I was tempted to describe former Rep. Blake Farenthold’s latest stab at salvaging his reputation as a master class in deflection, but it’s actually too ridiculous to qualify as a master class in anything at all.
As #MeToo barreled through media and politics late last year, Politico revealed that the Texas Republican had used $84,000 of taxpayer money to settle a sexual harassment complaint. He maintained his innocence, but apologized for allowing an unprofessional workplace to take hold in his office and announced he would retire at the end of his term.
Most importantly, Farenthold committed to paying back the money, then spent the winter looking for ways to avoid making good on that commitment. Ultimately, he thought he found a way to keep his cash and resigned from office, effectively relieving himself of any remaining accountability to taxpayers. But Texas Gov. Greg Abbott wasn’t satisfied and sent Farenthold a letter last week asking him to use exactly $84,000 to cover the costs of the special election called to find his replacement.
Farenthold responded defiantly on Wednesday, writing Abbott a letter in response that should affirm to his former constituents his decision to leave Congress was the right one. The letter casts Farenthold as the victim of a “political witch hunt,” downplays the allegations against him, takes a subtle swipe at House Speaker Paul Ryan, R-Wis., and generally talks down to Abbott, accusing him of being underinformed.
Farenthold insists in the letter that he offered to settle the complaint with his own money “early in the process” but was told by House lawyers it would be “illegal and unethical” because “my paying personally to resolve a dispute that I believed was totally frivolous could have been considered a bribe to the plaintiff to drop the suit.” If that’s indeed the case, it seems odd the former congressman hasn’t been shouting it from the rooftops under all the pressure he’s faced to pay back the money.
Farenthold also cites the Office of Congressional Ethics’ conclusion from several years ago that “there is not substantial reason to believe that Representative Farenthold sexually harassed or discriminated against Complainant,” which is a perfectly fair point. But a glance at the complaint itself is enough to make one wonder how the committee arrived at that conclusion, given the specificity and detail of the allegations. They could be false, but the public has had little insight into why the committee decided as much.
And behold, the most absurd paragraph in Farenthold’s absurd letter, wherein he tries really hard to make sure it’s clear he was never accused of having “touched anyone” and then casts the very behavior he once apologized for as a strength of his anti-establishment approach to legislating:
The complaint he settled accuses Farenthold of repeatedly making graphic and personal sexual quips about a female staffer, so him insisting “there was never an instance in which I made sexual advances, requested sexual favors or engaged in physical harassment of a sexual nature” doesn’t actually rebut any of those charges, especially given how broadly the term “advances” can apply.
In announcing his retirement, Farenthold apologized for “allow[ing] a workplace culture to take root in my office that was too permissive and decidedly unprofessional.”
“It accommodated destructive gossip, offhand comments, off-color jokes … and I allowed the personal stress of the job to manifest itself in angry outbursts,” he admitted at the time.
But now that he’s out of office, it looks like Farenthold has lost his sense of remorse and is actually proud of having presided over “a more informal office than some people may have expected from a career politician.”
If, as Farenthold says, “Congress needs real people, who speak in everyday language, not political creatures trying to protect their plot within the swamp,” I would hope his definition of speaking in everyday language does not involve a congressman saying he had “wet dreams” about a young female employee or that she “could show her nipples whenever she wanted to.”
As the letter concludes, Farenthold claims Ryan asked him to resign or retire in the interest of relieving political pressure and blames “bullying from many Democrats, the press, and trolls on social media” for forcing his decision to resign rather than retire.
Lost in the entire letter is that Abbott was simply asking Farenthold to uphold a commitment he himself made by returning the settlement money to taxpayers. If he didn’t want to return the money, he shouldn’t have said he would. Whether or not it was legal for him to settle the complaint with his personal funds at the time is irrelevant given Farenthold’s decision to say he would give the money back to taxpayers last year.
He said he would do it, tried to wiggle out of the commitment, and is now casting himself as the victim of a political witch hunt orchestrated by swamp monsters thirsting for the blood of a MAGA champion.
In reality, he’s the swamp creature, a man who rode into Congress on the Tea Party wave, talked a good game about fiscal responsibility, and then put himself in a position where taxpayer funds were used in a settlement by, at best, presiding over an unprofessional workplace or, at worst, eagerly participating in it.
