The Libby lobby's pardon campaign

Having never expressed remorse for his crime, Scooter Libby instead enlisted his neoconservative friends to win him reduced prison time.

By Sidney Blumenthal

Read more: Politics, Sidney Blumenthal, Saddam Hussein, CIA, Colin Powell, Opinion, Dick Cheney, Judith Miller, Valerie Plame, Scooter Libby

June 7, 2007 | Those who served most closely with him described their feelings with persuasive intensity. One after another they used the same words: "Raymond Shaw is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I've ever known in my life." Gradually, however, Major Ben Marco breaks through his brainwashing to discover that Raymond Shaw is a sleeper agent programmed to install the Manchurian candidate as president.

One after another, in nearly the same language, in letters that Gen. Peter Pace, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff acknowledged had been prompted by I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby, in his attempt to mitigate a harsh sentence for his conviction for perjury and obstruction of justice, dozens of people described the former chief of staff to the vice president with the warmest feelings.

"I know Mr. Libby to be a patriot, a dedicated public servant, a strong family man, and a tireless, honorable, selfless human being," wrote Donald Rumsfeld, the former secretary of defense.

"Mr. Libby was one of the most dedicated public servants I have known in my career," wrote Eric Edelman, the undersecretary of defense for policy.

"I can say, without hesitation, that Scooter was among the finest and most selfless public officials with whom I have ever worked," wrote John Hannah, Vice President Cheney's national security advisor.

"Scooter Libby is one of the most genuine, kind, hardworking and patriotic people I know," wrote Elizabeth Denny, Cheney's social secretary.

One after another, the letter writers declare that Libby's "character" is "inconsistent" with the jury's verdict. These same words -- "character" and "inconsistent" -- appear dozens of times.

"The Scooter Libby I have known for a number of years now is someone about whom such crimes as perjury and obstruction of justice seem as improbable to me as life on Mars," wrote Midge Decter, the neoconservative writer. Her husband, Norman Podhoretz, the neoconservative editor emeritus of Commentary magazine, wrote: "Like everyone else who knows him, I find it inconceivable that a man of his sterling character, who is also famous for his lawyerly scrupulousness, could deliberately have told lies to a grand jury, or for that matter to anyone else." (Decter and Podhoretz's son-in-law, Elliott Abrams, convicted of lying to Congress in the Iran-Contra scandal and subsequently pardoned, is a deputy national security advisor.)

Unmoved by these letters, Judge Reggie Walton imposed a sentence of two and a half years and a $250,000 fine, and told Libby, "Your lies blocked an extremely serious investigation, and as a result you will indeed go to prison." Almost immediately, Cheney praised Libby's "personal integrity," and added his wish that the sentence will be overturned on appeal: "Speaking as friends, we hope that our system will return a final result consistent with what we know of this fine man." Thus, Cheney encouraged his former chief of staff to maintain his steadfast refusal to implicate his former boss in the crimes Libby felt compelled to cover up with his lies to the grand jury.

To be sure, others convicted of crimes often submit similar testimonials before sentencing. But most of those who throw themselves on the mercy of the court express sorrow at what they have done. Libby, however, refused to show remorse. He offered no contrition, only an exercise in victimhood. Like the child who has killed his parents and demands mercy for being an orphan, Libby tried to murder the truth and then got dozens of people to plead for leniency based on his good character.

The act of procuring these letters is further evidence of Libby's stove-piping of disinformation. Libby could not reasonably have expected to sway the judge, but there is a higher authority to which he is appealing. These letters constitute the beginnings of the Libby Lobby's pardon campaign.

Ironically, the longest, most detailed and among the most personal letters supporting Libby is also the most damaging. In "Re: Character Reference for I. Lewis Libby," Paul Wolfowitz writes, "I am currently serving, until June 30 of this year, as President of the World Bank." Either obtusely or obliquely, Wolfowitz's opening line emphasizes the symbiotic nature of their careers, both men having fallen from grace within weeks of each other after years of collaboration. "It is painful for me to reflect on the fact that his life would have been very different if we had never met. He would almost certainly now be a successful attorney in Philadelphia." Wolfowitz describes their 35-year association, going back to when he was an assistant professor at Yale and Libby was his assistant, and how he recruited Libby to serve as his assistant in the State Department and then in the Defense Department. According to Wolfowitz's account, Libby was an indispensable man in ending the Cold War, winning the Gulf War and waging the "global war on terror." But he was also, Wolfowitz writes, of "service to individuals."

The leading example he offers is a stunning revelation, which does not reflect on Libby's charity, compassion and sympathy as Wolfowitz might imagine. The story about Libby "involves his effort to persuade a newspaper not to publish information that would have endangered the life of a covert CIA agent working overseas. Late into the evening, long after most others had left the matter to be dealt with the next day, Mr. Libby worked to collect the information that was needed to persuade the editor not to run the story."

Next page: Wolfowitz's defense of Libby is composed with the same care and skill that Wolfowitz brought to the invasion of Iraq