by John McCain
There wasn’t a next time for Ted. In January, at a big rally with his niece Caroline, he endorsed Barack Obama for President despite both Clintons beseeching him not to. It was a big deal. Ted’s endorsement was one of the most influential in his party, and it came when Obama most needed it, not long after Hillary had won New Hampshire. Reportedly, Obama had assured Ted that were he elected, he would make an early and aggressive push for universal health care insurance. A couple days after the endorsement, Ted called me to check in. I was in our campaign bus rolling down some highway in a state I can’t remember. Lindsey was with me. I had won the South Carolina primary a few days earlier. Ted congratulated me and said it looked like I’d be the nominee. I told him I wasn’t so sure, but that I expected him to start beating the hell out of me anyway. We traded gossip for a few minutes, and then Lindsey asked me to pass the phone to him. “Ted,” he drawled, “can I have your hideaway office?” Senators have small offices in the Capitol building in addition to their official offices. Most are cubbyholes tucked away in the basement or a back hall. The most senior senators have grander ones, with views of the Mall. Ted’s was the nicest.
“Why?” Ted asked.
“Because the Clintons are going to have you murdered,” Lindsey explained.
I could hear Ted’s laughter boom from the phone Lindsey held several feet away, over the din of the crowded bus.
Four months later, Ted had a seizure, and was diagnosed with brain cancer, glioblastoma. Surgeons removed as much of the tumor as they could in a long operation in June 2008, and he started chemotherapy and radiation to keep the cancer at bay as long as possible. He was back in the Senate the next month to help break a Republican filibuster of Medicare legislation, and he gave a speech at the Democratic convention in August from memory because he couldn’t see well enough to read the teleprompter. After that, he withdrew from the public spotlight for longer periods as he fought his cancer. He attended Barack Obama’s inauguration, but fell ill at the lunch in the Capitol that followed the ceremony. He came back to the Senate for a few important votes, and to help behind the scenes get a health care bill through the health committee he had chaired. I spoke with him a few times as he got weaker. He was as positive as he could be given the circumstances, but not self-deluding. He set a fine, brave example. He died the following August, at his beloved Hyannis Port home.
Early in President Obama’s first term, a few immigration advocates we had worked closely with in the previous two attempts asked to meet with me in my Washington office. It was a short meeting. They started explaining what they wanted included in a new immigration bill, some of which they informed me they would work out with the new administration with a plan to introduce new legislation in the spring. I was, I expect, a little irritated and abrupt at being instructed. I was still chafing over attacks the Obama campaign had made on my immigration position, one ad likening me to Rush Limbaugh, who had regularly attacked me as “Amnesty John.” I hadn’t expected any of the immigration activists we had worked with to endorse my candidacy. They were Democrats. Their support for Obama was expected and fine with me. I was, however, disappointed that not one of them had come to my defense over the Limbaugh comparison. I told them to come see me when the White House had an immigration proposal they would like me to consider supporting. I would give it the attention it deserved. Then I nodded at the door.
There never was a White House immigration proposal. However, after Obama’s reelection in 2012, I went to see Chuck Schumer to discuss putting together a bipartisan group to sponsor a new immigration bill. The Gang of Eight, we were styled by the press. Four Democrats and four Republicans. Lindsey joined us, and Jeff Flake, my new Arizona Senate colleague, Jon Kyl having retired. And another relative newcomer to the Senate, Marco Rubio, who had been elected in the Tea Party wave in the 2010 midterms, a Cuban American and gifted speaker, who was marked as an up-and-comer. Chuck; Dick Durbin, the Democrats’ whip; Bob Menendez of New Jersey; and Michael Bennet of Colorado made up the Democratic quartet. I got along with all the Gang members. Each had skills for the fight I valued.
The White House helped us put together the bill, and the President shrewdly and with admirable discipline made sure to keep the attention focused on the Senate. The bill provided for more security and enforcement, more fencing, more customs and border control agents, a more elaborate employment verification system. It divided temporary work visas into three categories, one for high-skilled workers, a guest worker visa for low-skilled workers, and a separate category for agricultural workers. To protect American workers, no temporary work visas would be granted for jobs in areas of the country where unemployment was high. The path to citizenship, which began with a green card application after five years for Dreamers, and ten years for people who came here as adults, would be suspended if specific markers for improved border security weren’t met. One marker was a 90 percent apprehension rate for people crossing the border. Stopping 90 percent of illegal crossings was an awfully tall task that any rational, honest observer would acknowledge was as close to a secure border as was possible to achieve. The bill was a balanced, conservative, scrupulously thorough and fair attempt to settle the immigration problem in a way that would satisfy economic needs, the interests of American workers, justice, and human decency. I’m proud it passed the Senate with a supermajority, 68 to 32, despite the furious protests of anti-reform senators. For them, every realistic attempt to address the issue will always be an “amnesty bill,” no matter how rigorous and fair the path to legalized status for immigrants who have been here for years and will stay here the rest of their lives no matter what we do.
Once again, another broadly popular, eminently fair, and workable solution to the immigration problem was buried in the Republican House. I’ve made calls to three Republican Speakers of the House to plead the case for comprehensive reform. This time the Speaker who declined to put a comprehensive immigration bill on the floor for a vote was John Boehner, who I’m pretty sure agreed with my views on the issue. But because the House Republican caucus, to John’s frequent frustration, is driven crazy by the incessant demands of the say-no-to-everything crowd otherwise known as the Freedom Caucus, and because more sensible Republicans are afraid of primary challenges, this acceptable solution to a solvable problem that impacts the lives of a great many souls never got a vote. If it ever did, it would pass the House easily with Democratic support. But we’re at a place in our political history when passing legislation through the House with bipartisan support is considered by some folks a greater evil than the problem it’s intended to solve.
I’ve come to the conclusion that to get an immigration bill through Congress and to the President’s desk will require one of three things to happen. Either Democrats retake the House, or enough practical, problem-solving House Republicans vote for a discharge petition as happened with McCain-Feingold, or Republican leaders break with recent precedent and bring a bill to the floor for a vote that offends the Freedom Caucus. I’d vote for the latter, but it’s not in my power to arrange, more’s the pity. Like my friend Ted, I might have fought my last immigration battle. I’ve got another one in me. I feel sure of that as we write this, and I’ve co-sponsored a new immigration bill with Chris Coons of Delaware. I’m not as sure that I’ve sufficient time left to see it all the way through. That, alas, isn’t my call to make.
I spoke at Ted’s memorial service at the Kennedy Library. I recalled his generosity toward my youngest son, Jimmy, many years ago, when Russ Feingold and I had come to the library to receive an award for supporting campaign finance reform. It was Jimmy’s birthday, and Cindy and I had worried we would be too busy with official activities to celebrate the occasion. Ted arranged for a Coast Guard cutter to carry us across Boston Harbor to the library. He had a cake on board, and he led a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Later that night, he produced another cake, and sang “Happy Birthday” again with no loss of enthusiasm. Then I recalled our long-ago stormy and p
rofane exchange over Carol Moseley Braun’s speech, and how much we had enjoyed it. “I’ll go back to the Senate,” I said, “and I’ll try to be as persistent as Ted was, and as passionate for the work. I know I’m privileged to serve there. But . . . the place won’t be the same without him.”
And it hasn’t been. It’s been a privilege, and I’ve enjoyed the last nine years. I’ve been reelected twice in that time, and I’ve fought hard for the causes that mattered most to me, as hard, I hope, as Ted would expect me to fight. But the fights would have been more fun were Ted one of the combatants. Whether he was fighting on my side or on the other, it wouldn’t have mattered that much. I would’ve just been happy to hear his bombast resounding in the chamber, and give it back to him if I dared.
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
Nyet
(Know Thine Enemy)
I REGULARLY ATTEND AN ANNUAL security conference in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The only thing unusual about the November 2016 meeting was that it occurred just after the U.S. presidential election, and most of the formal and informal conversations among the conferees were about what to expect from the President-elect, Donald Trump. The subject was causing consternation among the governments, military, and intelligentsia of the West, including ours. I spent most of my time in Halifax reassuring friends that the United States government consists of more than the White House. Congress and, I hoped, the people the new President would appoint to senior national security positions would provide continuity in U.S. foreign policy, compensate for the lack of experience in the Oval Office, and restrain the occupant from impulsively reacting to world events.
Saturday evening, when the day’s presentations were finished, a retired British diplomat, who had served as the United Kingdom’s ambassador to Russia during Vladimir Putin’s rapid ascent to the Russian presidency, Sir Andrew Wood, asked to have a word. I might have been introduced to him before at a previous conference, but I don’t recall ever having had a conversation with him. Nevertheless, I agreed to sit down with him for a few minutes. We found a room off the main conference hall, with a few chairs scattered around a coffee table. Chris Brose of the Senate Armed Services Committee staff and David Kramer joined us. David is a former assistant secretary of state, who has extensive experience dealing with Russia. He was working at the time at the McCain Institute for International Leadership, a policy organization dedicated to preparing world leaders and advancing human rights founded by Arizona State University.
We briefly discussed Russia’s interference in the election, the hacking of the Democratic National Committee’s and John Podesta’s emails, which U.S. intelligence services concurred had been part of a Kremlin attempt to sabotage Hillary Clinton’s chances and improve Trump’s. We speculated about what Putin hoped to gain by taking such a risk, and discussed how to dissuade him from similar mischief in the future. I’m of the opinion that unless Putin is made to regret his decision he will return to the scene of the crime again and again. Crime has most certainly paid for Vladimir Putin, while leaving his country underdeveloped and over-dependent on its oil and gas resources. I’ve heard it speculated that he might be the wealthiest person on earth, and every ruble of his wealth will have been stolen from the Russian people. Imposing sanctions on Putin and his closest confederates, freezing assets, travel bans, and financial and trade restrictions on Russian entities tied to the Kremlin are appropriate and helpful. But to make Putin deeply regret his assault on the foundation of our democracy—free and fair elections—we should seriously consider retaliating with the kinds of weapons he used. We are in an information war with Russia whether we want to recognize it or not, and in this war offense might be our best defense. We have cyber capabilities, too. They could be used to expose the epic scale of his regime’s corruption or to embarrass him in other ways. Although discussions of how to utilize them should remain confidential, the West, led by the United States, must accept that Putin is and will remain our implacable foe, and act accordingly. He won’t stop until he’s made to stop. With his troll farms and hackers, he continues to this day to provoke and exacerbate political divisions within and between our countries, and undermine the operations of and confidence in our democracies. He will not stop until the political and personal price he’s made to pay for his sabotage is greater than the advantages it has provided him. He never was, he is not now, and he never will be our partner. That delusional aspiration has led many Western governments to underestimate Putin’s megalomania and the enmity he has for the United States.
After a few minutes, Sir Andrew came to the subject that was his reason for approaching us. He told me he knew a former MI6 officer by the name of Christopher Steele, who had been commissioned to investigate connections between the Trump campaign and Russian agents as well as potentially compromising information about the President-elect that Putin allegedly possessed. Steele had prepared a report that Wood had not read and conceded was mostly raw, unverified intelligence, but that the author strongly believed merited a thorough examination by counterintelligence experts. Steele was a respected professional, Wood assured us, who had good Russian contacts and long experience collecting and analyzing intelligence on the Kremlin. Both Steele and Wood were alarmed by what he had learned and worried that it would not be further investigated.
I was alarmed by Russian interference in the election. Any loyal American should be. I wanted to make Putin pay a steep price for it, and I worried the incoming administration would not be so inclined. I had strongly disagreed with candidate Trump’s admiration for Vladimir Putin, which I put down to naïveté and a general lack of seriousness about Putin’s antagonism to U.S. interests and values. But I was skeptical that Trump or his aides had actively cooperated with Russia’s interference. And I certainly did not want to believe that the Kremlin could have acquired kompromat on an American President. There were some odd characters involved in Trump’s campaign. But this was too strange a scenario to believe, something out of a le Carré novel, not the kind of thing anyone has ever actually had to worry about with a new President, no matter what other concerns you might have about him. But even a remote risk that the President of the United States might be vulnerable to Russian extortion had to be investigated. Our impromptu meeting felt charged with a strange intensity. No one wisecracked to lighten the mood. We spoke in lowered voices. The room was dimly lit, and the atmosphere was eerie. Wood described Steele’s research in general terms. He had not read it himself, but vouched for Steele’s credibility. I was taken aback. They were shocking allegations. When Wood offered to arrange to provide me a copy of his research, I knew that were Steele as reputable as Wood claimed, I would have a duty to see that the report was placed in the hands of those who had the resources to investigate its contents. I thanked Wood warmly, told him he had done the right thing, and that I was grateful he had brought it to my attention.
David Kramer offered to go to London to meet Steele, confirm his credibility, and report back to me. I agreed to the idea. When David returned, and shared his impression that the former spy was, as Sir Andrew had vouched, a respected professional, and not to outward appearances given to hyperbole or hysteria, I agreed to receive a copy of what is now referred to as “the dossier.” I reviewed its contents. The allegations were disturbing, but I had no idea which if any were true. I could not independently verify any of it, and so I did what any American who cares about our nation’s security should have done. I put the dossier in my office safe, called the office of the director of the FBI, Jim Comey, and asked for a meeting. I went to see him at his earliest convenience, handed him the dossier, explained how it had come into my possession. I said I didn’t know what to make of it, and I trusted the FBI would examine it carefully and investigate its claims. With that, I thanked the director and left. The entire meeting had probably not lasted longer than ten minutes. I did what duty demanded I do.
I don’t know what is true, partially true, or not true in the dossier. I gave it to the people bes
t equipped to answer those questions. Had I done any more, I would have exceeded my capability. Had I done any less I would be ashamed of myself. And if any of my colleagues in Congress had been in my situation and not done what I did, I would be ashamed of them.
I am very familiar with the persistence and the damage done by groundless conspiracy theories. Even before the Internet provided the medium for the proliferation of all manner of unhinged speculation, I had confronted more easily discredited conspiracy mongering. In the early 1990s, I was a member of a Senate committee investigating claims that American POWs were still held in Vietnam after the war. We refuted a variety of unfounded accusations that six presidential administrations had covered up the fact that we had left POWs behind in Vietnam. They were tales concocted by crazy people or con artists, and embraced by some families of the missing who were desperate for any hope their loved ones might still come home. It was cruel to raise false hopes like that, and I took strong exception to it with some of the people responsible. For my trouble, I became the subject of a conspiracy theory that claimed I was the Manchurian Candidate, brainwashed by Russians when I was a prisoner of war in Hanoi, and planted in the American political scene to do their bidding. The Russians were likely more amused by the idea than I was. As I recalled in an earlier chapter, my meeting with members of the Free Syrian Army a few miles inside the Syrian border was seized by Internet hysterics and converted into a secret meeting with ISIS. A photograph of the event was Photoshopped to place the head of ISIS emir Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi on the shoulders of one of the participants.