Political violence and rhetoric is all too American
When President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963, Malcolm X characterized the killing as “chickens coming home to roost.” In response, Nation of Islam leader Elijah Muhammad forbade his protege from public speaking for 90 days.
Malcolm X’s words were interpreted as mocking and gleeful as the country mourned. Americans didn’t want to hear about chickens roosting. After his suspension, the civil rights leader clarified he was not glad Kennedy was killed and insisted his words were distorted. Chickens coming home to roost referred to Kennedy’s assassination as a result of a climate of hate, Malcolm X said.
This came to mind after Donald Trump was injured in the ear by a gunman last weekend while campaigning for president in Pennsylvania. Malcolm was asking us to have an honest conversation about the reality of American political violence. None of us — not even American presidents — is immune.
In the decades since, violent rhetoric has intensified and made an unholy alliance with good ole American gun worship. This toxic cocktail has terrorized the public and immobilized our leaders. They can't even speak it, let alone act on it.
Instead, we got a MAGA victory lap for their bloodied hero whose supporters hail as a martyr. A moment of bipartisan bliss disavowing the shooting. What rose above the froth were platitudes about violence.
President Joe Biden said in a prime-time address on Sunday: “There is no place in America for this kind of violence — for any violence. Ever. Period. No exception. We can’t allow this violence to be normalized.” Illinois Gov. J.B. Prtizker said: “Violence is never the answer in our democracy.” Former President Barack Obama posted on X: There is absolutely no place for political violence in our democracy.
A string of examples: Violence is not the exception
I don’t want to live in a society where political candidates or leaders are targeted by snipers. No one does. It’s scary. But violence is already normalized and is as ritualized as a cup of morning coffee.
Violence and democracy are linked — from the founding of this country with the theft of indigenous land to everyday gun violence. The lie of American exceptionalism lulls us into denial. We tell ourselves we are different and better.
We don’t have to look back to history for lessons on violence. Let’s go back to the last presidential race. On Jan. 6, 2021, armed insurrectionists stormed the Capitol because they couldn’t accept Trump’s defeat to Biden. Trump couldn’t accept the loss either, and his words emboldened attackers.
Let’s go back a little farther to 2011, when former U.S. Rep. Gabby Giffords, a Democrat, suffered a brain injury after being shot in a political attack. In 2017, U.S. Rep. Steve Scalise, a Republican, was shot on a baseball field. In 2022, a man broke into U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's home and clubbed her husband with a hammer.
Earlier this year, the Brennan Center for Justice released the results of national surveys about the rise of intimidation of state and local officeholders, across political affiliations. More than 40% of state legislators experienced threats or attacks within the past three years.
These incidents dovetail with our gun lifestyle. The love of weaponry is anchored in the mythology of this country. According to the Gun Violence Archive, a nonprofit that tracks shootings, there were 656 mass shootings in 2023. In 2014, there were 272.
We know the script after high-profile mass shootings. Perfunctory thoughts and prayers. Next comes calls for federal gun reform. When a gunman killed those little children at Sandy Hook Elementary School in 2012 and change didn’t happen, I knew this country would stay tethered to the Second Amendment.
The young man who aimed at Trump used an AR-15 rifle, the type of assault weapon used in numerous mass shootings around the country. A federal ban on assault weapons was enacted in 1994 but expired in 2004, and numerous attempts in Congress to pass a new ban have failed. The powerful National Rifle Association chafes at those attempts.
Meanwhile, Illinois passed an assault weapon ban that took effect this year, a response to the July 4, 2022, mass shooting in suburban Highland Park. Just this month, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear a challenge to the ban.
But after Trump’s shooting, the GOP isn’t talking about guns; they are talking about rhetoric. There’s no gun epidemic problem in their eyes. No sense of irony. Any critique of the fragility of the current state of democracy is deflected with calls to tamp down on vitriolic language in politics — but not from their presidential nominee.
If Sandy Hook didn’t change Republicans, I didn’t think an assassination attempt on Trump would either. By the way, in 2016, Trump on the presidential campaign trail suggested “Second Amendment people” could stop his opponent Hillary Clinton. In this campaign, Trump uses violent language.
The U.S. is largely unserious about gun reform, no matter if the victims are elected officials or Chicago residents. Trump’s bandaged ear is a symbol he walks around with as if a Purple Heart. He matches that energy by fist pumping and mouthing “fight.”
Democrats and Republicans may say political violence has no place in this country, but it’s fully American. We are fooling ourselves to think otherwise. That’s what Malcolm X was trying to tell us.
Natalie Y. Moore is the Race, Class & Communities editor at WBEZ.
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