Philip Elliott
At times, the conversation sounded an awful lot like hostages recounting their monthslong trauma. Their opinions were unlikely to be heeded, and rarely solicited. There was little they could do to change the conditions, so they made the best of the moment. It sounded like a day-by-day strategy of survival, one borne of necessity and endured with unenviable grit.
The people recounting their months of powerless standing were the very top aides to the current President, and his predecessor, who is soon to also be his successor. And, with an unnerving consistency, it sounded at times as if they were all completely overtaken by two aged nominees who had zero interest in hearing from the very operatives tasked with running their billion-dollar campaigns. These were some of the sharpest taskmasters in the business who seemed sidelined by circumstance. It was in many ways the distillation of a campaign cycle that left even the most plugged-in politico feeling deflated.
Listening this month at Harvard to the top aides to these two temperamentally distinct Presidents recount their experiences —part of the Kennedy School of Government’s tradition of oral histories for those in the rooms where decisions are made—it struck me: maybe these two insular, self-confident men are in some ways mirrored images of each other. That professed confidence in each’s own instincts and indifference to most dissident opinions is how both led the country and made some pretty colossal missteps. Another trait they may also share? A deep insecurity that masks itself with action.
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