The Ridiculously Good Wife: Sen. David Vitter Linked to the "D.C. Madam" (July 16, 2007)

What was the deal?  A federal investigation into an escort service run by Deborah Jeane Palfrey, a/k/a the "D.C. Madam," turned up the phone number of U.S. Senator David Vitter, a Louisiana pol who built his career on moral issues, family values, and the sanctity of marriage.  Uh-oh.  When the news broke, husband and father Vitter released a statement admitting calling Palfrey's service prior to his election to the Senate in 2004 and while serving in the U.S. House of Representatives.  Following this admission, Vitter went into seclusion for a week during which subsequent media reports linked the senator to a prostitution case in New Orleans.  The fresh charges and Vitter's hiding intensified the media scrutiny until, finally, the senator, along with his wife Wendy, called a press briefing in Metairie, Lousiana.

What did he say?  A transcript of the Vitters' statements, delivered five years ago today, can be found here and the video here.

How did he do? There's both good and bad in David Vitter's relatively brief statement.  He gets to an apology (mortification) quickly enough:  "I want to, again, offer my deep, sincere apologies to all those I have let down and disappointed with these actions from my past. I am completely responsible. And I am so very, very sorry."  The senator also explicitly denies the New Orleans allegations.  The most sophisticated strategy in Vitter's speech is to emphasize the framing of his misconduct as a private matter from a distant past and, therefore, not warranting public concern in 2007.  He often reminds the audience of the age of his dirty deeds ("actions from my past," "no matter how long ago it was," "dealt with this personally several years ago," "my past failings").  He further stresses the private nature of his situation when he states:  "Wendy and I dealt with this personally several years ago. I confronted it in confession and marriage counseling. I believe I received forgiveness from God. I know I did from Wendy, and we put it behind us."  The suggestion is that, if God and his wronged wife can forgive Vitter, the public should move on as well.  The senator ends with a transcendence strategy, focusing on a greater purpose which by turn makes specific misconduct appear smaller.  For example, he justifies his unwillingness to offer specifics to the press by citing "a lot of important work to do for Louisiana" on water resources, hurricane and flood protection, immigration, and transportation issues.  This "important work" is so important, in fact, that Vitter claims that from the press briefing he will "go immediately to the airport and to Washington for votes" (emphasis added).  

What doesn't work is Vitter's continued stonewalling and press criticism (attack the accuser strategy).  The senator peevishly frets:  "I'm not going to answer endless questions about it all over again and again and again and again."  See what he did there?  Vitter used "again" four times which shows he's pretty mad about all of the questions he hadn't answered yet because he was in seclusion.  And his whole "no questions" = "endless questions" move makes him look pretty unreasonable.

The most fascinating part of this apologia effort is when Vitter steps away and his wife, Wendy, takes the podium and pretty much shows up her husband.  She does a better job executing both the "private life" and attack the media strategies.  Speaking "as a mother," she chides the press for being "camped at our church--at our home, and at our church every day."  Hard not to sympathize at least a little bit.  Then Wendy goes on about how the couple dealt with this years ago, her forgiveness and love of her "best friend," and the increasing strength of their marriage.  Then, for good measure, she declares, "I'm proud to be Wendy Vitter."  Whether there were other feelings seething inside which contradicted her words, Wendy's show of support hit all the right notes and may have made it easier for the couple to escape the briefing without answering any questions while also encouraging the public to move on as well (similar to Hillary Clinton's support of her husband during the Lewinsky scandal).    

Final Call?  Speedbump.  Although Vitter got plenty of grief in the short term for his skeevy misdeeds and hypocritical posturing, he has endured.  Louisiana voters reelected him in 2010, and his marriage to Wendy is intact to this day.  Granted, the Pelican State historically boasts a high tolerance for roguish behavior in its elected officials.  Also, the Vitter scandal occasionally resurfaces in media coverage when public officials get caught consorting with courtesans, such as the recent Secret Service prostitution case, so this incident most likely will stand as the senator's most lasting political legacy.  However, Vitter remains an outspoken national lawmaker to this day.  And he should probably thank Wendy for that.

Big Ol' Jet Airliner Definitely Carried Him Too Far Away: Governor Mark Sanford's Extramarital Affair (June 24, 2009)

Another apologia from June 2009.  And this one just doesn't know when to stop.

What was the deal?  At the start of 2009, South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford enjoyed a swiftly rising reputation in national politics.  He won praise for his tough stands against government spending and was emerging as a promising presidential candidate for 2012.  On Father's Day weekend, Sanford's wife, Jenny, reported the Governor missing.  Responding to media inquiries about Sanford's whereabouts, his staff issued a statement that he was hiking on the Appalachian Trail.  Rumors surfaced, however, that Sanford was not hiking but rather was visiting a woman in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  When Sanford flew back to the United States, a reporter met him at the airport and confronted him about the allegations of an affair.  Awkward.  Sanford admitted that he had been in Buenos Aires.   Scandal, as they say, erupted and "hiking the Appalachian Trail" took on a whole new meaning.  Soon after, the Governor held a press briefing in the rotunda of the South Carolina statehouse during which he admitted having an affair with an Argentine woman.  Questions emerged immediately about whether Sanford had ended the illicit relationship, whether he lied to his staff or ordered his staff to lie about his whereabouts, and whether he would resign as Governor.  With both his national presidential prospects and governorship in serious jeopardy, Sanford used the press briefing as an opportunity to explain his actions.

How did he respond?  A transcript of the briefing, delivered three years ago today, can be found here and the video here.

How did he do?  Um, well, let's just say his approach is highly unusual.  Sanford does draw on typical apologia and image repair strategies, such as bolstering (references to attending "Christian Bible study" and being "a person of faith all [his] life"), denial (when asked if he directed his staff to help him cover up his whereabouts, the reply is a definitive "absolutely not"), and a high-concept provocation argument that the "zone of politics," whatever that is, required him to seek counsel, and apparently sex, far from the halls of Washington.  Still, these defenses stand little chance anyway, because they are not his priority in the briefing.

The Governor starts the speech in oddball fashion.  In attempting to admit that he suggested to his staff that his destination was the Appalachian Trail, Sanford spends the first few minutes discussing his trips to the trail as a high schooler, his work as an Eastern Airlines rep during college, and more vaguely described "adventure trips" throughout his early years in politics.  Other than establishing Sanford's extended career as a somewhat shady vagabond, these stories come off as a weird kind of wistful bragging.

Even his many apologies and requests for forgiveness (mortification strategy) are grating.  Sanford apologizes to everyone.  He apologizes to his wife, his four sons, and the people of South Carolina.  Okay, no problem there--that's what people want to hear.  But then he spends a looooong time apologizing to his staff, his "good friends," his father-in-law, the "people of faith across South Carolina" (just in case his apology to the entire state wasn't enough for God), and finally threatens to go "one by one and town by town...across this state...asking for their forgiveness."  Such absurdity makes one wonder if the Governor is serious about any of his contrition.

Two-thirds into his statement, Sanford finally admits his specific misbehavior:  "I have been unfaithful to my wife.  I developed a relationship with a--what started out as a dear, dear friend from Argentina.  It began very innocently, as I suspect many of these things do..."  At this point, Sanford seems to be offering a teaser of the bad romance novel going on inside his head.  Which brings us to the most critical flaw in Sanford's self-defense--he wants desperately to talk about his new girlfriend instead.  While we may tolerate this behavior for a while with our close friends, we don't really want to hear how our chosen leader and his mistress met cute during an innocent chat when Sanford tried to talk her into going back to her husband, from whom she was separated at the time, only to fall in love with that very same woman.  Wait.  Maybe this would make a good romance novel.  The Governor continued with his tale:  "About a year ago, it sparked into something more than that.  I have seen her three times since then, during that whole sparking thing."  That whole sparking thing?  Really, Governor?  I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I just can't go on with this...       

Final Call?  Sinkhole.  Oh, where to begin?  Maybe with more Steve Miller:  "I've got to go out and make my way/I might get rich you know I might get busted/But my heart keeps calling me backwards/As I get on the 707/Ridin' high I got tears in my eyes/You know you got to go through hell before you get to heaven."  In fact, if you read all the lyrics of Jet Airliner in the context of this scandal, the entire song comes across as a bizarre but prescient cautionary tale about Mark Sanford.  Theatre aficionados may be more inclined to go the Evita angle (Sanford actually admits:  "I spent the last five days of my life crying in Argentina."  And I won't even delve into the whole "adultery-on-Father's-Day" issue.

The Governor apparently thought that if he could convince the public that the relationship was more than a one-night stand, it would be more understandable.  However, trying to convince us that it's The English Patient in Dixie was probably a miscalculation.  Needless to say, the scandal did not go away; ethics charges and public ridicule dogged the Governor for some time.  Sanford did finish his term but his political future remains cloudy.