In addition to the surprise over the indictment of former House Speaker that raised the issue of Hastert's past sexual abuse of a male student, many have been surprised at how a former school teacher and coach was in a position to be paying millions in hush money. The answer, of course, is Washington's revolving door which allows former elected officials to reap millions after retirement to work for lobbying firms and other organizations. Hastert in more ways than one represents what's wrong with Washington today. A piece in
The Daily Beast looks at how Hastert became wealthy as have far too many politicians. Here are excerpts:
It’s clear that the indictment of Dennis Hastert has raised more
questions than it’s provided answers. But I suspect a lot of people are
asking the wrong ones. Hastert’s “misconduct” may turn out to be of
sexually predatory nature, in which case talk of how much his reputation
is worth is picayune compared the nature of crime. But there are
questions about what he did that are applicable to the entire industry
he represents.
The most obvious question, that’s also the least
relevant for most Americans: What is the “misconduct” that Hastert is
alleged to have been trying to cover up?
If the conduct was sexual abuse,
as sources are saying, then the statute of limitations has run out. It
follows that Hastert wasn’t paying hush money to stay out of jail, he
was protecting his reputation.
A better question, and one that many Washington watchdogs leapt on
quickly: How did Hastert happen to have enough money lying around that
paying out $3.5 million was even within the realm of possibility?
Hastert’s
ability to participate in the blackmail is, after all, itself a general
indictment of D.C.’s “revolving door” money culture, in which former
lawmakers move easily from government into lobbying. In Hastert’s case,
the ability to profit off of one’s legislative position is especially
galling: While in office, Hastert used the earmarking process to turn his investment in some Illinois farmland into a profit of 140 percent when a federal highway project just happened
to make its way through those very fields. Indeed, it was this instance
of a completely legal form of insider trading that helped prompt
Congress to end earmarks.
And, of course, Hastert made even more money once he was out of office. One study
found that, on average—and when the information is publicly
available—former lawmakers get a 1,425 percent raise when they make the
jump from Capitol Hill to K Street. Hastert, who was worth between $4
million and $17 million when he left Congress, was making $175,000 as a
representative. His K Street bump would be to almost $2.5 million a
year.
And, it’s important to remember, what Hastert was covering up with that
hush money was not a “reputation” as an average citizen might conceive
of it: something akin to honor or trustworthiness or fidelity. A
lobbyist’s reputation, after all, actually hinges on his or her
established lack of principles. A lobbying client for someone who
is a former member of Congress is paying a premium for that person’s
willingness to engage in barely-legal favor-trading. A lobbyist’s prices
go up the more corrupt he is. Who wants to hire an honest one?