Tough Love

by Susan Rice

  Their fabricated allegation was that I had asked the Intelligence Community to reveal to me the names of Trump associates who were caught in intelligence collection on foreign targets, and that my motives for doing so were political (though no one has ever explained what that meant). Worse, they claimed that once the names were provided to me, they were widely disseminated within the U.S. government, and thus, directly or indirectly, I was responsible for the leaking of those names to the press.

  The truth is far different. So-called “unmasking” and leaking are two very different things. “Unmasking,” or requesting the identity of a U.S. person or entity who is not named in a particular intelligence report, is something that I and other senior officials did when necessary to understand the report’s importance. As national security advisor, my job—like that of other cabinet-level national security officials—was to protect the American people and the security of our country. To help me do that, every morning the Intelligence Community gave me a carefully selected compilation of some twenty to thirty intelligence reports chosen to provide the best current information on what was going on around the world. I read them faithfully. On occasion, I received a report in which a “U.S. person” was referenced but no name was provided (as is customary to protect privacy). If, in order to assess the significance of the report, I needed to know who that “U.S. person” was, I would ask through my IC briefer whether the agency that produced the report could reveal the identity to me.

  To give a hypothetical: if I received a report about a conversation involving an unnamed American proposing to sell an adversary high-tech bomb-making equipment, clearly, as national security advisor, I would want to know who that American person was and whether he had the capacity to follow through. Was this some pretender on the internet flacking something he didn’t have, or was this a serious person with the will and the means to provide dangerous technology to an adversary? In such a case, the identity of the U.S. person is essential to assessing the importance of an intelligence report revealing a potential threat.

  There is a long-standing process by which such requests for the identity of U.S. persons are made to the Intelligence Community, and there are guidelines for the access and use of such information consistent with the law. Assuming the IC provides the identity of a “masked” U.S. person, it would come to me personally and directly from my briefer. The identity is not broadly disseminated throughout the national security community or the government. It is completely false to suggest that asking for the identity of an American person is the same as leaking it. Leaking classified information is a serious crime. I have not and would not leak classified information.

  As another example, if I saw information indicating Russia or any adversary were interfering in our electoral process, it would be my responsibility to understand its significance and initiate an appropriate policy process at the direction of the president. For me not to try to understand that information would be dereliction of duty. The much hyped and bogus “unmasking” charge was a case of being assailed for doing my job responsibly.

  But the truth be damned.

  President Trump told The New York Times, without a shred of evidence, that he thought I had committed a “crime.” To further hype the distraction, Trump said: “I think the Susan Rice thing is a massive story. I think it’s a massive, massive story.”

  Calling me a criminal from the Oval Office was so baseless that few in the mainstream media gave it credence. Trump sounded manic in defaming me, but he succeeded briefly in changing the subject from the Russia investigation, while firing up his base. The “unmasking” faux-scandal didn’t last that long, and it was such a bogus hit that it soon lost much steam even on the right. But more helpful than the power of the truth in refocusing public attention was President Trump himself, who continued generating an endless stream of juicier, fresher, and more deceitful distractions.

  Trump’s attacks on me have proved tame in comparison to those he has since leveled against many other loyal, principled public servants in both the Obama administration and his own. Tame as they are, I wear them as a badge of honor.

  My main comfort was that my mom was not here to see this happen again. Moreover, Maris, fourteen at the time, was old enough to understand the attacks in ways she could not five years earlier during Benghazi. Well-informed and a critical thinker, my daughter recognized that I was being vilified by the right wing to distract from concerns that the Trump team may have colluded with Russia during the 2016 election. This time, she was able to support me and urge me to stay strong.

  Similarly, Jake, who brooks no assault on his mother, was sympathetic and supportive throughout. By virtue of my experience, Jake has seen firsthand how dishonest and defamatory the right-wing media can be, even as he remains an all too avid consumer.

  Perplexing as such cognitive dissonance is to us, Ian and I love Jake as deeply and surely as any parents can love their child. We are thankful that he is a smart, self-disciplined, and responsible kid, who has given us few headaches apart from politics. We talk and text frequently when he is away, and he continues to seek his parents’ advice and crave our approval.

  Drawn academically to economics, political science, and history, Jake professes no interest in running for political office, favoring the private sector and finance. Ever quirky, his greatest passion remains birdwatching. Jake knows the sight and sound of most every bird in North America and continues to study the roughly ten thousand species worldwide. By his twenty-first birthday, Jake had recorded more than one thousand species of birds on six continents.

  As close as Jake and I are, we know exactly how to push each other’s buttons. Like every good Dickson and Rice, he is not shy about advocating, even aggressively, for what he believes. Our arguments can be calm and rational—when we try hard to reason deliberately and exercise maximum restraint.

  More often, a phone call or casual conversation in the car or around the dinner table can escalate into an explosive, sometimes profane argument. Occasionally, after a heated debate, Jake will muse aloud, “Maybe we should just stop talking about politics.” Truthfully, I’m sometimes sorely tempted to do so. But my response is, “Jake, if you and I can’t manage to discuss this stuff, I don’t know who can. Painful as it can be, we have to keep talking.”

  In reality, Jake and I differ more on policy means than ultimate ends; and, on some issues, we find our way to acknowledging that we don’t actually disagree that much, if at all. Indeed, we agree on: the importance of strong national defense and principled American global leadership; supporting democracy, human rights, and the rule of law; protecting the liberty and equality of every individual; free, fair trade and robust economic growth that enables many to thrive; the severity of the Russian threat; the value of our alliances; and a passion for Africa. Yet, we strongly differ on other foreign policy matters, such as Cuba, the Iran nuclear deal, and Middle East policy.

  We argue energetically over domestic policy. Jake typically takes a libertarian, constitutional conservative view of most social and economic issues, and I favor pragmatic progressive solutions. He is pro-life, while I am pro-choice. He favors shrinking the state, and I believe the state has an important role to play. He opposes the Affordable Care Act, while I am deeply committed to ensuring that quality health care is accessible to all. Jake is not exercised about climate change; to me, it is an urgent, existential threat.

  Even when most frustrated, I’m proud that Jake cares deeply about public issues and is an effective leader. It takes guts to get in the arena, especially at a place like Stanford where his views have earned him many dedicated detractors. Still, I confess it can be deeply painful to love someone so powerfully with whom I disagree so profoundly. As much as Ian and I have struggled to understand Jake’s ideological evolution, chastising ourselves—what did we do or not do?—to this day, we’re not sure when or why his views shifted so far to the right. The facts belie Jake’s claim that he has always been a conservative. Yet his po
sture seems more than a phase of youthful rebellion, given its intensity and duration—although a swing from one end of the spectrum to the other has been a pattern in Jake’s intellectual development. He moved from supporting the far-left Dennis Kucinich early in the 2008 campaign to center-left Obama, and then to conservative Rick Perry in 2012 and Tea Party ideologue Ted Cruz in 2016. Political views aside, Jake still personally likes and respects President Obama, who has always been extremely kind to him.

  As far to the right as Jake has moved, Maris—as warm and easygoing as ever—is almost an equal distance to the left. Brilliant and beautiful, an excellent high school student fascinated by science, math, and literature, a three-sport Varsity athlete, and saxophone player, she is deeply committed to celebrating diversity and demanding inclusion of all people without exception. Ian and I agree with Maris on social issues, even as she leans more left on economic policy than we do. Frugal to a fault, Maris rails against “entitlement” and is critical of excessive wealth.

  Rarely having met a progressive cause that she didn’t wish to champion, Maris rallies (often with us) for: civil rights; Black Lives Matter; March for Our Lives; gay pride; the Women’s March; Earth Day. Unfailingly lighthearted, tough-minded, and strong, Maris has wanted since age nine to serve her country in what she believes to be the most demanding possible way—in the armed forces. A better version of Mom and me, Maris is proof (at least in our family) that Darwin was onto something.

  Jake and Maris truly love each other, but given their extreme differences, as older children they have struggled to get along. Ian and I tried to mediate and defuse their battles—a thankless task. Imploring them to recognize what’s at stake, Ian once bluntly told the kids, “Just stop it. You guys need to listen and consider the other’s point of view. Pause ten seconds before responding to what the other said. Remember,” he stressed, “you two only have each other. Long after we’re gone, you will have to get along, or be alone.” It worked. In recent years, our children have mostly honored a mutual commitment to be more kind and try to understand each other’s perspective.

  In that spirit, unbeknownst to us, Maris invited Jake to come to speak at Maret, her school and his alma mater. She wanted her brother to share with the overwhelmingly liberal student body the foundation of his conservative views and then answer questions. Proud and at the same time nervous that the two might publicly combust, or that Jake would say something to offend Maris and other students, I anxiously awaited news of how the event unfolded.

  Maris happily reported, “Jake answered questions openly and respectfully. He offered a good explanation of his core values as a conservative, opening many eyes.” Fellow students told her that his views were internally consistent and made sense to them.

  While I privately wished Jake might have been less persuasive, I was thankful that both kids viewed the event as a success. In our household, we have tried to instill deep respect for free speech and the necessity to try to understand and debate (hopefully civilly) those with whom we differ. Jake usefully affords us firsthand insight into the perspectives of many fellow Americans, which we would otherwise lack. Without him and our inescapably contrasting views, I doubt I would fully appreciate the urgency and importance of bridging our increasingly deep domestic political divide.

  In the process of reflecting on the Washington in which I was raised and the world in which I am raising my kids, I am affirmed in my faith that, as a family and as a body politic, our divisions need not be fatal. We have the ability to heal.

  Personally, I still worry there could come a day when Jake and I determine that our disagreements have become so profound, that we are irreconcilable. Not only do I pray that never happens, but I am committed to doing everything in my power to prevent and repair any rupture. Love and respect, however tough, are the most powerful salves to heal wounds, and we can’t be afraid to use them—whether with family or, as I was reminded, with our compatriots.

  The distressing news of Senator John McCain’s terminal illness in 2017 prompted me to reflect on what Americans owe each other as fellow citizens, reminding me that to heal, we must be willing to forgive. Confronting that imperative, I struggled to reconcile my complicated feelings toward McCain. Though he had continuously assailed me and disdained many of the policies I helped craft, I could never bring myself to dislike him in return. He was often wrong on national security issues, in my view, and in particular too quick to favor using military force. Yet McCain consistently championed strong and principled U.S. global leadership, our alliances and universal values, while seeing clearly the threat we face from Russia and other totalitarian regimes.

  Above all, I admired John McCain’s guts, his fearlessness, and his readiness to stand up for what he believed. From his brave service in Vietnam and the torture he sustained as a POW to his firm rebuke of a supporter on the campaign trail who said she “can’t trust Obama… he’s an Arab,” from his gracious concession speech in 2008 to his principled vote to save the Affordable Care Act and his sustained critique of President Trump, Senator McCain was a patriot and a decent man. McCain also had a remarkable capacity to forgive—whether his Vietnamese captors or his political opponents whom he invited to speak at his funeral. His loss dealt a blow to our democracy and our global leadership.

  When he died, I was saddened but also deeply torn. I had long regretted my comments about McCain on the 2008 campaign trail, which were fairly construed as disrespectful. My aim had been to draw a contrast on policy but not to engage in an ad hominem attack. Much as I wanted to pay my respects and honor his service, knowing how he felt about me, I didn’t want to seem a hypocrite or the classic Washington poser who cares mainly about being seen. Wrestling with the question of whether to attend his funeral, I had decided to stay home and watch it on television.

  Then I received an email that made me laugh so hard I cried. It was from Ambassador Deborah Jones, whom I had not heard from since I left government. A career foreign service officer who had succeeded Christopher Stevens as U.S. envoy to Libya, she wrote to me days after McCain’s passing but before his memorial service at the Washington National Cathedral:

  Dear Susan,

  Just wanted to share this private anecdote with you because it was so typical of John McCain, God rest his soul, and involved you.

  As you know only too well, McCain was obsessed with Libya, even more so following Chris Stevens’ death in Benghazi. He loved the romantic notion of dealing with “the war” (revolutionaries) and he also had a great fondness for Chris and believed the Obama Administration had covered up the “real [AQ] story” on Benghazi. He’d come to Tripoli for a whirlwind visit—naturally flying milair—and we’d ensured he’d gotten to see some of “the war” and to visit his favorite shawarma stand (security be damned) and were heading back to the airport. He asked me what Libyans currently thought of America (this was late 2013 I recall) and before I realized what I was triggering in him, the words were leaving my mouth to recount that Libyans had told me: “When she raised her right hand at the UN to support the Libyan people against Qaddafi, Susan Rice became our Statue of Liberty!” He erupted, nearly leaping across the seat at me, yelling “well that was before she lied, LIED about Benghazi!” I replied “Senator, we’re just going to have to agree to disagree on that point,” which only served to infuriate him further. “Madame Ambassador,” he began—which as you know is what happens when Senators are irritated; they resort to formal title—and continued facetiously “I’m sure you know Libya much better than I do [here I interjected, “oh Senator, I’m sure I do not”] but you can’t tell me that large groups of young men go around carrying RPG’s and the sort of weapons those groups who attacked our facilities in Benghazi were carrying!” Just then a bunch of heavily armed militia members drove by. “Senator, they do,” I replied. We rode in silence the rest of the way. (I should mention that his accompanying staff, unaccustomed to hearing anyone push back on the great man were smiling ear to ear in the rear seat of our ar
mored SUV.)

  I’ve never forgotten this. I actually found it rather amusing.

  Hope all is well with you and yours,

  Best,

  Deborah Jones

  Once I collected myself, I forwarded the email to a few family members and to my good friend since Oxford, Lance Bultena, for their amusement. A South Dakota Republican, Lance had worked for McCain in the Senate and tried to advise me in the wake of Benghazi on how best to defuse McCain’s ire. Lance loved Ambassador Jones’s message and opined on how McCain would have approached my funeral, “Were he you, he would have attended the funeral to get the attention and make the type of generous comment with a slight ‘but’—without using the word ‘but’—to trigger the press awareness of what was being said.” Hearing my explanation as to why I would not attend, Lance deftly persuaded me that going was the right thing to do, subtly suggesting that it would be a gesture of forgiveness and healing. Lance secured me a ticket as his guest at the invitation-only ceremony, after alerting the organizers whom he intended to bring. Hearing no objection, which I took as a reciprocal measure, I sat discreetly in the back row of the long Cathedral Nave. It felt appropriate to be present and personally give the “great man,” as Ambassador Jones called him, his due.

  At a time when the president and many political leaders govern deliberately in a manner designed to exacerbate our divisions, the challenge of overcoming them is greater than ever. Tragically, we have entered an unprecedented era in which the president of the United States tells bald-faced lies on a near daily basis, while attacking unpleasant truths as “fake news,” the free press as “the enemy of the people,” and loyal career public servants and critical government institutions as “the Deep State.” His demonization of our fellow Americans—from Muslims to Latinos, refugees, immigrants, women, transgender persons, African Americans, and other minorities, while excusing or even praising anti-Semitic, racist white supremacists—has become so commonplace as to be nearly numbing. At the same time, President Trump lauds adversaries like Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Un, embraces autocrats from Turkey to Saudi Arabia, dismisses scores of nations as “shithole countries,” and degrades our treaty allies who share our values.