I went to prison for defending the Constitutional separation of powers.
John Bolton (an occasional contributor to The Hill) may well wind up in prison, too if investigators uncover evidence and prosecutors decide to bring charges over his alleged classified disclosures.
When Bolton wrote his book, “The Room Where It Happened” — reportedly receiving a $2 million advance — he wasn’t just dishing gossip. He was sharing information about Oval Office conversations and national security that should have stayed secret — either by law or under executive privilege.
A federal judge already spelled this out in black and white. In June 2020, Judge Royce Lamberth warned that Bolton had “likely jeopardized national security by disclosing classified information in violation of his nondisclosure agreement obligations.” The judge only allowed the book to hit shelves because “the horse is already out of the barn,” given the publication of excerpts and the shipment of 200,000 copies of the book.
Lamberth went further in his ruling, stressing that Bolton had “gambled with the national security of the United States” and that the government was “likely to succeed on the merits” of proving he unlawfully disclosed classified material. Translation: Bolton didn’t just break trust — he may have also broken the law.
I served with Bolton, and he was far too frequently a loose cannon, bent on bombings and coups— Doctor Strangelove with a mustache. He agitated for airstrikes, pushed regime-change fantasies, and obsessed over military solutions when diplomacy was working. Then, instead of honoring executive privilege and confidential debate, Bolton acknowledged that in writing his memoir he relied on the “copious notes” he had conspicuously taken inside the White House.
That isn’t service. That isn’t patriotism. That’s profiteering off of America’s secrets.
For example, Bolton described confidential U.S. deliberations on how to fracture Nicolás Maduro’s control and prompt military defections. That kind of blueprint isn’t something you hand to the public — or to Maduro’s intelligence services. Such a disclosure of national-defense information without authorization can constitute a crime. Bolton puffed himself up as the great strategist of Caracas, but in reality, his disclosures were reckless speculation. No covert plan was exposed, no law broken by President Trump, and no evidence of U.S. misconduct was ever substantiated.
Another case pertained to Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and Turkey’s Halkbank. In 2019, the U.S. Justice Department charged Halkbank with helping Iran evade American sanctions by funneling oil and gas revenues through front companies and falsifying records. Bolton recounts a conversation in his book where Turkey’s strongman pressed Trump to back off. But that wasn’t a colorful anecdote — it was an active criminal matter even at the time he published, which subsequently went all the way to the Supreme Court.
Under federal law, removing or retaining classified drafts or notes of such a meeting can be punishable by prison time. Moreover, in the end, Bolton’s claims amounted to nothing but bluster. There was no Justice Department retreat on Halkbank, no evidence whatsoever that the prosecution was derailed, and no Trump misconduct.
On North Korea, Bolton revealed the inside playbook of U.S. negotiations with Kim Jong-un and consultations with South Korea. Seoul publicly blasted him for breaking trust. Allied intelligence, if documented in notes taken outside secure channels, could implicate either of two sections of the U.S. code covering unauthorized disclosure of communications intelligence.
Bolton’s book also exposed the advice and concerns of Britain, France, and other NATO partners during closed-door consultations. Foreign-government information is automatically classified under U.S. law. Publishing it didn’t just humiliate our allies; it shredded trust. Not only that, but his sensationalized speculation about Trump breaching the NATO treaty proved to be just that.
These aren’t minor indiscretions. They are statutory minefields. Collectively, these and other “Big Reveals” in Bolton’s book create a trove of national defense intelligence scattered by someone who took an oath of office to guard it.
I said it plainly on Newsmax when Bolton’s disclosures were under fresh scrutiny: “Hey, John, the difference between you and a president is that presidents can take anything they want and declassify it. And brother, you can’t.”
I know the stakes because I’ve paid the price. Steve Bannon and I both went to prison for defending the Constitution and our system of separation of powers. If evidence is found and indictments made, Bolton may one day go to prison for shredding that Constitution, defying executive privilege, and trampling safeguards meant to protect America’s security.
If that happens, Bolton won’t be remembered for his book tour. He’ll be remembered for the sequel he writes in prison.
Peter Navarro, an adviser to President Trump in both of his terms, is the author of “I Went to Prison So You Won’t Have To.” His personal views do not necessarily reflect those of the Trump administration.
