Fury at the Table: Leftist Activists Disrupt Bessent’s Quiet Dinner

Paul Riverbank, 12/19/2025Activists confront Treasury Secretary at dinner, spotlighting fierce debate over U.S. foreign sanctions.

DiNucci’s voice, cutting through clatter, declared, “We want to make an announcement! We have a special guest here, and we want to make a toast for the Secretary of the Treasury, Scott Bessent!” Her message was far from celebratory. Within moments, the restaurant’s usual background din gave way to pointed accusations about “economic warfare,” as she laid direct blame on Bessent for U.S. sanctions she says are responsible for widespread suffering abroad. Citing a Lancet report, she went as far as linking American policy to an annual death toll nearing 600,000—attributable, she said, to blockades on essentials like food and medicine in countries such as Iran and Venezuela.

Bessent, for his part, didn’t keep his reaction private. Lifting his glass, he called out, “You are ignorant, and you have no idea how ignorant you are.” It drew a mixture of reactions; some in the room matched his boo, others sat stone-faced, and a handful shot sideways glances indicating that, whatever their feelings about sanctions, this was certainly not what they’d signed up for over pasta.

Staff seemed unwilling—or perhaps unsure—how to intervene. DiNucci continued her speech; after a terse exchange, Bessent requested that the restaurant manager ask the protestor to leave. When no action was taken, he gathered his things and exited, visibly unhappy. Later, an acquaintance familiar with Bessent’s perspective quipped that he left because the restaurant "refused to respect other diners and remove the heckler in question.” They added, perhaps with a degree of salt, “Also, the food sucked.”

This very public confrontation is not out of character for Washington these days. CODEPINK, for example, has a reputation for grabbing the limelight—often appearing at major press conferences and congressional hearings. Their protests are as regular on Capitol Hill as they are on city sidewalks, and their message rarely wavers: U.S. foreign policy, they argue, often translates to suffering abroad. Their activism, too, draws scrutiny. The organization lays claim to “feminist, grassroots” origins and is open about controversial sources of funding, such as Chinese billionaire Neville Singham, whose wife is a co-founder. Their actions have, at times, angered both their targets and unaffiliated onlookers alike.

This isn’t Bessent’s first brush with rowdy opposition outside the office. Not long ago, at another D.C. haunt—Butterworth’s—the secretary weathered a protest involving strobe lights and a sound system more at home at a club than a policy roundtable. According to chef Bart Hutchins, such disturbances had become almost routine.

There’s little question that the larger issues debated at these dinners—sanctions, foreign policy, global suffering—are deeply divisive, even if they rarely make their way into the evening meal. Some diners, overheard as they departed Reveler’s Hour, muttered that the protest crossed a line, intruding on private moments in public spaces. Others felt differently, arguing that officials who wield enormous influence over the lives of millions should not expect insulation from direct challenge, even if voiced over dessert.

The ripple effects of these encounters aren’t easily contained. In a city where policy is often hammered out behind closed doors or sanitized briefing rooms, confrontations like this one serve as a reminder: for all the power flowing through Washington’s marble halls, its political arguments have a way of spilling out—sometimes right onto the table where the steak is being sliced. At a moment when the divide over sanctions and their consequences has rarely been sharper, it remains an open question whether public protests in such spaces build bridges or deepen rifts. Either way, on this night in Adams Morgan, the barriers between public accountability and private routine seemed thinner than ever.

On what was supposed to be an unremarkable Wednesday night in Adams Morgan, Washington, the evening ambiance at Reveler's Hour took a dramatic turn. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, a familiar face in the corridors of federal power, found his quiet dinner plans abruptly disrupted. As waitstaff weaved through a full house, CODEPINK's Olivia DiNucci—a name well-circulated in local activist circles—stood up, glass in hand. The clinking sound silenced some, but many diners seemed uncertain, forks pausing mid-air.DiNucci’s voice, cutting through clatter, declared, “We want to make an announcement! We have a special guest here, and we want to make a toast for the Secretary of the Treasury, Scott Bessent!” Her message was far from celebratory. Within moments, the restaurant’s usual background din gave way to pointed accusations about “economic warfare,” as she laid direct blame on Bessent for U.S. sanctions she says are responsible for widespread suffering abroad. Citing a Lancet report, she went as far as linking American policy to an annual death toll nearing 600,000—attributable, she said, to blockades on essentials like food and medicine in countries such as Iran and Venezuela.Bessent, for his part, didn’t keep his reaction private. Lifting his glass, he called out, “You are ignorant, and you have no idea how ignorant you are.” It drew a mixture of reactions; some in the room matched his boo, others sat stone-faced, and a handful shot sideways glances indicating that, whatever their feelings about sanctions, this was certainly not what they’d signed up for over pasta.Staff seemed unwilling—or perhaps unsure—how to intervene. DiNucci continued her speech; after a terse exchange, Bessent requested that the restaurant manager ask the protestor to leave. When no action was taken, he gathered his things and exited, visibly unhappy. Later, an acquaintance familiar with Bessent’s perspective quipped that he left because the restaurant "refused to respect other diners and remove the heckler in question.” They added, perhaps with a degree of salt, “Also, the food sucked.”This very public confrontation is not out of character for Washington these days. CODEPINK, for example, has a reputation for grabbing the limelight—often appearing at major press conferences and congressional hearings. Their protests are as regular on Capitol Hill as they are on city sidewalks, and their message rarely wavers: U.S. foreign policy, they argue, often translates to suffering abroad. Their activism, too, draws scrutiny. The organization lays claim to “feminist, grassroots” origins and is open about controversial sources of funding, such as Chinese billionaire Neville Singham, whose wife is a co-founder. Their actions have, at times, angered both their targets and unaffiliated onlookers alike.This isn’t Bessent’s first brush with rowdy opposition outside the office. Not long ago, at another D.C. haunt—Butterworth’s—the secretary weathered a protest involving strobe lights and a sound system more at home at a club than a policy roundtable. According to chef Bart Hutchins, such disturbances had become almost routine.There’s little question that the larger issues debated at these dinners—sanctions, foreign policy, global suffering—are deeply divisive, even if they rarely make their way into the evening meal. Some diners, overheard as they departed Reveler’s Hour, muttered that the protest crossed a line, intruding on private moments in public spaces. Others felt differently, arguing that officials who wield enormous influence over the lives of millions should not expect insulation from direct challenge, even if voiced over dessert.The ripple effects of these encounters aren’t easily contained. In a city where policy is often hammered out behind closed doors or sanitized briefing rooms, confrontations like this one serve as a reminder: for all the power flowing through Washington’s marble halls, its political arguments have a way of spilling out—sometimes right onto the table where the steak is being sliced. At a moment when the divide over sanctions and their consequences has rarely been sharper, it remains an open question whether public protests in such spaces build bridges or deepen rifts. Either way, on this night in Adams Morgan, the barriers between public accountability and private routine seemed thinner than ever.