We are officially through the looking glass.
In the wake of the apparent attempt to assassinate Donald Trump over the weekend, the RIGHT is now accusing the LEFT of instigating stochastic terrorism against the MAGA movement. For those of you not familiar with the term, stochastic terrorism is essentially political violence that has been sparked by inflamed rhetoric directed at a movement, a segment of the population, or even an individual.
And you know what? In a sense, the right is correct. Yes, Donald Trump and the far right represent an existential threat to the founding principles of our republic. There can really be no denying this. Read about “Project 2025,” the right’s blueprint for what the next Republican Administration ought to look like, and one is driven to that single conclusion. The right’s plans for the country would destroy our nation’s unique experiment in representative democracy.
That may seem like just the sort of dangerous rhetoric Republicans are currently complaining about. I get that. But it is also true.
The problem is, political rhetoric in the United States has been so extreme for so long that we seem incapable of dialing it back. I want to say that it doesn’t matter who started it or which side has committed more atrocities in their pursuit of political dominance, but I find it hard to type the words. Even as I try to craft a plea for moderation, for tolerance, for sanity, I also want to scream from the rooftops that the other side is responsible, is more guilty, has more blood on their proverbial hands. The wounds to our society run deep, and every election cycle we pick at the scabs, drawing fresh blood and renewed pain.
We hear about new acts of violence, and our reactions are tribal. One side claims, without foundation, that the perpetrator was a member of a political group on the other side. The other side claims something similar, or tries to argue that the whole event was “a false flag.” (Yes, both sides have done these things.) We await confirmation of our biases, eager for another opportunity to score points off of someone else’s misfortune. I am as guilty of this as anyone. I hate what I see in myself in those moments.
When it comes down to it, there is blame aplenty to go around. Is it really necessary to weigh the violence of January 6, 2021 against that of July 13, 2024? Isn’t it enough to say that both were unacceptable, that both were assaults on all the values we hold dear? Every new violation breeds more hatred, more recrimination, more hostility. And the circle of violence spirals further and further beyond our control.
I wish I believed that Donald Trump was man enough to say, in the wake of the apparent attempt on his life, “Enough! From this day forward, for the good of the nation, I will abandon my extreme rhetoric. I disagree with Joe Biden and the Democrats on a host of issues, but we are all Americans, and we owe it to our country and children to discuss those differences rationally, peaceably, without threats of violence, whether implicit or explicit.”
I’m sad to say that I don’t believe he is capable of saying such a thing. Rather, I fully expect him to turn the screw again, to ratchet up tensions even more.
We are playing a perilous game of rhetorical chicken. People died as a result of January 6th. People died on Saturday. How many more need to be killed before we come to our senses? Do we really have to take our country to the brink of (another) civil conflict before we come to our senses? That would be a tragedy. Another in a long line.
Enough.
Stay safe. Have a good week.

Our girls LOVED Sewanee Fourth of July when they were young. We would give them a bit of cash, help them meet up with friends, and then pretty much say goodbye to them for the day. It’s a small, safe, friendly town, and we never worried about them. They always found us eventually, sunburned and sweaty, their faces covered in face-paint, their pockets stuffed with candy that was thrown to kids by the parade participants. We’d go home, have a nap and some dinner, not that any of us was very hungry, and then, after covering ourselves with bug spray, would make our way to the fireworks venue.
My mind has been on Title IX again over the past month, as Nancy and I (and our daughters, while we were all together in Colorado) watched the Women’s World Cup. Soccer has long been a very big deal in our household. Our daughters grew up playing, first in weekend league soccer and then through middle school and high school. Both of them were accomplished players. Both of them continue to love the sport. And so we all look forward to the World Cup — men’s and women’s — the way we look forward to holidays and birthdays.
World Cup soccer — men’s and women’s — begins with what is called group play. The field of thirty-two is divided into eight groups of four. Each group plays among themselves, three matches for each team, and they get three points for a win, one point for a draw, and none for a loss. The two teams with the best record from each group advance to the knockout stage, so called because there are no ties, and the loser of each match is knocked out of the competition.
Despite American disappointment, these developments actually constitute incredibly good news for women’s soccer around the world. Title IX paved the way for the U.S. women to become a dominant team, and in many European nations, where traditional football is THE sport, women’s teams have access to facilities and funding. But in other places this is simply not the case. The Jamaican woman faced so many financial hardships in their preparation for this year’s Cup that they literally had to rely on crowdfunding in order to participate.
In 1976, I was thirteen years old. I couldn’t vote, obviously, but I could work for candidates I liked, passing out pamphlets and such. That’s what I did in my little (at the time) moderately conservative (at the time) hometown in suburban New York. I stood on street corners in the commercial district of our village and I handed out leaflets for the Carter-Mondale ticket. “Leaders For A Change,” they read. A message that resonated after Watergate and the hapless administration of Gerald Ford.