Cinema News

April 16, 2026 | View in browser

By Anita Chabria

Columnist

Happy Thursday. I’m Times columnist Anita Chabria, here with a public service message to male politicians: Keep your pants on.

No, I don’t mean be patient — I mean actually keep your pants on.

It seems like a simple ask that male politicians don’t sexually harass or even rape women, but also, it seems like an open secret in Congress that sexual misconduct is too common.

Take Eric Swalwell, whose epic political immolation has captivated this week’s national political news, including a TMZ-obtained video of the then-congressman bleary-eyed in a bathrobe on a yacht that was literally the least-worst revelation.

For years “there were swirling rumors about Eric,” former Rep. Jackie Speier told me. Speier in 2018 thought she’d put in place tough new rules to stop sexual misconduct among her former colleagues, and the type of backroom shrugs that allowed men to prowl unchecked.

But despite her efforts, Speier, who represented a part of the Bay Area near Swalwell’s district until 2023, said the problem remains Congress itself, and the “crippling” power that elected officials have over their staffs. Don’t get her started on how that power imbalance is even worse for young lobbyists.

“I’ve always said that Congress is Hollywood for ugly people,” she said. “It’s a whole environment that becomes, I think, toxic.”

But also one that, she added, isn’t inevitable.

The 2018 change

In 2017, the #MeToo movement had swept into the public consciousness and ignited calls for change.

Armed with that outrage and the roiling fire of public opinion, Speier set out to change archaic rules that governed how sexual misconduct was handled in Congress.

“I’ll just run through what it was like,” she told me. “If you wanted to file a complaint, you had to be prepared to go through some period of counseling; to have a cooling off period; to participate in mandatory mediation; and sign an NDA, and then the taxpayers picked up the tab if there was a settlement. It was kind of jaw dropping to think that that was the policy.”

It wasn’t just policy, it was culture. Speier herself had been the victim of an assault when she was a young staffer — a senior staffer pushing her against a wall and forcibly kissing her. And like so many women, she put the episode aside and went on with her career because speaking out would have likely brought her more grief than justice.

But by 2017, she realized the public was at a “tipping point,” and, as she said then, “Congress has been a breeding ground for a hostile work environment for far too long.”

With Rep. Bradley Byrne, a Republican from Alabama, they passed the Congressional Accountability Act of 1995 Reform Act.

It did away with the weird and coercive requirement for counseling and a cooling off period and most significantly, forced sexual harassers to pay for their own settlements instead of pinning the cost on taxpayers.

But even with the new rules, some colleagues didn’t seem to get it. Speier recalled one man who, informed of possibility he would have to pay sexual harassment settlements out of his own pocket, asked if he could purchase insurance to cover those costs.

“How about you keep your zipper up?” Speier wondered.

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The bigger problem

Still, Speier said she thought the law made a difference not just in how claims of misconduct were handled, but in the culture of Capitol Hill.

But, “over time it just was relaxed,” she said.

When Speier left office in 2023, Rep. George Santos (R-N.Y.) was under investigation for sexual harassment — a claim Congress deemed unfounded, but bounced Santos from its ranks for a bunch of other misconduct.

Let’s be real — Congress has never been without scandal.

But Speier said that doesn’t mean sexual abuse can’t be stopped. She just thinks the rules she put in place need to be even tougher: A zero-tolerance approach similar to what corporate America often enforces.

“I’m thinking now that the way to fix this may be something more direct and straightforward and simple, much like they do in the private sector,” she said.

“When the CEO is having an affair with a subordinate and it becomes known, he’s history. He’s relieved of his duties, and if we made it clear that if you sexually harass a staff member, or you have an affair with a staff member, you will be expelled, or you will be subject to expulsion of Congress, that will change their behavior.”

I love her enthusiasm and I support tossing out miscreant members, but I’m not sure even that will keep the zippers up. But there is always hope.

And something has to be done.

“These cases underscore the fact that these women do not feel comfortable coming forward,” she pointed out. “So we’ve got to figure out why and close that hole.

“Is it because they’re fearful that they’ll be retaliated against or that they’ll be ostracized or blackballed? I don’t know the answer, but I’m really urging my colleagues on both sides of the aisle to fix this, and part of fixing it is talking to these women who were, in fact, sexually harassed and assaulted and find out why they didn’t feel comfortable coming forward.”

That’s the real issue, and the real demand we should be making. From the Oval Office to district offices, too many elected leaders have proven they’ll use their power to obtain sex — by coercion or even force.

And too many women remain afraid to speak out because they still suffer both career and social consequences — a realistic fear that coming forward could end their own ambitions, or at least leave them battling to not be defined by the abuse.

Yes, Swalwell and others have been shamed into resigning.

But it’s past time to make sexual abuse a one-strike-you’re-out offense — for the perpetrator, not the survivor.