The Problem of Free Speech
The challenge for any society that allows free speech is that free speech can itself become a problem. It often leads to contempt and division. Few topics inflame the passions of indignation and hostility faster than religion and politics. Throughout history, anger and frustration have often boiled over into violence rooted in animosity toward others' deeply held religious or political beliefs.
This hostility has existed in American history since its inception—from the Puritans’ extreme prejudice against dissenters to the horrific events of this past week with the assassination of right-wing firebrand Charlie Kirk. In moments of crisis, Americans have often turned to national leaders, hoping their guidance would calm the rhetoric and reduce the threat of further violence.
Ghosts of American Political Violence
After the 1800 election between President John Adams and his former friend and Vice President Thomas Jefferson, fears of political violence ran high. America, not yet 25 years old, had already split into two political factions—Federalists (Adams) and Democratic-Republicans (Jefferson)—despite George Washington's warnings against partisanship.
The campaign was brutal. Adams’s camp accused Jefferson of being an atheist and a “slave lover.” While Jefferson was likely neither a devout Christian nor an atheist, he did father children with Sally Hemmings, an enslaved woman. Jefferson’s supporters retaliated by claiming Adams was a hermaphrodite who provided underage prostitutes to Russian diplomats—completely false accusations.
Despite fears, the Federalists peacefully transferred power after Jefferson's victory—the first such transfer between opposing political factions. The world had rarely seen such a transition without bloodshed.
Jefferson, keenly aware of the national tension, addressed it in his inaugural speech:
“We are all Republicans, we are all Federalists... error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it.”
Jefferson not only acknowledged the political discord but also reminded Americans that political labels should never supersede our shared identity. We are a nation of laws, not of passions. We must be able to disagree—often vehemently—without turning to violence.
That held true until the political powder keg of slavery exploded.
The Civil War and Its Aftermath
After Abraham Lincoln’s election, fears of political violence again surged. Concerned about assassination plots, Lincoln was smuggled into Washington, D.C. for his inauguration, under cover of night. Soon after he took office, the Civil War erupted—America’s deadliest conflict, laying waste over 620,000 lives.
Upon his re-election, as the war neared its end, many in the North wanted to punish the South. But Lincoln viewed the South not as enemies, but as wayward family:
"With malice toward none, with charity for all... let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds..."
Lincoln's vision was one of reconciliation, not retribution. Of course he would pay with his life for that belief, becoming another victim of political violence.
All Politics (and Political Violence) Is Personal
Today, political hostility is the highest it has been since the 1960s. Social media has made it easy to dehumanize those with whom we disagree. It has become increasingly difficult to see fellow Americans simply as people with differing views and alarmingly easy to view them as enemies.
I’ve personally been the target of political threats—largely due to my role in the teachers' union and my willingness to engage in political discourse.
Between 2013 and 2015, I was a vocal critic of the newly elected conservative Republican majority on the Jefferson County School Board. Though I was then a registered Republican myself, I didn’t share their ideology. I aligned more with Eisenhower, Goldwater, and Reagan—not the brand of conservatism that would later evolve into Trumpism.
I spoke out publicly and on social media—never threatening, just critical. But that was enough. A supporter of the board began targeting me online. I was called “un-American,” a “Communist,” “fascist scum”—sometimes all in the same post, which I found somewhat humorous that I could somehow simultaneously be called a Fascist Communist. He eventually crossed the line, posting that my wife and I should have our children taken away, be arrested, and publicly executed for our “anti-American” views in front of our children.
That post triggered a police report. Officers visited him, but nothing more came of it.
There have been other instances when I was harassed or threatened for expressing my views:
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In 2018, after I was featured on the front page of the Denver Post in a story about school shootings, I received handwritten threats implying I’d be the first target during a school shooting.
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That same year, I appeared on a CNN panel of former Republicans criticizing Donald Trump. Within hours, I received hateful messages and veiled threats from people who had never met me because I had the audacity to criticize Donald Trump.
These incidents were unnerving and disheartening. That simply expressing a belief could provoke threats of violence is deeply troubling. And while those incidents didn't escalate into physical harm, the climate has worsened dramatically since then.
The New Reality of Political Violence
Today, we see actions—not just words.
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In 2020, a plot to kidnap Michigan’s Democratic governor was foiled.
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In 2022, Nancy Pelosi’s husband was bludgeoned in their home by a man seeking to kidnap and interrogate her.
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In June of this year, a Democratic Minnesota lawmaker and her husband were murdered; the suspect had a hit list of 70 judges, activists, and lawmakers.
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And last week, Charlie Kirk was shot and killed during a campus event in Utah.
I disagreed with Charlie Kirk on many issues. I found his rhetoric distasteful. But I never wished him harm—and I was appalled by those who cheered his death. Celebrating someone’s murder because of what they may say or believe is grotesque and inhuman.
The Fragile State of Civility
Civility, decency, and respect are in grave condition. Far too many Americans are repulsed by opposing viewpoints. Many retreat into ideological echo chambers, unwilling to engage, to listen, or to learn.
We cannot protest “cancel culture” while seeking to silence others.
We cannot defend free speech while working to restrict it.
We cannot call for unity while name-calling and hurling insults.
Both liberals and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans, share blame. We are all complicit in the erosion of civility when we fail to treat or see each other as fellow Americans citizens.
We must step back from the precipice were are currently toeing. We must take a breath, look around, and see one another not as enemies—but as fellow citizens. No one deserves to be harassed, threatened, or killed for what they believe or say.
If we’re to preserve our democracy and social fabric, we must rebuild the capacity for respectful disagreement and principled discussion.
Because no idea, belief, or opinion is worth more than a human life.
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