Donald Trump likes to tell his supporters that he’s a fighter, a fearless champion who always has their back. Such guarantees, however, apparently do not apply to people who worked for him when they’re threatened by foreign assassins. Former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley, former National Security Adviser John Bolton, former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, and the former Pompeo aide Brian Hook have all been targeted by Trump for political retribution. They are also being targeted by the Iranians, but the regime in Tehran has marked them all for death.

The president may be spoiling for a fight with career bureaucrats and “woke” professors, but when it comes to Iranian assassins, he is willing to walk away from men who carried out his orders. Milley, Bolton, Pompeo, and Hook all served in Trump’s first administration—he appointed them to their posts—and they were part of the Trump national-security team when the United States killed Iranian General Qassem Soleimani in a strike in January 2020. In 2022, an Iranian national was arrested and charged with trying to arrange Bolton’s murder, and American intelligence believes that other officials—including Trump himself—have been targeted by Iran because of their involvement in killing Soleimani.

The Biden administration briefed the incoming Trump administration on these threats and on the security details it had authorized to protect Bolton and others. Last week, Trump removed the details protecting Bolton, Pompeo, and Hook; yesterday, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth removed the guards around Milley and announced that he would be investigating Milley for undermining the chain of command during Trump’s first term. Trump also revoked the security clearances held by all four men.

[From the November 2023 issue: The patriot]

The revocation of security clearances is petty, but it harms the administration more than it does any of these men. Retaining a clearance helps former federal employees find work in the consulting world, and it is typical to hold on to them after leaving government service. (I was offered the opportunity to keep mine when I left the Naval War College.) But at more senior levels, clearances allow people in government to get advice from former leaders. Some of these people could have been of significant help to Trump’s staff during a crisis, although Trump himself is unlikely to care about that possibility.

Removing the security details, however, could have deadly consequences. The Iranians seem determined to seek revenge for the killing of Soleimani, and sooner or later, they might succeed. (“The Iranians are not good but they’re very enthusiastic,” a former Pentagon official said in October. “And of course, they’ve only got to get lucky once.”) And the Iranians aren’t the only threat out there; the Russians have no compunctions about attacking people in their home country, often using gruesome methods.

Trump takes such threats very seriously where he is concerned. When Biden officials alerted Trump to the danger from Iran, Trump asked for more security from the U.S. government, and during his campaign, according to The New York Times, he even asked that military assets be assigned to protect him, something usually provided only to sitting presidents.

Lesser mortals, however, must fend for themselves: Trump and Hegseth not only took away the security details of these former policy makers but did so with significant publicity, almost as if to broadcast to America’s enemies that anyone who wanted to settle scores with these officials would get no trouble from the current White House. (Trump also canceled protection for 84-year-old Anthony Fauci, the former director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, who has been the target of multiple threats from other Americans.) Trump despises critics such as Bolton and Milley, and it is unsurprising that he has no obvious issue subjecting them to physical danger. But even some Republicans —who should be used to this kind of vengefulness from the leader of their party—have been shocked, and are trying to get Trump to reverse course. They are particularly concerned about Pompeo and Hook, loyalists whose lives have been placed in jeopardy for sins that are known only to the president.

[Read: Trump can’t escape the laws of political gravity]

In another time, Americans would rally to protect their own from the agents of one of their most dedicated enemies. Today, most citizens seem either unaware or unperturbed that the president of the United States is exposing his own former staff to immense risks. Nevertheless, it should be said clearly and without equivocation: President Trump will bear direct responsibility for any harm that could come to these people from foreign actors.

This is far more than Trump’s usual pettiness. He has always considered the oath of federal service to be little more than an oath of loyalty to him, and he has always been willing to threaten his opponents. (In 2018, he apparently considered handing Michael McFaul, the former U.S. ambassador to Russia, over to Moscow, a move that provoked a level of outrage that seems quaint today.) Trump’s message in this second term is that friends and subordinates are literally disposable if they cross him: He will not only humiliate and fire them, but he will also subject them to actual physical danger.

This escalation of Trump’s vindictiveness should serve as a very personal warning to anyone willing to work for him in his second term. Senior officials at the Pentagon, the State Department, the CIA, the National Security Council, and other organizations are routinely asked to go head-to-head with representatives of some of the most dangerous nations on the planet, and to contribute to operations against those regimes. In the past, such officials could do so knowing that their own government would do everything it could to keep them—and their family—safe from foreign agents. As one of Bolton’s former deputies, Charles Kupperman, told the Times: “Trump’s national security team must provide guidance based on their assessment of what needs to be done to protect America without regard to their personal security.”

Good luck with that. No one who works in defense or national-security affairs can assume that, when Trump orders them to cross America’s many enemies in the world, he will protect them from foreign vengeance. Trump has now made clear that he will abandon people who have taken risks in the service of the United States—even those who were following his own orders—if they happen to displease him. (Or, in the case of Pompeo and Hook, for no apparent reason at all.) Hegseth, for his part, may have no real idea what he’s done, and may merely be courting favor from a boss who has elevated him far beyond his abilities. But Trump knows better; he is himself the survivor of an assassination attempt, and no level of security was enough when he thought the Iranians were gunning for him.

People still considering whether to serve Trump can have no illusions about what awaits them. True leaders take responsibility for their team. Trump is no such leader; he will, on a whim, place other Americans in danger and then, as he famously put it in his previous term, take no responsibility at all.

The secret transportation of thousands of Ethiopian Jews to Israel in the 1980s by the Mossad and the CIA.

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Shortly after taking the oath of office, President Donald Trump signed an executive order revoking the security clearances of about four dozen former national-security officials. Their offense was that in 2020, they had signed an open letter suggesting that the publication of emails found on a laptop purportedly belonging to Joe Biden’s son Hunter might be the result of a Russian-government operation designed to “influence how Americans vote in this election.”

You may remember the letter, but if not, you should reacquaint yourself with this episode, which remains a fixation of the president and many of his supporters. The Hunter Biden laptop letter inspired the executive order that is Trump’s first shot in a war he has long promised against the “deep state”—that collection of CIA officers, FBI agents, and other career bureaucrats who he believes have conspired against him for nearly a decade. The order accuses 51 former officials, by name, of “election interference,” potentially a serious crime.

Here’s why this is so disturbing: If those people can be targeted simply for exercising their free-speech rights, then conceivably so can you if you stake a political sign in your front yard, slap a bumper sticker on your car, or try to persuade people on social media to vote for your candidate of choice.

The emails first came to public attention in an article published in the New York Post in October 2020, a few weeks before the presidential election. The story implicated Joe Biden in his son’s business dealings in Ukraine, a subject of intense interest among Trump’s allies, including the president’s personal lawyer, former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani. The ex-mayor gave the Post a copy of a laptop hard drive that he had obtained through a repair-shop owner, the newspaper reported, and that purportedly contained Hunter Biden’s emails.

[Read: Trump’s ‘secretary of retribution’]

In response, the 51 former officials signed a letter asserting that “the arrival on the US political scene of emails purportedly belonging to Vice President Biden’s son Hunter … has all the classic earmarks of a Russian information operation.” Mind you, the signatories offered no evidence of a hidden Russian hand in all of this. They supplied no digital trails leading to Russian spies, no confidential sources claiming a connection. And they were up-front about this: “We want to emphasize that we do not know if the emails … are genuine or not and that we do not have evidence of Russian involvement—just that our experience makes us deeply suspicious that the Russian government played a significant role in this case.”

That’s it. They were suspicious. Maybe with good reason. At the time, current officials, with access to classified information, believed that Russian intelligence operatives were trying to feed misinformation about the Bidens to Giuliani, as my colleagues at The Washington Post and I reported at the time. The signatories argued that, based on their long experience doing battle with Russia in the arena of international espionage, people should take their suspicions seriously.

If this all sounds like what op-ed writers or self-professed experts on social media or talking heads on TV routinely do, that’s because it is. Indeed, several of the signatories were regular “Never Trump” commentators on cable talk shows, political podcasts, and Twitter. The letter contains no classified information; the CIA made sure of that when it reviewed the text, as the agency routinely does when former officials write books or articles or make speeches. The letter represented nothing more or less than the collective opinion of people with more knowledge about Russia than the average person, alerting the public to what they considered a legitimate cause for concern.

But they were wrong. Embarrassingly wrong. The emails really did turn out to belong to Hunter Biden, and they raised legitimate concerns that he was trying to profit from his father’s political position. No evidence ever surfaced that Russia had played a role in bringing the emails to light. Intelligence experts sometimes make bad calls. This was one of those times.

Trump’s order, which uses turns of phrase he deployed on the campaign trail, says that the signatories tried to “suppress information essential to the American people,” in what he called “an egregious breach of trust reminiscent of a third world country.” Although the signatories clearly wanted to counter the claims that Trump’s allies were making about Biden and his son, no evidence suggests that they were trying to suppress anything. They appear to have sincerely believed that Russia might be behind the story.

Some of the signatories still defend their work by noting, correctly, that they said the emails might be part of some Russian trick, not that they definitely were. That too-cute defense does not absolve them of bad judgment.

But the Constitution protects their right to be wrong. The signatories are free to advertise themselves as experts, and when their analysis turns out to be off base, they have to suffer the reputational consequences. TV producers might not ask them to appear on their shows. The public might not take them seriously the next time they yell “Russia!” But they should not expect to end up called out in a presidential order accusing them of potentially criminal acts.

“It would be contrary to decades of national security norms to suspend the security clearances of individuals who did nothing other than, as private citizens, exercise their protected First Amendment rights,” Mark S. Zaid, a lawyer representing some of the signatories, told me in a written statement. “It is also quite ironic that at the same time this Executive Order is issued, the White House claims it supports the restoration of freedom of speech and seeks to end federal censorship.”

[Read: Trump’s ‘deep state’ revenge]

This is where I have to disclose some pertinent facts. I read this letter before it was published, because the people involved in writing it offered it to me exclusively in the course of my reporting on Russian intelligence activities for The Washington Post. I later learned, thanks to a congressional investigation, that the Biden campaign had wanted me to have this letter before any other journalist, for reasons that I still don’t completely understand but probably have to do with my long history of reporting on intelligence matters. I decided not to write about the letter, because I didn’t find it newsworthy. The authors had no evidence to back up their claims. It was merely their opinion that Russia might be up to some shenanigans. And in 2020, that opinion was not exactly novel. The people coordinating the letter ultimately found another publication that wanted to write about it.

I also know many of the signatories. I have quoted several of them in news articles over my two-decade career. But I never saw the letter before these people signed it, and none of them asked me to write about it or pressured me to do so. Some of them would prefer that I forget the whole episode and not renew attention to it.

The punitive measure Trump has directed isn’t trivial. An active security clearance is a requisite for employment in some companies or organizations, and rescinding it could materially affect some of the signatories’ livelihoods. The order also damages their reputations, beyond any hit they may have taken after they released the letter. And it imperils their safety. Since Trump issued the order on Tuesday, one of the signatories told me that he has received online threats. And a retired Green Beret who bills himself as Trump’s “secretary of retribution,” posted on X calling for “Live-Streamed Swatting Raids” against the signatories, referring to the illegal practice of falsely reporting an emergency in order to summon armed law enforcement to someone’s home. You don’t have to feel sorry for these people to appreciate the broader implications of Trump’s order and what he might inspire his followers to do.

Maybe you could chalk up all of this to bare-knuckle politics. Trump’s order is a predictable form of payback. The claim that the former officials “coordinated with the Biden campaign” to write the letter, in order to discredit the New York Post’s reporting, has some truth to it. The congressional investigation into the letter established, based on emails, text messages, and interviews with the people who orchestrated its writing and release, that the idea got rolling after Antony Blinken, then a Biden campaign adviser, asked Michael Morell, a former senior CIA official who was on the shortlist to run the spy agency in a Biden administration, about the Post report. Morell testified to congressional investigators that the letter was intended to give Biden a “talking point” if Trump tried to use the laptop story to attack the vice president. The signatories certainly knew that, or should have, because this was spelled out in emails asking them to put their names on the document.

But how is that “election interference”? The executive order doesn’t say. You can argue that former intelligence officials should stay out of politics, because they spent their careers in a profession that prides itself on being apolitical. But nothing about writing a letter is illegal, or even all that inappropriate. And being motivated by a desire to help one’s preferred candidate win doesn’t preclude a genuine suspicion that a hostile government might be trying to stop him.

[Nicholas Florko: There really is a deep state]

Well before Trump issued his order, some of the signatories privately told me that they wished they’d never participated in the first place. They stand by what the document narrowly says, but they recognize that it has done more harm than good and handed Trump an easy cudgel to use against opponents, real or imagined.

The order doesn’t just target the signers. It instructs the director of national intelligence, in consultation with the director of the CIA, to report to the president “any additional inappropriate activity that occurred within the Intelligence Community, by anyone contracted by the Intelligence Community or by anyone who held a security clearance” in the writing and publication of the letter.

That’s potentially a lot more people, and a longer story. But for now, just know that Trump remembers who dared to speak out, even mildly, against him.

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The aged president of the United States and the young midwestern senator he’d chosen as his second-term running mate were having a private, late-night discussion. The commander in chief wanted to share his plan to make America greater than it’s ever been. He flung an arm toward one end of the room as he explained the most audacious idea in the history of the republic.

“Canada! Canada!”

The senator, a veteran of America’s most recent war, was dumbfounded. “A union with Canada?” he asked.

“Right. A union with Canada. … Canada is the wealthiest nation on earth … Canada will be the seat of power in the next century and, properly exploited and conserved, her riches can go on for a thousand years.”

Not only did the president want to annex Canada, but he then declared the need to bring Scandinavia—with populations ostensibly blessed by genetics—into a new Atlantic union. “Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Finland, to be specific. They will bring us the character and the discipline we so sadly lack. I know these people … I’m of German extraction, but many generations ago my people were Swedes who emigrated to Germany.”

Other NATO members would be frozen out, especially Great Britain, France, and Germany, nations the president believed had faded as world powers. He assured his running mate that eventually they would become part of the new union one way or another—even if that meant using force against former American allies to compel their submission to his plans for greatness. “Force?” the incredulous young senator asked. “You mean military force, Mr. President?”

“Yes, force,” the president said. “Only if necessary, and I doubt it ever would be. There are other kinds of pressure,” the president continued, “trade duties and barriers, financial measures, economic sanctions if you will.” In the short term, however, the president’s first move would be to meet with the Russians—and to propose a nuclear alliance against China.

These exchanges are—believe it or not—the plot of a 1965 political thriller, a book titled Night of Camp David.

The author Fletcher Knebel (who also co-wrote the more widely known Seven Days in May) came up with these plans as evidence that a fictional president named Mark Hollenbach has gone insane. In the story, a crisis unfolds as the young senator, Jim MacVeagh, realizes that Hollenbach has told no one else of his scheme. He races to alert other members of the government to the president’s madness before the potentially disastrous summit with the Kremlin.

Such ideas—including a messianic president talking about attacking other NATO members—were in 1965 perhaps too unnerving for Hollywood. Unlike Seven Days in May, a book about a military coup in the United States that was made into a well-regarded film starring Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas, Night of Camp David was never made into a movie despite decent reviews and more than four months on the New York Times best-seller list. In fairness, the market was glutted with such thrillers in the mid-’60s, but perhaps the idea was too disturbing even for Cold War America.

And now, 60 years later, Donald Trump—an elderly president with a young midwesterner as his vice president—is saying things that make him sound much like Mark Hollenbach. He, too, has proposed annexing Canada; he, too, has suggested that he would use coercion against U.S. friends and allies, including Panama and Denmark. He, too, seems to believe that some groups bring better genes to America than others. Like Hollenbach, he dreams of a giant Atlantic empire and seeks the kind of accommodation with Russia that would facilitate an exit from our traditional alliances, especially NATO.

One of the most important differences between the novel and real life is that until the titular night at Camp David, Hollenbach is a highly intelligent and decent man, a president respected by both parties after a successful first term. His new plans (which, in another moment of life imitating art, also include unleashing the FBI on America’s domestic “enemies”) are wildly out of character for him, and in the end, MacVeagh finally manages to convince the Cabinet that the president is suffering from a sudden illness, perhaps dementia, a nervous breakdown, or the onset of paranoia.

Trump, however, has always talked like this. He is regularly caught up in narcissistic and childlike flights of grandeur; he routinely lapses into fits of self-pitying grievance; he thinks himself besieged by enemies; and he talks about international affairs as if he is playing a giant game of Risk. (In the novel, MacVeagh at one point muses that the president’s “once brilliant mind now was obsessed with fancied tormentors and played like a child’s with the toy blocks of destiny.”) Whatever one thinks of the 47th president, he is today who he has always been.

I am not a doctor, and I am not diagnosing Trump. I’m also not the first one to notice the similarities between the fictional Hollenbach and Trump: The book was name-checked by Bob Woodward, Michael Beschloss, and Rachel Maddow during Trump’s first term, and then reissued in 2018 because of a resurgence of interest in its plot. Rumors that the United 93 director, Paul Greengrass, wanted to make a movie version circulated briefly in 2021, but the project is now likely languishing in development hell.

In any event, rereading Night of Camp David today raises fewer disturbing questions about Trump than it does about America. How did the United States, as a nation, travel the distance from 1965—when the things Trump says would have been considered signs of a mental or emotional disorder—to 2025, where Americans and their elected officials merely shrug at a babbling chief executive who talks repeatedly and openly about annexing Canada? Where is the Jim MacVeagh who would risk everything in his life to oppose such things? (I’ve read the book, and let me tell you, Vice President J. D. Vance is no Jim MacVeagh.)

The saddest part of revisiting the book now is how quaint it feels to read about the rest of the American government trying hard to do the right thing. When others in Congress and the Cabinet finally realize that Hollenbach is ill, they put their careers on the line to avert disaster. At the book’s conclusion, Hollenbach, aware that something’s wrong with him, agrees to give up the presidency. He resigns after agreeing to a cover story about having a serious heart condition, and the whole matter is hushed up.

Perhaps such happy endings are why some thrillers are comforting to read: Fear ends up giving way to reassurance. Unfortunately, in the real world, the GOP is not responding to Trump’s bizarre foreign-policy rants by rallying to the defense of America’s alliances and its national values as the leader of the free world. Instead, Republican members of the United States Senate are seeing how fast they can ram through the nomination of an unqualified talk-show host as secretary of defense.

In 2018, Knebel’s son was asked what his father would have thought about the renewed interest in the book. The younger Knebel answered: “He’d say, yeah, this is just what I was afraid of.” But at least Mark Hollenbach only dared whisper such ideas in the dark. Donald Trump says them, over and over, in broad daylight.

Related:

Emperor Trump’s new map The political logic of Trump’s international threats

Here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

MAGA is starting to crack. Turns out signing the Hunter Biden letter was a bad idea, Graeme Wood writes. Capitulation is contagious.

Today’s News

A federal judge temporarily blocked Donald Trump’s executive order ending birthright citizenship, calling it “blatantly unconstitutional.” Trump told the countries attending the World Economic Forum that if they don’t make their products in America, they will face a tariff. The Senate voted to confirm John Ratcliffe as the new director of the CIA.

Dispatches

Time-Travel Thursdays: Stephanie Bai spoke with Russell Berman about the last president to lose, then win, a reelection bid.

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Evening Read

America Is Divided. It Makes for Tremendous Content.

By Spencer Kornhaber

Amid the madness and tension of the most recent presidential-election campaign, a wild form of clickbait video started flying around the political internet. The titles described debates with preposterous numerical twists, such as “Can 1 Woke Teen Survive 20 Trump Supporters?” and “60 Republicans vs Democrats Debate the 2024 Election.” Fiery tidbits went viral: a trans man yelling at the conservative pundit Ben Shapiro for a full four minutes; Pete Buttigieg trying to calm an undecided voter seething with rage at the Democrats. These weren’t typical TV-news shouting matches, with commentators in suits mugging to cameras. People were staring into each other’s eyes, speaking spontaneously, litigating national divisions in a manner that looked like a support group and felt like The Jerry Springer Show.

Read the full article.

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On Monday, in one of his first acts as president, Donald Trump defrocked 50 high priests of U.S. national security. Now deprived of their clearances, if they want to know what’s happening in the world, they are reduced, like the rest of us, to reading the newspaper, and waiting for the president to blurt out nuclear codes over brunch at Mar-a-Lago. Once out of government, these former officials usually keep their clearances so they can return to government, or to civilian contracting work that involves government secrets, without friction, and so they can learn secrets and give advice informally. Removing these clearances is petty and personal. But it is Trump’s decision to make, and in a week of wacky and unexpected executive orders, it is one of the easier to defend.

The order singled out former Trump National Security Adviser John Bolton for special dishonor. Trump accused Bolton of making money by publishing a memoir “for monetary gain” before the intelligence community could scrub his text of classified material. In a separate and remarkably spiteful action, Trump rescinded Secret Service protection for Bolton, former Trump State department official Brian Hook, and former Secretary of State and CIA director, Michael Pompeo. The FBI has accused Iran of trying to kill all three men. Trump often expresses his distaste for those who tried to give direction and discipline to his first term. It is nonetheless shocking to see him come to power and, as one of his first acts, ensure that if Iranian assassins wish to take out his former advisers, they’ll soon have a cleaner shot. Americans who work in national security assume that the government will protect them against vengeance from terrorists, no matter what. They now have reason to believe that this protection is a conditional perk, like a nice parking space, that can be taken away for talking smack on CNN.

Bolton bemoans the removal of his protection detail. Because he is not a dummy or a hypocrite, however, he has not questioned Trump’s ability to take away his clearance. A clearance, unlike the ability to live without fear of assassination, really is the president’s to grant or withdraw at will. The first conversation I ever had with Bolton (whom I profiled for this magazine in 2019) was 18 years ago, about the awesome power of the president to classify, declassify, and determine who can read classified material. This power is almost without limit, Bolton said. (The president cannot declassify certain information about nuclear weapons. Other than that, the power is his.) The president then was George W. Bush, and Bolton, fresh from service as Bush’s ambassador to the United Nations, vigorously defended the expansiveness of his old boss’s powers.

[Read: John Bolton will hold this grudge]

Trump is miffed at Bolton for going on cable news to call Trump an idiot. The suggestion that Bolton’s memoir is, as Trump claims, “rife with sensitive information” is both hypocritical, given Trump’s own irresponsible information-security practices, and hard to believe, given the fact that in the four years since it was published, no one has suggested that any specific revelations have compromised national security. The real victim was Trump’s ego. Bolton did, however, publish before getting permission to do so, and anyone who has had a security clearance knows that dodging the review is a violation not just of the letter of one’s clearance conditions but also of the norms and instincts inculcated by the culture of national security. If Bolton expected to keep his clearance after that, then maybe he is a dummy after all.

The other 49 laicized national-security officials had signed an open letter (always a bad idea) that declared in 2020, right before the presidential election, that the now mostly confirmed story of Hunter Biden’s laptop had “all the classic earmarks of a Russian information operation.” A computer technician in Delaware said that Hunter had dropped off the laptop for repair at his computer shop in 2019. Hunter never retrieved it. It contained images of him in states of undress, apparently doped up, and in acts of sexual congress. The contents were so sleazy that even if the laptop were a Russian hoax, which it was not, the hard drives should have been power-washed, submerged in isopropyl alcohol, and thrown into an active volcano purely as a sanitary measure. The former president’s son also appeared in emails to be seeking to profit off his father’s office. The evidence for corruption never amounted to enough for a charge to stick. But because no one could figure out any other reason a Ukrainian oil company would want Hunter on their board, the suggestion of influence peddling seemed plausible.

The intelligence professionals who signed the letter (which was drafted by former CIA Acting Director Michael Morrell) warned readers that they did not know whether the laptop’s contents were “genuine or not,” and said they had no “evidence of Russian involvement,” only suspicions. The signatories included former directors of the NSA, CIA, and the Office of National Intelligence, and many others with long and distinguished service to the United States. These figures provided intelligence and analysis to presidents, generals, congressmen, and others. The core of their job—the reason anyone listens to them—is devotion to an almost priestly ethos of analytical rigor. They speak only after marshaling all available resources to find all the facts that can be known; they deliver briefings based on everything they know—not just the facts they like—and without political tilt or opinion. The public never gets classified briefings. Those who have clearance to get them are meant to be confident that when the briefers speak, they speak with authority, clarity, and dispassion. The experience should be like listening to a great trial lawyer. You should wonder why anyone would bother disagreeing.

[Read: Why Hunter Biden’s laptop will never go away]

Why these titans of intelligence were willing to risk their hard-won credibility on the possibility that Hunter Biden might not be a slimeball is deeply mysterious. Even considering their caveats, somehow they signed and published their letter without due diligence and without the slightest consideration that Hunter was, in fact, prone to shady behavior. No doubt they felt that the laptop story was urgent, because it could affect the election in a few weeks. But their job was to seek facts and judge them with restraint. In this case, minimal fact-seeking would entail asking the Bidens if the sordid laptop was real, and restraint would entail not venturing wild accusations. The letter does not suggest that the authors asked the Bidens—although they certainly could have, since (according to a 2023 House Intelligence report) the letter originated with a call to them from Antony Blinken, then a Biden-campaign official and later secretary of state. Did the Biden team lie about the laptop, or claim Hunter had no memory of it? Or did the authors never even bother to inquire if it belonged to Hunter? In either case, the letter exhibited extremely shoddy analytic craftsmanship. Some signers of the letter had access to classified briefings, and could have asked their old colleagues in the intelligence community whether the laptop was a Russian hoax. In 2023, House investigators asked James Clapper, the former director of national intelligence and one of the drafters of the letter, why he did not ask for a briefing. “Because I didn’t want to be tainted by access to classified information,” he told them.

That won’t be a problem anymore. Because they were excessively generous to one candidate over the other, the letter signers left the impression that they were on the Democratic team—and, moreover, that they would lower their standards in order to influence an American election. Connoisseurs of irony will note that the CIA has, historically, had few scruples about influencing foreign elections, and will ask why they would hesitate to influence an American one. But to influence even a foreign election takes approval from the White House, and to influence a domestic one is flagrantly illegal. Like Bolton, these signers should have known that they were violating a deeply ingrained taboo. If they did not know that Trump, a man too petty and unrestrained to realize that vindictiveness is a sign of weakness, would punish them as soon as he could, then they too are not as intelligent as I thought.