary crisis, the so-called “fiscal cliff” was looming, and Congress needed to confront this pressing partisan battle. I didn’t want a fight over my confirmation to add fuel to that fire or to delay and potentially derail top second-term priorities like immigration reform, to which I assigned enormous urgency and importance.
With Democrats controlling the Senate, I believed then (and still do) that I would have garnered more than enough votes to be confirmed, if not by a great margin and after an ugly fight. Senator Dick Durbin, the majority whip, agreed. When asked by the press on December 9 if he believed I would be confirmed if nominated, he said, “I do believe so. At the end, some of the criticisms against her have been unwarranted. Many have gone just too far. There’s really a basic feeling of fairness. She’s an extraordinary person. She’s certainly well-educated and has really served our nation well as ambassador to the U.N.”
Before the days of Trump, Betsy DeVos, Brett Kavanaugh, and our collective acquiescence to the narrowest of confirmation margins, I believed that the secretary of state (and other senior-most positions) should not be chosen along party lines. It is a role too important to our national security and international leadership to be used as a political football. That is still my view, though now it may seem quaint and antiquated.
After a couple of agonizing days of soul-searching and intense conversations with loved ones and a couple of my closest advisors, I made a decision. When I shared it with my mom—one early morning in the kitchen of my New York residence at the Waldorf, where she was visiting and drinking a cup of coffee—she must have spotted the resolve on my face as I walked in, still in my bathrobe. I joined her at the counter and gave her an extended hug.
“I’ve thought about this long and hard, and I’ve decided to pull out.” Outlining my reasoning, I explained, “First, I don’t think it is worth the demolition derby—to myself, our family, and the president’s priorities. It’s a manufactured controversy and a political hit job. But it isn’t worth fighting just because I feel vilified. You know how much I hate to quit. Anything. Ever since I was a tomboy and a competitive athlete and student, you know I have always refused to give up. But you also taught me there are bigger things than my ego, my reputation, or even my perceived integrity. Things like our policy priorities and our country.”
My mother was heartbroken, but I think also a bit relieved. We cried together for several minutes. Mom told me, as always, “You know how proud I am of you and how much I adore you.” She understood the basis for my decision and respected it. It meant everything to me to have her there to support me, to hold me close as if I were still her baby, and to assure me it would all be all right.
Ian was disappointed but, as always, my rock. I later learned that he was much more upset and angry than he let me know at the time. My brother, Johnny, was deeply pained that I had suffered so much and furious that it was ending this way. He too hid much of his emotion from me, but I could sense his deep frustration. Maris was grateful this nightmare was about to be over and didn’t hide her relief that we would soon put the ordeal behind us.
The person whose reaction I was least prepared for was Jake’s. I flew home and sat with him in our yellow-painted living room in Washington. He was then fifteen. I explained to Jake that I was withdrawing from consideration, because the fight wasn’t worth it for our family or the country. Jake had been dispassionate and strong throughout the whole Benghazi drama, but suddenly he broke down into tears. He begged me to change my mind: “Mom, you can’t quit. You are not a quitter. You taught me all my life never to give up. How can you do this?”
I tried to explain, “Jake, this is not about me. Sometimes, you don’t put yourself first. You put others first like your family, the president, and our country.”
He insisted, “I will be okay. The family can handle it. We have already been through the worst. You can’t let those people attacking you win.” We went back and forth for a while like this until he realized I wasn’t going to change my mind. I held him like my mom had held me and wept.
With my team, I devised a plan to roll out my decision. I spoke with the president and told him of my conclusion. It was a somber conversation. He said he was grateful for my continued service, deeply sorry for all I had been through, and respecte
d my decision to withdraw. In my letter dated December 13, I wrote to him:
I am highly honored to be considered by you for appointment as Secretary of State. I am fully confident that I could serve our country ably and effectively in that role. However, if nominated, I am now convinced that the confirmation process would be lengthy, disruptive, and costly—to you and to our most pressing national and international priorities.… Therefore, I respectfully request that you no longer consider my candidacy at this time.… I am grateful, as always, for your unwavering confidence in me and, especially, for your extraordinary personal support during these past several weeks.
In response, the president issued a statement:
For two decades, Susan has proven to be an extraordinarily capable, patriotic, and passionate public servant.… I am grateful that Susan will continue to serve as our Ambassador at the United Nations and a key member of my cabinet and national security team.… I have every confidence that Susan has limitless capability to serve our country now and in the years to come, and know that I will continue to rely on her as an advisor and friend. While I deeply regret the unfair and misleading attacks on Susan Rice in recent weeks, her decision demonstrates the strength of her character, and an admirable commitment to rise above the politics of the moment to put our national interests first.
To break the news in my own voice, I gave an interview to NBC’s Brian Williams, who anchored a weekly network prime-time news show, Rock Center. Before I left the U.S. Mission to head to Rockefeller Center to tape the show, President Obama called me again at my office. He reiterated his appreciation for how I handled everything. But his main message was what he said in closing: “Keep your cool. Don’t let them see you angry. Listen to some Jay-Z in the car on the way over there.” And, that’s what I did, rocking to “Empire State of Mind,” on my headphones.