Mitch Mcconnell has the ‘Potomac Fever.’ It’s time to let go.

Senate Minority

Leader Mitch Mcconnell’s freeze during a routine news conference this week was both painful to watch and a reminder of the limits of elderly government officials. How long before we see one of our elected octogenarians suffer a stroke or heart attack? And why must Americans be forced to witness such a traumatic event?

I’ll tell you. It has to do with a condition unique to Washington that, though not contagious, infects nearly everyone who comes to town. It’s known as “Potomac Fever.” Its primary symptom: an unwillingness to leave.

I remember, 20 years ago, running into columnist Jonah Goldberg’s parents at a Washington fete, soon after I arrived in town pulling a U-haul trailer containing a sleeper sofa, a table and chair, and a TV. When Lucianne Goldberg asked what had made me move from South Carolina, her husband poked a finger toward my face. “I know why. You wanted to be close to power!” He roared with laughter at my apparent confusion. Was he right? Had I really come to be close to power?

Of course, he was. Why else? Power is an aphrodisiac for some, an addiction for many. But before one can experience power, one must be relevant. Relevance is the coin of the Washington realm, and it doesn’t come cheap. It takes hard work and, for most, it doesn’t last. (In Washington, “NFL” stands for “not for long.”)

Once relevance has been achieved, the next phase of the fever is self-mythologizing. Buying one’s own grand story is common in the marble halls. It is also dangerous. The afflicted listen only to their supporters and staff, who cull the news for only good clips.

Next after relevance and mythmaking comes hubris. This is the belief that not only can you get away with anything but you are essential to the continuing rotation of the earth upon its axis.

Exhibit A: President Biden, who has never held a real job since he was elected to the Senate in 1972, has said he won’t step away from the 2024 election, despite frequent bumbles and many supporters’ advice to do so, because he believes the world needs him. How does the saying go? Graveyards are filled with indispensable people.

Mcconnell (Ky.), who was first elected to the Senate in 1984 and has served 16 years as the body’s Republican leader, has lasted longer than most. Even Democrats would concede that he has been effective. He gets much of the credit for the Supreme Court’s conservative majority. He won my respect when, during the debate over whether Roy Moore should drop out of the U.S. Senate race in Alabama because of allegations that he had preyed on young women, Mcconnell said, “I believe the women.”

When the Senate leader went blank for an uncomfortable 30 seconds on Wednesday while gripping the lectern and staring into the middle distance, colleagues helped him move away. Anyone witnessing his stare might have thought he was suffering a stroke. Within minutes, however, he returned to the mic and joked that he was fine.

The medical explanation might be unknown, but this clearly wasn’t nothing. It isn’t fair to ask us to watch. We feel your pain, even if you don’t, Senator. Mcconnell’s brain stepped out for a stroll and, very likely, it will again. He and others of advanced years — he’s 81 — have a duty to their country, not to mention their families, to walk away while they can still do so with dignity.

Obviously, individuals age at different paces and in various ways. My older friends tell me that 90 is the new 70, and I hope they’re right. But most people begin to show signs of decline after 80. Their gait slackens and the search for the right word becomes a frustrating game. That said, I’ve known folks who continued working in top form into their 90s.

But public figures must operate by a special standard. Confidence and trust in their abilities inevitably wanes with each misstep or fumbled message. This is why I long ago adopted the “Giuliani Rule,” referring to the day former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani appeared on television as his hair rinse dripped down his cheek. As my younger, next-generation friend Abby Livingston said, we should retire before the rinse starts dripping — or before we trip on a sandbag or lose track of our thoughts.

Given that the average age of U.S. senators is 65 and the average U.S. citizen is 38, it’s fair to say that old people clinging to power are depriving the country of fresh insights and representation.

I hope Mcconnell is fine, needless to say. But he should know there’s no shame in recognizing when one’s job is done. Real power sometimes lies in letting go. Our public servants need a trusted someone who will say, “Sir, there’s no one else as good as you, except the next guy. Let’s go home.”