Former South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford pulled the plug on his latest political comeback Thursday, dropping out of the Republican primary for South Carolina's 1st Congressional District roughly one month after filing to run. The 65-year-old told the Associated Press he plans to redirect his energy, and more than $1.3 million sitting in his federal campaign account, toward building a nonprofit focused on the national debt.
It is a quiet exit for a man whose career has been anything but. Sanford's name remains synonymous with one of the most memorable political scandals of the past two decades: the June 2009 disappearance from the governor's mansion that ended not on the Appalachian Trail, as his staff initially claimed, but in Argentina with his mistress, Maria Belen Chapur.
That Sanford attempted another run at all, given both the old scandal and fresh allegations linking him to disgraced journalist Olivia Nuzzi, tells you something about the man's appetite for public life. That he quit after barely a month tells you something about the limits of second, third, and fourth chances in Republican politics.
Sanford framed his withdrawal as a strategic calculation, not a retreat. In a self-penned article published Thursday in the Post and Courier, he argued that the national debt will "ultimately crush affordability and the American dream for the next generation" and that a grassroots organization could do more to change the incentives in Washington than another term in Congress.
Fox News reported that Sanford said in a news release:
"After a lot of thought, I've concluded that the most effective way I can contribute right now is not by seeking office, but by helping build a broader movement focused on the country's financial future."
He told the AP he envisions something like "a Turning Point USA exclusively focused on our nation's unsustainable debt," citing the NRA and AIPAC as "two of the most effective voices I saw in Washington over the years." His pitch: if those groups reshaped policy through grassroots pressure, why not build one dedicated to shrinking the federal government's footprint?
The fiscal argument is not new for Sanford. He built much of his congressional career around spending restraint. But his stated reasons for leaving the race went beyond policy. He told the Post and Courier that Donald Trump was a factor in his decision.
"He has a very long memory toward people who haven't kissed the ring. He doesn't drive this decision, but I've always been aware of that contingent liability, and it's real."
Sanford lost his congressional seat in 2018 and mounted an unsuccessful presidential primary challenge against Trump in 2019. That history, by Sanford's own account, made a comeback in a Trump-dominated GOP an uphill proposition. He also said he wanted to spend more time with his family, a phrase that, in Sanford's case, carries more freight than usual.
The Argentina affair remains the defining chapter of Sanford's public life. In June 2009, while serving as governor, Sanford vanished for days without notifying his staff, his lieutenant governor, or his family. His office told reporters he was hiking the Appalachian Trail. He was, in fact, in Argentina with Chapur. The revelation set off an impeachment inquiry and calls for his resignation. He survived both and served out his term, which ended in 2011.
His then-wife, Jenny Sanford, moved out of the governor's mansion in Columbia with their four sons and filed for divorce. Sanford later got engaged to Chapur, but called off the engagement in 2014.
The scandal did not end Sanford's career permanently. He returned to Congress, representing the same 1st District seat he now sought to reclaim. But the personal wreckage trailed him. The Associated Press noted the affair "overshadowed his governorship and stalled his political rise," becoming shorthand for political recklessness, the kind of episode that voters may forgive once but not indefinitely.
Then came the Nuzzi allegations. Former Politico journalist Ryan Lizza, Nuzzi's ex-fiancé, claimed last November that Nuzzi had been involved with Sanford years before her reported "digital affair" with Robert F. Kennedy Jr., now the Secretary of Health and Human Services. Lizza alleged that Nuzzi became "infatuated" with Sanford after profiling him for New York Magazine around the time of his 2020 presidential bid, and that she sent him "increasingly risqué pictures and texts."
Lizza also claimed to have found a love note Nuzzi allegedly wrote to "a famous politician, 32 years older than Olivia, and well-known for a sex scandal." The note, as quoted by Lizza, read: "If I swallowed every drop of water from the tower above your house, I would still thirst for you." Sanford has not publicly responded to the allegations. The Daily Mail reported it had reached out to Sanford for comment.
Whether the Nuzzi allegations played a role in Sanford's decision to withdraw is unclear. He did not cite them publicly. But the timing, filing paperwork just before the March 30 deadline and quitting roughly a month later, suggests a campaign that never found its footing. His pivot to nonprofit work came fast enough to raise questions about whether the race was ever truly viable.
Sanford's exit leaves a packed Republican primary for the June 9 contest. WCSC reported that ten other Republicans are vying for the nomination, including John McGrath, Christen Norrman, Dan Brown, Jay Byars, Logan Cunningham, Tyler Dykes, Sam McCown, Cindy Riley, Jenny Costa Honeycutt, and Alex Pelbath.
The seat opened up because incumbent Rep. Nancy Mace, who has held it since January 2021, is running for governor of South Carolina. Mace's departure created the kind of open-seat scramble that once would have been tailor-made for a former governor with name recognition and $1.3 million in the bank.
But name recognition cuts both ways. Sanford's name carries baggage that no amount of campaign cash can offset in a competitive primary. Newsmax reported that his career "was heavily damaged" by the 2009 affair, and voters in the 1st District have had plenty of time to form opinions about his judgment.
Sanford himself seemed to acknowledge the finality of his withdrawal. Asked whether this was his last campaign, he offered a characteristically self-aware answer:
"Look, if there's ever a guy who would say, 'Never say never,' it's me. But I think, realistically, yeah, and it's recognition of that being the case."
He added that "service takes different forms at different times", a line that reads less like a concession and more like a man trying to convince himself the grassroots route was the plan all along.
Sanford's career arc is a case study in how far personal scandal can stretch before it snaps. He survived the initial crisis in 2009. He won back his old House seat. He ran for president. Each time, the Argentina episode followed him like a shadow. Each time, the shadow grew a little longer.
The Nuzzi allegations added a fresh layer to a story voters thought they already knew. And the broader Republican landscape has shifted since Sanford last held office. The party's center of gravity moved, and Sanford, a fiscal hawk who publicly challenged Trump, found himself on the wrong side of the current. He is not the only Republican whose career has been upended by personal conduct, but few have tried as many times to come back from it.
The 1st District primary will proceed without him. Ten candidates will make their case to voters. And Sanford will try to build a nonprofit from the ashes of a campaign that lasted barely four weeks.
Whether his debt-focused organization materializes, or whether it becomes another chapter in a long story of unfulfilled plans, remains to be seen. The Republican bench is deep with younger figures who carry none of Sanford's baggage and all of his ambition.
At some point, a comeback stops being resilience and starts being denial. Sanford, to his credit, appears to have finally noticed the difference.
