Graham Platner’s Team Keeps Insulting Our Intelligence
The Senate hopeful’s crew keeps telling us his scandals don’t matter. They keep piling up.
I bet you know quite a few of these people. I do, too. None of them are saints, and they’re not necessarily Goody Two-shoes. It’s just not that uncommon or difficult to go through life without engaging in these kinds of morally suspect behaviors.
Graham Platner would have us believe otherwise. Every time the Senate candidate from Maine has been called to account for past offenses and personal indiscretions that have come to light, the Platner campaign has brushed them off as low-stakes mistakes that have no bearing on his qualifications for political office.
The most recent Platner scandal arose this weekend, when the Wall Street Journal reported that Platner’s wife, Amy Gertner, disclosed to a campaign aide in 2025 that she had found sexually explicit text messages to other women on his phone. The sexting to between 6 and 12 women reportedly ended before the campaign began, and the couple worked through the betrayal in counseling.
But it is insulting to be told that a candidate’s private conduct is irrelevant to his political ambitions. In a candidate’s personal life, beneath the curated character he presents to the public, we see a clearer picture of who he is, which holds clues to how he’ll act in office. Is he guided by consistent principles, or by the whims of the moment? Is he willing to make sacrifices for the long-term good, or is he susceptible to the pull of short-term gratification? Is he honest, dependable, hardworking, compassionate, prudent? If he is voted into office, will he embarrass himself with some new offense right before his next election, putting the fate of his party—and, more importantly, its policy aims—in jeopardy?
When they’re not blinded by political loyalty and electoral dreams, people instinctively grasp the importance of a politician’s personal history. Campaign strategists love to tout a military record, a blue-collar résumé, small-business ownership, and a life of family and faith, in part because they suggest qualities that bode well for a political leader. There’s a reason why, before the Trump era, socially stigmatized behaviors were—and occasionally still are—a barrier to public office. As the second-wave feminist movement succinctly put it, the personal is political; the way we behave toward the people around us betrays our political values. If we don’t tip service employees, it calls into question our respect for the working class and our commitment to decent, well-paid work. If we call the cops on teens violating a city curfew, it suggests a cavalier attitude toward the perils of the justice system. If we treat the women in our lives with disrespect and deceit, we aren’t exactly the picture of a feminist ally.
Democrats have hung their hopes for defeating longtime incumbent Susan Collins and retaking the Senate on Platner, which makes his candidacy essential to blocking Trump’s agenda for the rest of his term. It is now far too late in the election cycle for Dems to field another candidate. For these reasons, and for all my aforementioned principles about allowing people to repent for their mistakes, I don’t think Platner should drop out of the race. Nor would I suggest Maine voters send Collins back to the Senate to rubber-stamp more of Trump’s appointees and legislative priorities. But there is a middle ground between championing Platner’s opponent and dismissing his pattern of ill-considered behavior as insignificant. If this had been the first indication that Platner had a reckless streak, I would have been more inclined to brush it off. Likewise, any future transgressions will build on the picture of his character that is coming into view.
Just as a candidate’s past can offer hints on how he’ll serve in office, it is also telling to watch how he reacts to revelations of wrongdoing. Platner has responded by attacking the journalists who reported the facts. It’s a troubling instinct, especially as Trump fuels mistrust of the media and presides over assaults on the First Amendment, when the reporters stayed perfectly within the bounds of responsible journalism.