In the high-stakes, unforgiving world of Washington D.C., some conversations are destined to remain behind closed doors. They are part of an unspoken code, a set of unwritten rules understood only by those who have served in the political trenches. So, when asked what advice she, a former press secretary for President George W. Bush, gave to President Donald Trump’s current national press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, Dana Perino’s response was both immediate and revealing: “I always keep my advice to press secretaries private.” That single sentence peels back the curtain on one of the most exclusive and demanding clubs in the world—the small fraternity of individuals who have stood at the White House podium, tasked with speaking for the most powerful person on the planet.

This isn’t just a polite refusal to comment; it’s a testament to a bond that transcends partisan lines. The role of the White House press secretary is a crucible, a unique position of immense pressure, public scrutiny, and unrelenting demands. Those who have held it share a common experience that outsiders can never fully comprehend. Perino’s discretion signals a deep, abiding respect for the role and for the person currently navigating its treacherous waters. While the specific words of wisdom remain a secret, her public praise for Leavitt speaks volumes, painting a portrait of a new guard that, while different in style, has earned the admiration of the old guard.

Perino hails from a different era of political communication, a time she herself notes was devoid of the social media maelstrom that defines today’s landscape. “In January 2009 when I left the White House, I didn’t have a Twitter account. I didn’t have a Facebook account,” she remarked. Her tenure was defined by the traditional rhythms of the daily press briefing, a structured, often contentious, but fundamentally professional exchange with the established White House press corps. The job was to shape the narrative through legacy media outlets. It was a formidable challenge, but one with a recognizable rulebook.

Enter Karoline Leavitt. Described by Perino’s own mother as a “real pistol,” Leavitt operates on a completely different battlefield. She serves a president who has fundamentally redefined the relationship between the White House and the media. In her role, the press briefing room is just one of many fronts in a larger information war. The primary objective is often to bypass the traditional media gatekeepers entirely, communicating directly with the public through social media, rallies, and friendly media ecosystems. Leavitt’s job requires a different skill set—not just poise under pressure, but a pugnacious, unwavering loyalty that has, at times, put her at odds with the press corps. Reports of her team refusing to answer inquiries from reporters who use pronouns in their email signatures or moves to curtail media access are indicative of this new, more combative approach.

Yet, this is precisely where Perino’s praise becomes so insightful. She describes Leavitt as a “fierce loyalist,” adding, “you probably want her on your side, I would say.” This isn’t a criticism of Leavitt’s methods; it’s a veteran’s acknowledgment of what the modern job requires. In today’s hyper-partisan environment, the role of a press secretary has evolved from mere spokesperson to frontline brand defender. Loyalty isn’t just a virtue; it’s the paramount job qualification. Perino recognizes that Leavitt is executing the game plan her president demands, and she’s doing it effectively.

Beyond the political strategy, Perino offered a deeply humanizing perspective on Leavitt, one that speaks to the personal sacrifices the job demands. “I really admire her too, as a young mom and trying to figure all of that out, because it’s an all-consuming job, and she does it quite well,” Perino shared. This comment cuts through the political noise, reminding us that behind the podium and the talking points are people navigating immense personal challenges. The job of a press secretary is not 9-to-5. It is a 24/7 commitment that puts immense strain on personal and family life. Perino’s admiration highlights a shared struggle that has nothing to do with policy or party, and everything to do with the universal challenge of balancing a demanding career with family.

Perino’s final compliment—”She always has a smile, and I think that helps her, and it definitely helps (Trump)”—is perhaps the most telling. In a role that involves constant conflict and criticism, the ability to project confidence and positivity is not just a personality trait; it’s a strategic asset. A smile can be a shield, a tool to de-escalate tension, and a signal of unwavering resolve. It communicates that despite the chaos of the news cycle, the administration is steady and in control.

So while the world may never know the exact advice that passed between these two women, the story itself reveals a more profound truth. It shows that even in a deeply divided America, there are still spaces where mutual respect and shared experience can bridge the ideological gap. Dana Perino, the seasoned veteran from a bygone era, looks at Karoline Leavitt, the young pistol of the new age, and sees not a political adversary, but a peer. She sees a capable, intelligent, and resilient woman excelling in one of the world’s most difficult jobs. The private advice is a symbol of that respect—a passing of the torch, a gesture of solidarity within the exclusive club of those who have dared to speak for a president.