Just before noon on January 20, 2017, John Brennan, the outgoing C.I.A. director, drove to the home of a former colleague to watch Donald Trump take the oath of office. President Obama’s most trusted intelligence advisers had come together as spectators for the first time after eight years in government. No group had access to more U.S. secrets about the role that the Russians played in the 2016 election and their mysterious contacts with the Trump campaign, fuelling their collective concerns about Trump becoming President. As Trump delivered his Inaugural Address, the mood at the viewing party darkened to “one of great worry,” one participant recalled. Brennan found the President’s message “disgraceful,” a view that he thought, as a career intelligence professional, he would keep to himself.
The next day, Trump delivered a campaign-style speech at C.I.A. headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and Brennan’s phone lit up with text messages and e-mails from former agency colleagues who, like him, were outraged. After going to the gym to burn off steam, Brennan drafted a statement decrying Trump’s “despicable display of self-aggrandizement,” which Nick Shapiro, his former deputy chief of staff at the C.I.A., e-mailed to news organizations. Brennan had told Shapiro that he intended to spend his time working with the universities that he attended as a young man and wanted to avoid becoming a focus of attention. But Trump has a way of forcing people to think about which side they are on and what they are prepared to do about it.
To be sure, intelligence officers have political and policy views of their own. But they are instructed and trained from their first day of joining the C.I.A. not to let those views affect their intelligence work. Michael Morell, who served as acting C.I.A. director after a long career as an analyst at the agency, said that he liked to tell new recruits, “Leave your political views in your car in the parking lot. Don’t bring them in the building.” While the U.S. military’s culture discourages officers from expressing political views in public after they retire, “there is no similar ethos in the intelligence community, there is no instruction book” for former intelligence professionals, Morell told me, “so you’re left to figure it out on your own.”
Brennan worked in the Obama Administration for eight years, as a top White House counterterrorism adviser and then C.I.A. director, but he told me last week that he always considered himself to be apolitical, pointing to the fact that he has never registered as either a Democrat or a Republican. He said that he steered clear of partisan politics while serving for twenty-five years as a career officer in the C.I.A. Brennan said that he initially tried to avoid publicly criticizing Trump but found it difficult to resist the pressure.
The first public clash between the two men occurred the week before Trump was sworn in as President. In a tweet, Trump falsely blamed U.S. intelligence agencies for leaking Christopher Steele’s dossier to the press and asked, “Are we living in Nazi Germany?” In an interview on Fox News, Brennan said, “What I do find outrageous is equating an intelligence community with Nazi Germany. I do take great umbrage at that, and there is no basis for Mr. Trump to point fingers at the intelligence community for leaking information that was already available publicly.” Trump, in turn, attacked Brennan on Twitter: “Was this the leaker of Fake News?”
Over the next few months, the former C.I.A. director began wondering whether trying to stay silent was a mistake. A turning point for Brennan was a tweet from the President on March 4, 2017, in which Trump falsely claimed, “How low has President Obama gone to tapp my phones during the very sacred election process. This is Nixon/Watergate. Bad (or sick) guy!” A friend said Brennan was appalled that Trump would use the word “sick” to describe the former President. It was a moment that Brennan told me he remembered “very, very vividly” as he weighed going public with his views about Trump.
At the time, some of Trump’s most fervent supporters in the White House saw former Obama Administration officials as powerful enemies who threatened the new President’s rule, and they agitated for punishing them by revoking their security clearances. The idea was rebuffed by the national-security adviser at the time, H. R. McMaster, who signed a memo extending the clearances of his predecessors at the N.S.C., Republicans and Democrats alike. As Trump stepped up his public and private attacks on Obama, some of the new President’s advisers thought that he should take the extraordinary step of denying Obama himself access to intelligence briefings that were made available to all of his living predecessors. Trump was told about the importance of keeping former Presidents, who frequently met with foreign leaders, informed. In the end, Trump decided not to exclude Obama, at the urging of McMaster.
In September, 2017, Brennan created his own Twitter account, a step toward playing a bigger role in criticizing Trump. Brennan was familiar with the social-networking service from his time at the C.I.A. He had never used Twitter, but, while director, he authorized the agency to create its first account, in 2014, and personally approved the agency’s first tweet, which read, “We can neither confirm nor deny that this is our first tweet.” Initially, Brennan told me, he found Twitter “very uncomfortable, quite frankly,” not surprising given his background operating in the shadowy world of intelligence. He said he didn’t like the idea, at first, of expressing his personal views publicly. But Brennan concluded that “Mr. Trump is not mending his ways, nor maturing.” An unresolved question for Brennan, though, was how personal to make his public criticism.
Michael Hayden, a retired four-star Air Force general who served as C.I.A. director during the George W. Bush Administration, had chosen to limit his public critiques of the President to policy matters. When asked during a television appearance if he thought Trump was a racist, Hayden refused to respond directly. “I’m a career military officer. I’m not answering that question,” Hayden told me. “I’m not someone to make a personal judgment about the President.” Hayden’s rhetoric would later take a darker turn when he tweeted out a photo of the Birkenau death camp at Auschwitz, writing, “Other governments have separated mothers and children,” as a critique of a policy that separated immigrant children from their parents at the U.S. border. Hayden said that he didn’t violate the ground rules he set for himself, because he wrote “governments” instead of singling out Trump or the Trump Administration. “That’s a less personal word than some others I could have chosen,” Hayden told me. “But even if in your heart you know you’re just sticking to your narrow lane, the risk is you start to look like the resistance.”
Morell, the former acting C.I.A. director, also decided to limit his public commentary to policy matters, a choice that allowed him to quietly work with members of the new Administration, despite the fact that he had endorsed Hillary Clinton. Others, including Dennis Blair, a retired admiral who served as Obama’s first director of National Intelligence, fell into the “purist” camp, and told me he avoided any public utterances about Trump that could be perceived as taking sides.
Brennan saw things differently. “What I decided to do is not just limit my criticism to his policy choices,” Brennan said. The former C.I.A. director wanted to zero in on what he saw as Trump’s “lack of character,” adding, of his choice, “I really have taken great offense at his personal demeanor, his lack of integrity and his dishonesty.” On December 21, 2017, Brennan tweeted for the first time, about a subject that he cared deeply about—the Lockerbie bombing. When he served as Obama’s top counterterrorism adviser, Brennan met with the families of those killed in the terrorist attack, in 1988. “May the 270 innocent souls lost in the PanAm 103 bombing 29 years ago today never fade from our national memory,” he wrote.
Minutes later, Brennan fired off his first Twitter attack on Trump, in reaction to the President’s threat to punish countries at the United Nations that opposed his decision to move the U.S. Embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. (Earlier that month, Brennan issued a written statement calling the decision “reckless” and warning that it would “damage U.S. interests in the Middle East for years to come.”) In the tweet, Brennan compared Trump to a “narcissistic, vengeful” autocrat who “expects blind loyalty and subservience from everyone.”
Brennan told me that he made a conscious decision to make his attacks personal in nature. “I did it knowingly and I did it being aware that it was going to have certain repercussions about how I was going to be perceived,” he said. Brennan said that his goal was to “call out” Trump for being “small, petty, banal, mean-spirited, nasty, naïve, unsophisticated . . . a charlatan, a snake-oil salesman, a schoolyard bully . . . an emperor with no clothes.”
As Brennan’s rhetoric escalated in the spring of 2018, Trump complained to senior advisers about his tweets, officials said. McMaster, who opposed revoking the clearances of his predecessors, ended his tenure as national-security adviser in April. And as time passed Trump felt increasingly embittered and less restrained, former aides told me. One former Trump adviser said that Brennan’s rhetoric fed into the President’s narrative. “He has a tremendous sense of being wronged already, just in general. This is part of it,” the former adviser told me. Brennan said Trump’s defensive outbursts suggested that he was “very concerned” about the outcome of the Russia investigation.