The story about U.S. Rep. Mark Foley has taken an unfortunate turn. It has fallen into the abyss of partisan politics: How much did House Speaker Dennis Hastert know and when did he know it? What political fallout will the scandal have on Republican congressional prospects?
That should not be the issue here.
Partisan politics suffuses everything that happens in the U.S House of Representatives. But some events should rise above it. And one of those should be the protection of kids.
That is the essence of Foley's saga. At its core, the issue is a profound betrayal of trust. Not just the public trust but something far more profound: the kind of trust a parent lends to a teacher, a coach, a guardian, a priest.
In this case, parents entrust the lives of their children - some of the brightest, most idealistic in the country - to the most powerful leaders in the nation, the U.S. Congress.
Only to be shaken by the news that some of these leaders are out "trolling" nightclubs and bars around Capitol Hill.
According to several news sources, it was an "open secret" that Foley was one of these. He had made advances to several pages, asking them out for "ice cream" or a ride in his BMW. Certainly the pages knew and warned each other. Apparently some House members knew for months about "overly friendly" e-mails Foley had exchanged with a 16-year-old former page.
And yet {ellipsis} they protected the 52-year-old congressman, not the teenager.
It's a story about the betrayal of trust, no less heinous than what transpired for decades within the hierarchy of the Catholic Church.
There will be investigations into the actions of House leaders. And with revelations on Wednesday that former Foley aide Kirk Fordham alerted leadership three years ago to Foley's conduct, the situation gets murkier. True, the salacious text messages are the smoking gun in this case, but the less-revealing e-mails were a red flag. The page's parents obviously thought so.
In the absence of the parents, it was up to congressional leaders to protect the children in the page program. But Congress didn't. It protected its own members first, not the children.
And that remains the story.
That should not be the issue here.
Partisan politics suffuses everything that happens in the U.S House of Representatives. But some events should rise above it. And one of those should be the protection of kids.
That is the essence of Foley's saga. At its core, the issue is a profound betrayal of trust. Not just the public trust but something far more profound: the kind of trust a parent lends to a teacher, a coach, a guardian, a priest.
In this case, parents entrust the lives of their children - some of the brightest, most idealistic in the country - to the most powerful leaders in the nation, the U.S. Congress.
Only to be shaken by the news that some of these leaders are out "trolling" nightclubs and bars around Capitol Hill.
According to several news sources, it was an "open secret" that Foley was one of these. He had made advances to several pages, asking them out for "ice cream" or a ride in his BMW. Certainly the pages knew and warned each other. Apparently some House members knew for months about "overly friendly" e-mails Foley had exchanged with a 16-year-old former page.
And yet {ellipsis} they protected the 52-year-old congressman, not the teenager.
It's a story about the betrayal of trust, no less heinous than what transpired for decades within the hierarchy of the Catholic Church.
There will be investigations into the actions of House leaders. And with revelations on Wednesday that former Foley aide Kirk Fordham alerted leadership three years ago to Foley's conduct, the situation gets murkier. True, the salacious text messages are the smoking gun in this case, but the less-revealing e-mails were a red flag. The page's parents obviously thought so.
In the absence of the parents, it was up to congressional leaders to protect the children in the page program. But Congress didn't. It protected its own members first, not the children.
And that remains the story.
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