by Sean Spicer
Another journalist, Peter Hamby, formerly of CNN and now head of news at Snapchat, wrote a long, insightful paper at the Harvard Kennedy School’s Shorenstein Center that diagnosed the problems social media is importing into media ethics.
He wrote, “With Instagram and Twitter-primed iPhones, an ever more youthful press corps, and a journalistic reward structure in Washington that often prizes speed and scoops over context, campaigns are increasingly fearful of the reporters who cover them. Any perceived gaffe or stumble can become a full-blown narrative in a matter of hours, if not minutes, thanks to the velocity of the Twitter conversation that now informs national reporters, editors and television producers.”
Hamby concluded that “Twitter is the central news source for the Washington-based political news establishment.”
The problem, and I suspect Hamby would agree, is that Twitter is not glue. It is a solvent. It is breaking us down and breaking us apart. (And yes, I see the irony of Donald Trump’s former press secretary making this observation.) With Twitter at the center, substantive issues that require more than 280 characters get short shrift. Jaime Dimon, head of JPMorgan Chase & Co., expressed a sentiment common to many Americans in July 2017 when he said, “The United States of America has to start to focus on policy which is good for all Americans, and that is infrastructure, regulation, taxation, education. Why you guys don’t write about it every day is completely beyond me.”3
Twitter and other social media platforms let us say stuff we would never say to a person’s face (at least most of us would not). We can keep pointing fingers or start calling out certain comments that are out of bounds. But that includes the media calling themselves out and holding themselves accountable. Politicians and citizens can get raked over the coals for non-private tweets, and so should journalists. We can’t settle for just keeping up with the lowest common dominator on Twitter.
Many journalists see the president’s attacks on “fake news” as an attack on them personally.
AP’s Julie Pace told Politico, “The attacks on the media, the attempts to undermine our credibility, they see as very much part of the Trump agenda. I don’t think it’s a show in the sense that I do think that they see this as part of the agenda. This is something that they believe is central to Trump’s success, is to try to undermine negative coverage about him. And I think they believe in that mission, I really do.”
In making our case to the media, we should focus on highlighting the specific issues we have with certain stories as opposed to painting them all with a broad brush.
At the root of the media’s behavior is a belief that the other side is playing dirty. When the president cracked down to catch leakers in the national security arena—including leaks of classified information, such as his conversations with national leaders—some in the intelligence world privately complained to the press that they were living in “a culture of fear.”4 President Trump would say that a person shouldn’t have anything to fear as long as he or she is not breaking the law.
Last year, Senator Ron Johnson, chairman of the Senate Committee on Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs, said that serious leaks are “flowing at the rate of one a day.” This statement is mostly not about the kind of insider leaks that come out of the White House about who’s up and who’s down or what the president had for dinner. The senator instead referred to serious leaks of classified information. His committee released a report revealing that the Trump administration is facing leaks at a rate that is “seven times higher than the same period during the two previous administrations.” The committee’s report also stated, “In short, the unauthorized disclosure of certain information can cost American lives, and our laws protecting this information provide for harsh punishments when violated.”5
The leaks are bad enough. Compounding it from the president’s point of view are the numerous errors of top news outlets. Jonathan Easley of The Hill cataloged many “bombshell stories [about the president or his administration that] were either overcooked or included incorrect details.”
For example, the Associated Press ran a story about how Environmental Protections Agency Administrator Scott Pruitt met privately with the CEO of a top chemical company and then decided to drop a ban on a widely used pesticide that has been shown to harm children’s brains.
The meeting never happened. Easley listed similar embarrassments for CNN, the New York Times, and other major news organizations. Even worse—from the mainstream media’s point of view—is the fact that many of these stories were corrected by Breitbart News.6 If you have a jaundiced view of Breitbart, perhaps you might want to ask yourself the following question: what are we doing so wrong that we are susceptible to being corrected by Breitbart?
Is it any wonder that, faced with such a juggernaut of official and media opposition, the president lashes out? Or that so many nod their heads when the president attacks fake news and big news organizations?
If we are all believers in the First Amendment, then we should embrace the whole of it. The First Amendment is about more than the freedom of the press; it is about each of us being able to voice our views. While the media has the right to publish and broadcast what it chooses, the rest of us have an equal right to voice our beliefs and to criticize what the media writes and broadcasts. I have my differences with more than a few people in the media, but I still firmly believe that a healthy democracy must have a free and robust press corps. Our nation is the envy of the world because we all have the right to speak freely and are able to criticize our government and leaders. But with that awesome right should come a hefty responsibility.
Understanding that the First Amendment is for everybody is at the heart of establishing a better relationship between the White House and the press corps. Sometimes, the rhetoric stemming from this relationship has been overheated, and both parties were in need of the wisdom of Proverbs 15:18: “A hot-tempered person stirs up conflict, but the one who is patient calms a quarrel” (NIV). There have been tweets and statements from both sides that were intended to wound. But if we could all remain tough, critical, and in pursuit of the truth, we would be in a good place to start moving forward.
During my last days in the White House in August 2017, I focused on tax reform. I worked closely with Marc Short of the legislative affairs team, Bill McGinley of the Office of Intergovernmental Affairs, George Sifakis of the Office of Public Liaison, experts from the Department of the Treasury, the team at the National Economic Council, and, of course, the White House communications team. All of us wanted to make sure that legislative, policy, and communications initiatives worked together like a symphony to advance the president’s tax plan.
Planning the rollout of a big campaign was my wheelhouse. By the time my last day rolled around on September 1, I felt that we had a thorough, buttoned-down blueprint to get the tax reform across the finish line. After I returned to private life, it was a thrill to watch the plan unfold, Congress pass the tax bill in December 2017, and the president sign it into law as Americans across the country received economic relief unlike many have ever seen. This landmark tax package has been reviving the economy and getting Americans back to work.
It was also a pleasure to see Sarah take the podium. She is very adept at recognizing what works and what doesn’t, the needs of the press corps, and the needs of the president. She hit the ground running because she is such a keen observer and quick learner.
As for myself, for the first time in my adult life, I was not working full-time for a campaign, a party, the military, or the government (save a small stint with my own firm in 2009). And that was by design. I now had an opportunity to make a living by speaking to business and political groups, to help well-selected clients, and, yes, to write a book.
I had talked long and hard with a number of people about the job of press secretary after election night—Reince, Hope, a couple of close friends and family members, especially Rebecca who expressed absolutely no hesitation about me taking the job. In fact
, she encouraged me at every step. “It’s an honor to be offered the opportunity to serve our country in any White House. It’s also an awesome responsibility,” she would say. Fewer than thirty Americans have had the privilege of serving as White House press secretary. I am honored to be part of that exclusive group.
I had sought out this job and fought for it. But it was a relief to finally be out of the hot seat— not just that of the press secretary, but of the RNC, the U.S. House of Representatives, congressional committees, congressional offices, and more campaigns than I can now remember.
Along with the daily pressure of being inside the White House, I was giving up the pressure of being a public figure of controversy. Rebecca and I could not go out to dinner without being mobbed—and often being told off or getting the finger, even in front of our young children. We found that the Army Navy Country Club—which we had joined when I was a junior Navy officer—was the only place we could go without being approached or recorded on a phone. There were times when we saw activists driving or walking by.
It had gotten to the point where I was even being accosted in places like Harris Teeter, where a woman lit into me while I was trying to buy frozen peas. She started while I was opening the freezer door. All the while I was hoping she wasn’t recording our encounter in the frozen food section with her smartphone.
After she gave me an earful, I said, “Ma’am, I’m literally just trying to buy some frozen peas here.”
“Really? You have kids? My kids like peas,” she said.
“We have that in common. I hope you have a great night.”
Shortly after I had announced my resignation, one of the White House operators, Joan Sass— another one of the countless, dedicated public servants who make the White House work so well— sent me an email with a quote from the late White House Press Secretary Tony Snow, who served under George W. Bush. “The White House, with all its pressures, intrigues, triumphs, betrayals, joys and disappointments, is the most special place you will ever work. Look out the gates at the people who slow their gait as they pass, trying to get a glimpse of someone—anyone. They know what you’re likely to forget. You’re blessed.”
He was right.
On my last day in the office, the staff hosted a going-away party for me. I asked several of them to join me on the walk to the bar where the party was held. We walked out of the White House, past the Rose Garden, and on to the driveway by the South Lawn. A Secret Service officer opened the gates to the southeast driveway so that we could walk out as a group. After we passed through, I turned around, stopped, and watched those gates slowly close on my White House service for a last time.
Once I was outside the gates, there was an interesting change in how I was treated. Rebecca and I slowly started going to dinner with our children in public places. Once again, people would approach us, but the interaction was very different. Many people wanted to shake my hand and get a selfie. Some wanted to thank me for my service. And even liberal activists treated me like a notable person, instead of a cutout to harangue. “I may not agree with your politics, but I appreciate what you’ve done for our country,” several have said to me.
I was determined to slow down, to be deliberate, and to explore my options while enjoying life with my family. I didn’t expect that some of them would be a fleeting brush with the entertainment industry.
I got calls from several late-night TV shows, from Seth Meyers’s to James Corden’s. I thought it would be interesting to poke a little fun at myself, as long as it was good spirited and not mean. I made it clear to all of the shows that if they wanted me to denigrate the president, then I wasn’t their guy. When Jimmy Kimmel’s team reached out to me, I had some good conversations. I would later talk with Jimmy himself. I could sense that he was a truly decent guy, liberal but willing to be fair and funny. I also knew that President George W. Bush had been on Jimmy’s show and had been treated with respect.
Soon after that call, I agreed to appear on his show. Rebecca and I flew out to Los Angeles the night before I was scheduled to appear. We made sure to make the most of our time and meet with as many people as possible. Chris Licht, Stephen Colbert’s executive producer, asked me to meet him at the W Hotel, just a few blocks down Hollywood Boulevard from where we were staying. I had known Chris since his days as the executive producer of Morning Joe. I went to the meeting expecting Chris to ask me to be on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. Instead, he had another gig in mind.
“Hey, I got an interesting question for you,” Chris said. “How would you like to open the Emmys? Stephen and I were talking about this. We think it would be hysterical.”
After a few seconds of stunned silence, I said, “Look, let me run it by my wife.” Rebecca advised me to see the script before giving an answer. We agreed that I could have a little fun at my own expense, but I didn’t want to do anything to anger either the president or the press.
I left Chris to join some high school classmates from Portsmouth Abbey School for dinner. After dinner, Rebecca and I met up with actor Rob Lowe who had famously played Sam Seaborn on The West Wing. Washington social maven Susanna Quinn had introduced us after I had been announced as press secretary, and I wanted to get his opinion on opening the Emmys.
“You have to do it,” said Rob. After seeing the script, Rebecca agreed.
We flew back to Washington the day after I appeared on Kimmel’s show, only to get ready to head back out to Los Angeles. Colbert’s team wanted my appearance to be a surprise, so I did everything I could to make it known that I was back in Virginia. I even posted photos of myself doing television interviews from my front yard to establish that I was home.
Just two days later, we got back on a plane to Los Angeles. I was wearing a baseball cap and glasses, attempting to travel incognito. Once we arrived at the hotel, I had to stay in the room so that I wouldn’t run the risk of someone seeing me. Rebecca could get us food (and a couple of drinks), and she could also answer the telephone when it rang in the room.
That afternoon, we were taken to the Microsoft Theater for a brief rehearsal with Stephen. I was whisked into the theater through a back entrance and blocked-off corridors. The stage and surrounding area had been cleared of all crew and guests to maintain the secrecy. My name was even kept out of the script.
So, on the evening of September 17, with butterflies in my stomach, I rolled a mock White House podium onto the stage to declare, “This will be the largest audience to witness an Emmys—period—both in person and around the world.”
The gasps from the audience were audible.
Back stage, I had had a chance to meet LL Cool J, Dolly Parton, many Saturday Night Live cast members, and Alec Baldwin—who were all personable and charming. James Corden gave me a kiss on the cheek, and many other Hollywood A-listers talked to me as well. All of them said kind things about my willingness to poke fun at myself. I was actually shocked. I assumed our conversations would been contentious considering their stereotypical political leanings.
The warm feeling continued through several post-Emmy parties.
But it couldn’t last, not in that environment. The next day, Vanity Fair and other Hollywood outlets began to report criticism of Stephen Colbert for inviting me. Many who had been nice to me were forced to recant and to virtually denounce me in the press and on Twitter. James Corden had to apologize three different ways.
Despite the bad aftertaste, I had enjoyed my Hollywood experience. I find it stimulating to talk with people who have different political viewpoints—and necessary. They might learn something from me. And, yes, I might learn from them, too.
I spent my career in service to powerful people, always in a supporting role to someone else who played the part of the principal—a member of Congress, an RNC chairman, a president of the United States.
Now I was my own principal. Now, at last, I was free to be my own man.
I will be forever grateful to the president, the First Lady, Reince, and my family for being ab
le to have the honor and privilege of serving the country in this position. It is an amazing job, but it’s a lonely job that very few people have had and even fewer can appreciate in the current environment.
The night I resigned, a White House reporter sent an email to my long-time friend Ron Bonjean that read, “One element of his legacy is this: he democratized the press room. By calling on those of us in the back of the room, he broke the grip that the front row had on the briefing. And I don’t think it will go back any time soon. A lot more voices are heard now. So, from a guy at the back of the room, tell him thanks.” I am professionally very proud of that accomplishment and do hope it lasts. We are a country of many opinions and voices, and they should be heard and respected.
It has been a long-standing tradition that the outgoing press secretary leaves a note to the incoming one. In his note to me, outgoing Obama Press Secretary Josh Earnest wrote, “Because your work is essential to the success of our democracy, it is not hard for me to set aside my political views and genuinely root for you to succeed in this role.” Pure class.
I got notes and calls from many of my other predecessors. It’s a small group from both parties who have shared in this truly unique role.
A few months after I left the White House, the rector of the Basilica of St. Mary in Old Town Alexandria, Father Edward Hathaway, distributed copies of the book Perfectly Yourself: Discovering God’s Dream for You for Lenten reading. The author, Matthew Kelly, quotes political theorist and scholar Benjamin Barber:
I divide the world into learners and non-learners. There are people who learn, who are open to what happens around them, who listen, who hear the lessons. When they do something stupid, they don’t do it again. And when they do something that works a little bit, they do it even better and harder the next time. The question to ask is not whether you are a success or a failure, but whether you are a learner or a non-learner.7