Rhetoric and Ruin

In the realm of political rhetoric, America has long embraced spirited debate, even a measure of rough-and-tumble language, to inspire its citizens. But as we bear witness to Donald Trump’s incendiary remarks about former Congresswoman Liz Cheney, there is a vital distinction we must draw—a distinction between rhetorical invigoration and overt incitement. Trump’s ominous comments about Cheney, in which he conjures the image of “guns trained on her face,” echo a grim shift in the political landscape that ought to give us pause. Such rhetoric doesn’t just cross a line; it erases it, suggesting violence against opponents rather than a contest of ideas.

Trump’s penchant for this inflammatory language is not just incidental but habitual. This pattern of verbal pugilism has appeared in comments regarding Gen. Mark Milley, whom he casually suggested ought to be executed, and in veiled references to “Second Amendment people” taking action against Hillary Clinton. One need not look far to see that the rhetoric at his rallies skirts the edge of civil discourse; during the Capitol riot, when Trump supporters chanted “Hang Mike Pence,” Trump’s ambivalence was palpable. Taken together, these actions do not simply shock—they erode the foundation of the democratic process.

This recklessness becomes ever more dangerous in light of Trump’s long-standing claims that any electoral loss he endures is fraudulent. His worldview is built on a premise of unyielding entitlement; if he doesn’t win, the system is corrupt. And with each utterance that suggests his rivals are deserving of violence, Trump is building a narrative in which democracy only serves as long as it serves him. Should he lose in 2024, his supporters may very well see defeat as a call to arms rather than an invitation to reflect and regroup, fueling a cycle of retaliatory hostility.

Apologists may write this off as Trump’s characteristic bluster, claiming it is mere entertainment. But in public life, words are not without consequence; they carve the contours of acceptable discourse. When the head of a political movement hints that an opponent deserves a firing squad, it doesn’t remain a mere metaphor to everyone. Trump’s words, to his ardent followers, become permission slips. The myth of “harmless hyperbole” is a dangerous fiction; words, especially from those in power, shape the behavior of others and cast the moral boundaries of our society.

For the republic to sustain itself, it must uphold a standard of respect in its discourse. To reject that standard, or dismiss it as passé, is to unravel the very norms and traditions that democracy rests upon. With each incendiary comment, Trump draws us closer to a precipice, tempting us to a society where ideological differences are no longer reconciled through reasoned debate but through threats and intimidation. History warns us of the danger: once society accepts violence as part of political expression, reining it in becomes near impossible. What we normalize today only entrenches itself tomorrow.

Ultimately, this is a test of principle, not partisanship. We may disagree with Liz Cheney on countless issues, or even find her tenacious in ways that are politically polarizing, but her right to voice dissent is fundamental. For democracy to survive, we must disagree without resorting to dehumanization. When Trump insinuates that Cheney ought to face a firing squad, he undermines not just her but the very fabric of democracy. Those around him, particularly those who wield influence, would do well to remember that if we condone threats of violence, we lay the groundwork for the dismantling of democracy itself. Once that fabric unravels, re-stitching it is a feat not easily achieved.