Our nation is in a dangerous moment. Political violence is no longer rare. In just the past year we have seen elected officials threatened at their homes, campaign events disrupted by violence, and even attempts on the lives of political leaders. The killing of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, the tragic death of Minnesota State Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband, the attempted assassination of then-candidate Donald Trump, and the torching of Governor Josh Shapiro’s home are reminders that this violence is escalating and that no side is immune.
These are not isolated incidents. They reflect a deeper breakdown in how we resolve our differences as a nation.
I write these words not just as an observer, but as someone who has seen political violence up close. Almost two decades ago, when I lived in Knoxville, an unemployed truck driver entered the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church and opened fire, killing two people and injuring six others before being tackled by congregants. He left a manifesto justifying his attack on the church because of its progressive values. Unable to reach the politicians in Washington he blamed, he targeted the people he could get to.
I was not there that day, but it was close to home. My wife and I had been active members of the congregation, and a pastor from the church officiated our wedding. After the shooting, we joined with friends at the memorial service struggling to comprehend such a heinous act.
That was not my only encounter with political violence. Years earlier, while leading a coalition to advance a state tax reform package, our office was doxxed. Opponents shared our address online along with a photo of our building. We received hate mail, including one package containing what appeared to be a used condom and a note telling us to go f— ourselves. We even had to call the police after receiving a voicemail threatening to “erase” a local legislative ally.
This is not the way democracy is supposed to work. We cannot allow these experiences, once seen as extreme outliers, to become the norm. We are better than this.
To move beyond this dark period in our democracy, we need a recommitment to civil debate and respect for the democratic process. But we also need practical tools to get there. Political violence, like addiction, cannot simply be willed away. It requires new habits, coping mechanisms, and healthier ways of managing our differences.
That means equipping the next generation with civics education in our schools. It means strengthening our media ecosystem and valuing fact-checked information and free speech. It means protecting independent courts and legislative transparency. It means empowering communities who have long been left out of the process by supporting nonprofits that facilitate civic participation and dialogue at the local level.
Fortunately, we already have an ecosystem of organizations dedicated to this work. At Nonprofit VOTE, where I serve as Executive Director, we help nonprofits engage the communities they serve in voting and elections. Groups like iCivics are restoring civics education in schools. Others guide nonprofits in advocacy and accountability. Initiatives like Disagree Better foster healthier dialogue across divides. Together they provide many of the tools we need to replace polarization with participation.
But moving past political violence requires more than rhetoric. It requires democratic practice. As we reject violence in all its forms, let us also commit ourselves to the harder work of listening to one another, respecting the democratic process even when we lose, and seeking solutions that benefit more than just our own side.
Democracy is not about erasing opponents. It is about building a future together. And with another heated election season approaching, the time to recommit to that principle is now.
