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The saga of freshly installed New York congressman George Santos invites broad debate over one central question: what price should politicians pay for lying?
The question is short but not simple. A sarcastic retort almost writes itself, to the effect that if lying is universally disqualifying, Congress would be able to meet inside a midsize car. But any serious analysis requires the answers to several questions. What kind of lies? When were they told? For what purpose? Has the offender shown remorse? Is that remorse credible? And once the gravity of the offense has been weighed, what is the proper consequence?
A chorus of competing agendas obscures those answers in the case of Santos, the 34-year-old Republican whose eight-point win returned his New York district to the GOP after 10 years of Democratic representatives. This is one of the wins credited to the appeal of Lee Zeldin, whose unsuccessful but competitive run for New York governor aided Republican turnout. The Santos win was an eyebrow-raiser in a district that voted for Obama twice and Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden by comfortable margins.
Lately, eyebrows are raising for another reason—the litany of lies recited by Santos during his campaign.
He claims Ukrainian Jewish grandparents who fled the Holocaust. Genealogical records and other evidence place his ancestors in Brazil for at least three generations.
He painted himself as a "seasoned Wall Street financier and investor," with a résumé including Citigroup and Goldman Sachs, neither of which have any record of employing him.
His financial disclosures claimed ownership of a thriving multi-million-dollar consulting firm that appears to be largely fictitious.
During his previous campaign for the seat, which ended in a 12-point loss in 2020, Santos had described receiving radiation treatments as part of a brain cancer battle. As scrutiny tightened around virtually everything he has ever said, requests for medical details have gone unanswered.
There's more, but the picture is complete enough. It reveals a craven opportunist portraying himself in sympathetic ways to boost his chances for electoral success. And he won. So what is to be done about that?
Calls for Santos to resign can be heard from diverse corners. Naturally, many are from Democrats, but even the Nassau County Republican Party has called for him to step down. While it appears he has no intention of doing so, he has made himself available for some calculated moments of televised contrition.
The new representative received some of the harshest questioning on Tucker Carlson's show late last month. Ex-Democrat Tulsi Gabbard, then guest hosting the show, asked him flat out: "Do you have no shame?" His awkward replies made references to mistakes and embellishments and apologies for both, but is that enough?
Answers will obviously differ. Democrats will continue to call for Santos' head, but what is the range of reaction among Republicans, especially those who voted for him? They have to know that a resignation would throw open a special election, as soon as April. Political analysts still map the district as leaning Democratic. The House of Representatives margin is already narrow enough; do Republicans have a duty to call for his exit?
They do not. The arguments against his resignation are compelling and non-partisan. I would be willing to accept them even if a Democrat had sullied himself in this fashion.
First, it is impossible to know how many Santos voters are so thoroughly repelled that they wish for him to pack up his stuff in the Longworth House Office Building and slink off into obscurity. Maybe it's a majority; maybe it's relatively few. If he quits, only his detractors win.
Santos' continued service is hardly a comfortable win for his "supporters," if that's even the right word. Any sensible citizen would be repulsed by his transgressions, but Republican voters who sought a Republican representative are entitled to get one, even if he's flawed.
If the Republican base in the district hungers sufficiently for a representative with a less tainted history, it may elevate any number of opponents in the primary campaigns which will take shape in just a few months. That's the thing about a two-year term; you're always running.
And in Santos' case, he may be running for his electoral life. His apologies may be accepted by some and rejected by others, but his sincerity can be judged against the backdrop of his service as a congressman for a chunk of Long Island and a small patch of Queens.
One of two outcomes awaits him. Either his voting record and demeanor will outweigh the tall tales, or they will not. Voters—not congressional colleagues, TV pundits, newspapers or even his own suddenly hostile hometown GOP leadership—will make that call.
Fresh from his own speaker struggle, Kevin McCarthy weighed in with precisely the right take. "The voters elected him to serve," he told reporters this week, adding that any objectively disqualifying charges can always take shape in the House Ethics Committee.
The quality of Santos' service will inform the decisions of the people he represents. They are the ones to determine his fate.
Mark Davis is a talk show host for the Salem Media Group on 660AM The Answer in Dallas-Ft. Worth, and a columnist for the Dallas Morning News and Townhall.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
