The major questions surrounding Weinergate are:  How did he not know that nudie pics sent over the internet would get out? How could he possibly believe that he could keep his flirtations secret?  Well, I actually know the answer.  The answer is: Capitol Hill.

In the spirit of coming clean, I too have a confession to make.  I, The Alternative Feminist, once worked on Capitol Hill.  And the harsh lessons I learned on “The Hill” seemed immediately to be the answers for those lingering questions about Weiner’s obliviousness.  Warning:  This is not for the faint-at-heart idealists who believe in the good of all public servants.

On capitol hill, politicians are treated like gods, their flunkies being the fiercest adherents to the gospel of (insert politician of your choice.)  Willing to do anything, many political staffers yoke themselves to a politician in an effort to become a closer aide, an insider, a trusted confidante.  You see, for the standard staffer, particularly of a well-known and popular representative, being in the orbit of a power player is the ultimate prize.  And Weiner’s wife, Huma Abedin’s resume reads like the exemplary case(disclaimer: this may be unflattering).  A trusted Clinton aide, Abedin acts as chief chapstick-holder, and water-fetcher for fifteen years (curiously long time to serve without ever having held any actual policy position.)  And in exchange for her loyalty, she gets a spread in Vogue; rich and famous friends ranging from George Clooney to Oscar de la Renta; and a jet-setting lifestyle, while somewhere along the way getting married to a rising political star in a ceremony officiated by former President Bill Clinton, himself.  That’s a hell of a payout, and staffers obviously aren’t often showered with such spoils.  It’s more an ideal than the norm, but you get the idea.  In exchange for undying loyalty and the sacrifice of your own name and career in order to personally serve your “boss”, you get to be part of the politician’s inner circle, engaging in their lives and benefitting from their power and prestige.  That’s the game.  It’s a game for people who won’t have an orbit of their own – who are content to be attached to another – who would rather live entirely as the surrogate of a somebody than risk standing on their own as a nobody.

In a world like that, where the sycophancy runs deep, is it any surprise that pols believe every person with whom they interact to exist entirely in service of them?  Remeber Andrew Young, John Edwards’ aide, who actually claimed paternity of Edwards’ love child in a half-assed attempt to salvage the candidate’s career?  Well, this brand of servitude is peppered throughout Washington, and I’m convinced that it warps the minds of the masters.  The Weiners of the world can’t actually fathom a sext-buddy’s betrayal because they’re ensconced in a world where every person they know would happily jump in front of a bus to save them.  The mere idea that an associate may very well run them over with that same bus becomes inconceivable.  And maybe they’re not entirely wrong.  After all, Weiner’s relationships apparently went on for years, yet none of his ladies came forward until after the cat was out of the bag.

Nevertheless, my foray into politics lasted less than one month – my experience was harrowing.  But the one thing I learned, (and the reason I left) was that underneath the politics and the policy lies the most bizarre cult-of-personality soup.  Soon after jumping in the pot, I became enraged at the things I was being asked to do.  I couldn’t believe I was being instructed to run around, blindly (and loudly) making unjust accusations in a manner that would damage my own career, only to raise the profile of an already well-established politician.  And what’s worse, I was expected to be honored for the privilege to lie down in front of the bus that was sure to follow.  That’s how insignificant I was supposed to find myself.  I existed only as an arm of a powerful politician – not as an individual with a budding career of my own.  As far as the hill was concerned, any career advancements would not be my own.  Instead they would be rewards - tokens of appreciation handed to me for my loyalty by the powers that be.   So I completely understand why Weiner could confidently walk the halls of Congress while sending lewd texts, never considering that they might be leaked.  He had blinders on.  The blinders of capitol hill.

This posting originally appeared at www.thealternativefeminist.com