America the Violent

Coming to grips with dark realities (and countering them)

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

When I was younger, it ticked me off to hear people say, “America is a violent country.” I was especially ticked to hear Europeans say this. It got my back up. It put me on the defensive—and the offensive.

“Oh, really? And how about your blood-soaked continent? You have been doing practically nothing but warring for centuries. And how about the two world wars, in which you involved us, thank you very much? Where did the Holocaust occur, by the way? Don’t talk to me about violence.”

There came a time when I simply had to accept: It’s true. America is a violent country. You would have to be dense not to see this.

I grant you that the story of man is a story of violence, to a considerable degree. People have been beating, raping, and killing one another since the beginning. There has been homicide, parricide, fratricide, regicide ...

“Et tu, Brute?”

But let me type for a minute or two about my own country.

Our greatest president—greatest citizen?—was murdered 42 days into his second term.

Later, Garfield, and McKinley. Theodore Roosevelt—the former president who had been McKinley’s vice president—was shot but not killed while campaigning in 1912.

President Kennedy was murdered the day after I was born. Two days later, the murderer was murdered.

Five years later came 1968, that annus horribilis: MLK, RFK. I do not remember those assassinations. In 1972, while campaigning in Maryland, George Wallace was shot and crippled. I don’t remember that either.

I certainly remember the two attempts on President Ford’s life. As for the shooting of Reagan in 1981, that had a significant effect on my political development. (We might save that story for another time, and besides, it is one I have told in the past.)

When I was in college, the Irish Republican Army tried to kill Prime Minister Thatcher in a hotel in Brighton. They missed her, but killed five others, and injured about 30. Later that month, Indira Gandhi was assassinated. (Seven years later, her son Rajiv was also assassinated.)

In the summer of 2024, Donald Trump was almost killed by a would-be assassin, who, in the attempt, killed someone else.

“They tried to kill him,” some people said. “They tried to kill Trump.” “They”? Or “he”? That is an old question. When a Democrat is targeted, some people say, “The Republicans did this!” When a Republican is targeted, some people say, “The Democrats did this!”

Immediately after the killing of JFK, there was speculation that this had been the work of right-wingers. Right-wingers in Texas, in particular. When it became clear that the killer was left-wing, one Democrat was quoted as saying, “Now our grief can be pure.”

This is only human, I suppose.

Let me return to Lincoln. He was killed by an individual. But that individual was part of a conspiracy, true. And is it not also true that millions of Americans, or “Americans,” applauded the act, or at least did not disapprove?

In 2011, a congresswoman, Gabby Giffords, was shot and almost murdered. In 2017, another member of Congress, Steve Scalise, was shot. For those keeping score, the former is a Democrat and the latter a Republican.

“Pizzagate” is a bizarre chapter in our bizarre era. There was—is?—a conspiracy theory that high-level Democrats were running a child-rape ring out of a pizzeria in Washington, D.C.: a place called “Comet Ping Pong.”

Lots of people believed it, including a man in North Carolina—who went up to D.C. and shot up the pizzeria. Luckily, no one was killed.

In 2020, some men toted weapons in the gallery of the Michigan legislature. They did not look like they were protecting themselves; they looked like they were trying to intimidate the lawmakers below—some of whom wore bulletproof vests.

Ought this to be in America?

Election officials had to get personal protection in late 2020—these included Brad Raffensperger in Georgia and Stephen Richer in Arizona. (Of Raffensperger, President Trump had said, “He’s an enemy of the people.” This was on Thanksgiving Day in the White House.)

There was the orgy of violence on January 6th.

In 2022, the husband of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi was almost murdered. There was a lot of sniggering about that.

Mike Gallagher (R., Wis.) quit Congress, and so did Anthony Gonzalez (R., Ohio). Both were in their thirties. Threats to themselves and their families were a factor in their decisions.

In a 2023 column, I quoted Spencer Cox, the governor of Utah, who had been asked at a press conference about threats to Mitt Romney and other politicians. “Look, guys,” he said, “I’m not usually prone to hyperbole,” but our country is “headed down a very dark path, and we’re further down that path than I think most people realize.”

He continued,

There is a very real chance over the next couple of decades of a complete failure of our democratic institutions. Of our republic. I take that very seriously. If we don’t wake up as a society, and if we don’t stop playing with fire—stop the hatred that we’re exhibiting toward our fellow Americans with whom we have some disagreements—we could end up in a very dark place.

My comment:

If I had my way, everyone in America—left, right, and center—would come down on violence, and the threat of violence, like a ton of bricks.

What else? Oh, so much. Last June, a Minnesota lawmaker and her husband were shot to death in their home. Another lawmaker and his wife were shot, too, but survived.

Violence, violence, all around us: “political” and otherwise. The school shootings continue apace. They are now as normal as the Pledge of Allegiance—maybe more so. There was another one, in Minneapolis, two weeks ago. Barely remembered now.

Sometimes a murder gains national attention—like the murder of a young Ukrainian woman in Charlotte, N.C., on August 22. At the murderer, there is outrage. (More, I believe, than at the murderer of many more Ukrainians in Ukraine—namely, Vladimir Putin.)

I could go on. But, obviously, I am leading up to the murder of Charlie Kirk—a sickening event, a horrifying crime, one that has had a national effect. Is it too much to say that evil stalks our land? It is not too much to say, in my opinion.

Allow something personal—a little bit personal. A lot of us travel to colleges, to speak about politics. This is what Charlie Kirk had done, in Utah. I myself spoke at two Utah colleges last year. When I heard the news about the murder, I was returning from a college in Ohio.

Obviously, I do not attract the attention, or the controversy, that Kirk did. But a few of my friends do.

I am pretty good at identifying problems and decrying them. Okay. But can I propose anything in the way of a solution? I will give it a quick try.

Set a good example. “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.” Refrain from supporting demagogues—fomenters of malice and division. Honor people who appeal to “better angels,” rather than worse ones. Stop glorifying the violent: mafiosi, the Tate brothers, the “hottie” killer of Brian Thompson, the health-care executive. Refuse to accept “new normals” that are bad; strive to make them “abnormals,” in any way possible.

All for now. Bless you.