Former White House press secretary Sean Spicer at the controversial press conference. Photo / AP
Former White House press secretary Sean Spicer at the controversial press conference. Photo / AP
Former press secretary Sean Spicer sent shockwaves through the White House, the Jewish community and the world after a media conference last year.
Speaking about the Khan Shaykhun chemical attack, he said Russia should not support the Syrian government and added that in World War II "You had someone as despicable as Hitler who didn't even sink to using chemical weapons."
The April 11 remarks coincided with the Jewish holiday of Passover.
Three months later he resigned - it was reported he disagreed with President Donald Trump mp appointing financier Anthony Scaramucci as White House communications director.
After keeping a low profile for a few months, it was revealed Spicer had filled several notebooks during his eight-month tenure at the White House on what he did, saw, and heard.
He has now released a book, The Briefing, which the Herald on Sunday has been given an exclusive extract of.
I've had many roles as a communication director or press secretary in my career, and I have helped countless candidates, party officials, and elected officials undergo media training.
Media training isn't as formal as it sounds. It's basically teaching people how to prepare for an interview, especially on camera. The trainee sits in a chair in front of a camera while a staffer asks practice questions.
And there are some basic rules. If you're preparing for an in-studio interview, you look at the interviewer, not the camera; if your interview is in a remote studio, you look directly at the camera.
Former White House press secretary Sean Spicer at the controversial press conference. Photo / AP
Don't move your hands too much. Don't repeat a question. Don't validate a premise with which you disagree.
And the number one rule I gave every Republican was don't ever, ever talk about rape or compare anything or anyone to Hitler or the Holocaust. Ever.
I can't tell you how many times I've repeated these rules to everyone from candidates to state party chairmen.
But on April 11, 2017, I violated my own number one rule, setting off another controversy from the White House podium.
Earlier, I had been part of a small, impromptu briefing in the dining room off the Oval Office where Secretary Mattis had explained to the president the degree of the current atrocities committed by Syria's leader, Bashar al-Assad.
He noted that not even Adolf Hitler had dared to use chemical weapons on the battlefield (note the word "battlefield").
I left the meeting wanting to make sure that the horror of Assad's actions was fully communicated. I wanted everyone to understand just how evil Assad is and why the president had acted so swiftly.
When I went into the briefing room to begin the daily briefing, echoes of Mattis's words were still with me. The briefing started with a reflection on a tragic shooting in San Bernardino, California, and a readout of a meeting the president had had with private sector CEOs on modernizing the government.
Then I opened up the briefing for questions. Eleven of the first fifteen questions focused on Syria. The video showing the pain and suffering of the Syrian people that had gone viral was clearly on the minds of the reporters. I was doing well, talking about the president's reaction and concern.
But then came the sixteenth question. "The alliance between Russia and Syria is a strong one; it goes back decades. President Putin has supplied personnel. He's supplied military equipment to the Assad government. What makes you think that at this point he's going to pull back in his support for President Assad and for the Syrian government right now?"
Spicer says President Donald Trump understood what he meant. Photo / Getty
I thought to myself, "I got this." I had been in a groove expressing the president's concern and Assad's horrific actions. But instead of staying on the messages that had been working just fine, I tried to turn it up a notch:
"I think a couple things. You look — we didn't use chemical weapons in World War II. You had someone as despicable as Hitler who didn't even sink to using chemical weapons. So, you have to, if you're Russia, ask yourself is this a country that you and a regime that you want to align yourself with?
"You have previously signed on to international agreements rightfully acknowledging that the use of chemical weapons should be out of bounds by every country. To not stand up to not only Assad, but your own word, should be troubling.
"Russia put their name on the line. So, it's not a question of how long that alliance has lasted, but at what point do they recognize that they are now getting on the wrong side of history in a really bad way really quickly. And again, look at the countries that are standing with them: Iran, Syria, North Korea. This is not a team you want to be on. And I think that Russia has to recognize that while they may have had an alliance with them, that the lines that have been crossed are one that no country should ever want to see another country cross."
That was it—like the previous eleven questions on the subject, I thought I had sufficiently described the outrage we had toward both Assad and Russia.
The questions in the briefing room are asked at the speed of light. I would answer one question while anticipating the next one. In my mind, I thought I had answered the question, but clearly what had come out of my mouth was not the full explanation that I had envisioned saying.
Trump walks out with Spicer. Photo / Getty
I kept going, oblivious to the damage I had done. The next question was about the president's tax returns. Then came a question about the Easter Egg Roll. My corny response about it being "egg-cellent" evoked laughter from the briefing room. That was followed by a question on the White House vistor logs.
After that, more questions focused on Syria and North Korea, and a question was asked about taxes and infrastructure. At this point, I thought I was doing great. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary because of the pace and intensity of the briefings.
Then I called on ABC News's Cecilia Vega. "Sean, thanks. I just want to give you an opportunity to clarify something you said that seems to be gaining some traction right now."
What now? Then she started reading from her phone. "'Hitler didn't even sink to the level of using chemical weapons.' What did you mean by that?"
What? Frantically, I'm thinking, "What did I do?" I responded, "I think when you come to sarin gas, there was no —h e was not using the gas on his own people the same way that Assad is doing, I mean, there was clearly —I understand your point, thank you."
Cecilia then tried to throw me lifeline number two, which I failed to grab. She said, "I'm just getting—" but I cut her off and stepped in it deeper and deeper.
"Thank you, I appreciate that," I said. "There was not — he brought them into the Holocaust center, I understand that. But I'm saying in the way that Assad used them, where he went into towns, dropped them down to innocent — into the middle of towns. It was brought—so the use of it—I appreciate the clarification there. That was not the intent."
What had I done. Holocaust centers? And I didn't realize until later that I had inadvertently omitted General Mattis's important phrase "on the battlefield."
Hitler, of course, had used chemical weapons to murder Jews and other victims during the Holocaust. I read the body language of not only the reporters but also my own staffers along the side of the room. I was beginning to realize I had misspoken badly. The instincts that kick in behind that podium are similar, I imagine, to those of a quarterback facing a blitz—just get rid of the ball and don't get knocked down. But after a bad play, a quarterback can call a time out and get his thoughts together and confer with his team.
Russian President Vladimir Putin, left, shakes hands with Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. Photo / AP
A press secretary behind the podium doesn't have any time outs to call. In the heat of the moment, I still hadn't realized what I had said wrong. I was so fully focused on condemning Assad that I failed to see how badly I had stumbled by omitting that phrase, "on the battlefield."
By this point, I was feeling flustered, still not fully understanding what had just happened. My remarks were not quite right, and I had the alarming sense that I was digging myself into a deeper hole with each word. This may have been the lowest moment I had in the White House. I alone had fumbled; no one else had made me do it.
The irony is that this was a question that I had been waiting for, that I had been prepared to answer. And I had been given two chances to clarify the record.
After the briefing, I went to my staff. I knew it was bad, but I still asked, how deep am I? Sarah Huckabee Sanders, Natalie Strom, and Raj Shah gave me a look that said, "Deeper than the Titanic." Then I noticed the calendar on my computer. It read, "First day of Passover."
Reince came into my office. "Remember the first thing you taught me in media training?" he asked. "Yes," I said sheepishly. Never compare anyone to Hitler. I made a mistake, a big one, and I needed to say so.
I went to the Oval Office to see the president. "Mr. President, I need you to know that I just stepped in it really badly, and I screwed up."
"I saw it. But I know what you meant, Sean. It's going to be okay."
"Thank you, sir, but I think I've embarrassed you and the administration and insulted the Jewish people. I need to make it right."
"Look, Sean, you screwed up, but I know what you meant. You clearly didn't mean . . . " He trailed off. When he spoke again, his tone was gentle. At a moment when I felt my worst, he tried to reassure me and was gracious, caring, and forgiving.
Finally, he said, "Do what you think is right." I felt like I had a fever that was going to get worse before it broke. And despite the president's support, I was again wondering if this was my last day at the White House.
Former White House press secretary Sean Spicer. Photo / AP
I asked Natalie, who is Jewish, how the story was playing. Natalie is as loyal as they come, but she had to confess it was getting much worse. Many people echoed the president, telling me they "knew what I meant," but millions of other people did not and were deeply offended.
In this moment, I knew I had three choices: one, do nothing and hope it blew over; two, look for a friendly interviewer or reporter and try to put my spin on the story; or three, find the most challenging interviewer I could, own the mistake, and ask for forgiveness. I chose number three.
I asked my team to check which news shows I could get on ASAP. They came back with several options, including appearing on CNN with Wolf Blitzer at 5pm. I knew from the outset that it wouldn't be an easy interview. Wolf always asks tough questions. And he is the son of two Holocaust survivors.
"I was obviously trying to make a point about the heinous acts that Assad had made against his own people last week, using chemical weapons and gas," I told Wolf. "Frankly, I mistakenly used an inappropriate and insensitive reference to the Holocaust, for which, frankly, there is no comparison. And for that I apologize."
Many public apologies aren't really apologies at all. To say, "I am sorry to those who took offense at my comments," isn't an apology. Either you are sorry or you aren't. I wanted to make it clear that I was sorry — that I had said something I hadn't meant to say and truly regretted it.
Wolf kept boring down on me. Wasn't I aware that in addition to the Jews, others had been victims of Hitler's poison-gas chambers? Of course, I told him. "Have you spoken to President Trump about your blunder today?" Wolf asked.
"Obviously, it was my blunder," I said. To think that I had offended people—especially those whose families had been victims of the Holocaust — twisted my stomach in a way I had never felt before and hope to never feel again. I had created this mess. I had embarrassed myself, my team, and the president.
House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi, other Democrats, and even a Republican congressman from Colorado were soon calling for my resignation. That evening, I was as down as I ever was. Some people can shrug off bad moments, but I have a hard time forgiving myself when I make a mistake, especially when I hurt others. It grates on me.
Fortunately, Rebecca and the kids were waiting for me at home, and that made all the difference. Marlin Fitzwater, who had served in both the Reagan and the George H. W. Bush communications shops, wrote me early in my days at the White House with a bit of sage advice: "You don't have to explain what you don't say." His words would have served me well on that day.
Cover of The Briefing by Sean Spicer. Photo / Supplied
