Other Presidents Tried to Heal America After Political Violence—Trump Is Dividing It
The contrast between their and his behavior is a measure of America's moral descent
On Wednesday, Sept. 10, Charlie Kirk, the right-wing provocateur who founded Turning Point USA and focused much of his efforts on converting young Americans to MAGA politics, was killed by an assassin’s long-range shot while speaking at an event at Utah Valley University.
That same night, President Donald Trump addressed the nation in a four-minute speech that, entirely breaking with precedent and established norms of decency, called not for national unity or calm in the wake of Kirk’s heinous killing but to spread fear among Americans who differ with his politics. As Robert Tracinski noted at The UnPopulist, Trump’s address “laid the groundwork to use Kirk’s death as a pretext to crack down on his own political opponents.”
A full day before authorities learned the shooter’s identity, Trump used his presidential perch to pin the blame for this controversial figure’s death—along with other unspecified acts of “terrorism that we’re seeing in our country today”—on Kirk’s ideological enemies. Channeling hard-right sentiments proliferating on social media immediately after the shooting demanding a purge of “liberals,” “the left,” “Democrats,” and any other catch-all category, Trump settled on the term “radical left” to describe those he will target. He has repeatedly used this term for mainstream Democratic opponents like Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, so, at this stage, it is an open question as to how far-reaching his crackdown might get.
But he has already proved, yet again, that he represents a radical departure from past presidents in similar circumstances. Those presidents did not shy away from calling out the perpetrators or the destructive ideologies they stood for—but neither did they cynically seize on such occasions and use them to turbocharge a partisan crackdown on political opponents.
It is really important to understand the contrast between Trump’s behavior and those of previous presidents for two reasons: First, to get a clear measure of the extent of our moral descent. And second, to fully understand the authoritarian dangers our republic is facing.
As Cato’s Alex Nowrasteh has documented, incidents of politically motivated violence are actually few and far between. The real danger is how our authoritarian-in-chief promises to make use of such acts to go after opponents and vulnerable groups to advance his personal and political agenda and divide the country further.
This is what Trump said:
For years those on the radical left have compared wonderful Americans like Charlie to Nazis and the world’s worst mass murderers and criminals. This kind of rhetoric is directly responsible for the terrorism that we’re seeing in our country today, and it must stop right now.
My administration will find each and every one of those who contributed to this atrocity, and to other political violence, including the organizations that fund it and support it, as well as those who go after our judges, law enforcement officials, and everyone else who brings order to our country. From the attack on my life in Butler, Pennsylvania last year which killed a husband and father, to the attacks on ICE agents, to the vicious murder of a health care executive in the streets of New York, to the shooting of House Majority Leader Steve Scalise and three others, radical left political violence has hurt too many innocent people and taken too many lives.
In his selectively curated list, Trump noted the shooting of a Republican congressman eight years ago but skipped over far more recent instances of political violence, like the murder of a Democratic Minnesota legislator, the violent hammer attack of then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband (which Trump mocked on the campaign trail), and the arson attack on Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro that intended to kill him and his family while they slept.
To see the contrast, consider past presidents’ statements.
President Lyndon B. Johnson on the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968 by a racist who was deeply sympathetic to George Wallace and his segregationist agenda:
I know that every American of good will joins me in mourning the death of this outstanding leader and in praying for peace and understanding throughout this land.
We can achieve nothing by lawlessness and divisiveness among the American people. It is only by joining together and only by working together that we can continue to move toward equality and fulfillment for all of our people.
And then again after Sen. Robert F. Kennedy was shot by a Palestinian immigrant upset by his strong support for Israel:
Tonight this Nation faces once again the consequences of lawlessness, hatred, and unreason in its midst. It would be wrong, it would be self-deceptive, to ignore the connection between that lawlessness and hatred and this act of violence. …
My fellow citizens, we cannot, we just must not, tolerate the sway of violent men among us. We must not permit men who are filled with hatred, and careless of innocent lives, to dominate our streets and fill our homes with fear.
We cannot sanction the appeal to violence, no matter what its cause, no matter what the grievance from which it springs.
There is never—and I say never—any justification for the violence that tears at the fabric of our national life; that inspires such fear in peaceful citizens that they arm themselves with deadly weapons; that sets citizen against citizen or group against group.
A great nation can guarantee freedom for its people and the hope of progressive change only under the rule of law. So let us, for God’s sake, resolve to live under the law.
Let us put an end to violence and to the preaching of violence. ... I am appointing, with the recommendation of the leadership of the Congress—with whom I have talked this evening—a commission of most distinguished Americans to immediately examine this tragic phenomenon.
The commission will look into the causes, the occurrence, and the control of physical violence across this Nation, from assassination that is motivated by prejudice and by ideology, and by politics and by insanity, to violence in our cities’ streets and even in our homes.
What in the nature of our people and the environment of our society makes possible such murder and such violence?
How does it happen? What can be done to prevent assassination? What can be done to further protect public figures? What can be done to eliminate the basic causes of these aberrations?
LBJ clearly called out the ideology that had led to the brutal and despicable murder of King—racism—and RFK’s assassination—extremism. But he did not pull the Trump-equivalent move of calling for reprisals against the opponents of the Civil Rights Act or retribution against Wallace supporters after MLK’s death.
As for RFK’s murder, there are two ways LBJ could have gone wrong: He could have cracked down on Palestinians, Muslims, or immigrants to score points with supporters of Israel. Or, because he and RFK were bitter rivals who had no love lost for each other, he could have issued a bland statement and called it a day. From Trump, one would expect some combination of the two. But LBJ gave a powerful speech and convened a commission to address the problem at its roots. One can debate whether this was an effective way to deal with the issue but it was indisputably designed to tamp—not inflame—public passions.
President Bill Clinton after the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing by an anti-government, right-wing extremist.
The speculation across the political spectrum in the immediate aftermath of the Oklahoma City bombing was that the culprit was a Middle Eastern terrorist since, only two years before, one had struck the World Trade Center. But in contrast to the current occupant of the White House who instantly blamed “the radical left” before the facts were in, President Clinton urged Americans not to rush to judgment about who was responsible. He promised “swift, certain, and severe” justice but avoided assigning blame.
That was wise given that the perpetrator turned out to be a home-grown, anti-government, gun-obsessed militia that had been marinating in right-wing ideology. At a subsequent memorial ceremony for the victims, President Clinton called for national healing:
Let us teach our children that the God of comfort is also the God of righteousness. Those who trouble their own house will inherit the wind. Justice will prevail.
Let us let our own children know that we will stand against the forces of fear. When there is talk of hatred, let us stand up and talk against it. When there is talk of violence, let us stand up and talk against it. In the face of death, let us honor life. As St. Paul admonished us, let us not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good.
Clinton didn’t refrain from calling out Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh’s right-wing ideology that “threaten[s] our common peace, our freedom, our way of life.” However, he pled that we “owe those who have sacrificed” for the country “the duty to purge ourselves of the dark forces which gave rise to this evil.” In other words, he appealed to our better angels rather than further ignite our demons.
A few weeks later at a commencement address at Michigan State University, Clinton urged “Congress to pass strong antiterrorism legislation” that would “respond to this threat in ways that preserve both our security and our freedoms.” A year later, Congress obliged by enacting the Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act, giving the executive enhanced powers to designate foreign groups as terrorist organizations; allowing the use of secret evidence in deportation cases for non-citizens accused of terrorism ties; and criminalizing material support for organizations deemed as terrorist.
None of this was conducive to our freedoms, but Clinton at least worked through Congress to get his legislative agenda enacted rather than threaten to unleash his administration on political opponents, a la Trump.
President George W. Bush’s speech at the Islamic Center of Washington, D.C., six days after the 9/11 attack.
In this speech, Bush tacitly repudiated those on his own side, drawing a clean line from Islam’s alleged militancy to the most devastating terrorist attack ever pulled off on American soil. In one of the finest hours of his presidency, Bush depicted Islam as a faith of peace. He insisted that Islamic extremists were not the true representatives of their religion and Muslim Americans were not the nation’s enemies:
These acts of violence against innocents violate the fundamental tenets of the Islamic faith. And it’s important for my fellow Americans to understand that.
The English translation is not as eloquent as the original Arabic, but let me quote from the Koran, itself: “In the long run, evil in the extreme will be the end of those who do evil. For that they rejected the signs of Allah and held them up to ridicule.”
The face of terror is not the true faith of Islam. That’s not what Islam is all about. Islam is peace. These terrorists don’t represent peace. They represent evil and war.
When we think of Islam we think of a faith that brings comfort to a billion people around the world. Billions of people find comfort and solace and peace. And that’s made brothers and sisters out of every race—out of every race.
America counts millions of Muslims amongst our citizens, and Muslims make an incredibly valuable contribution to our country. Muslims are doctors, lawyers, law professors, members of the military, entrepreneurs, shopkeepers, moms and dads. And they need to be treated with respect. In our anger and emotion, our fellow Americans must treat each other with respect.
Women who cover their heads in this country must feel comfortable going outside their homes. Moms who wear cover must be not intimidated in America. That’s not the America I know. That’s not the America I value.
I’ve been told that some fear to leave; some don’t want to go shopping for their families; some don’t want to go about their ordinary daily routines because, by wearing cover, they’re afraid they’ll be intimidated. That should not and that will not stand in America.
Those who feel like they can intimidate our fellow citizens to take out their anger don’t represent the best of America, they represent the worst of humankind, and they should be ashamed of that kind of behavior.
This is a great country. It’s a great country because we share the same values of respect and dignity and human worth. And it is my honor to be meeting with leaders who feel just the same way I do. They’re outraged, they’re sad. They love America just as much as I do.
Bush, of course, went on to launch the disastrous war against Iraq in the name of replacing its tyranny with a democratically elected government, a war whose effects are still reverberating in our politics. But had he not pled for calm and stood up for Muslims in America, something one can scarcely imagine Trump ever doing, the isolated attacks on them (and those mistaken for them)—the FBI reported a 1,600% increase in hate crimes against Muslim Americans from 2000 to 2001—might have turned into something far worse and uncontrollable.
President Barack Obama’s eulogy for Rev. Clementa Pinckney who was gunned down, along with nine other Black parishioners, by a rabid white supremacist at Mother Emanuel, Charleston, S.C.’s oldest Black church in 2015:
To the families of the fallen, the nation shares in your grief. Our pain cuts that much deeper because it happened in a church. The church is and always has been the center of African-American life—a place to call our own in a too often hostile world, a sanctuary from so many hardships.
Over the course of centuries, Black churches served as “hush harbors” where slaves could worship in safety; praise houses where their free descendants could gather and shout hallelujah—rest stops for the weary along the Underground Railroad; bunkers for the foot soldiers of the Civil Rights Movement. They have been, and continue to be, community centers where we organize for jobs and justice; places of scholarship and network; places where children are loved and fed and kept out of harm’s way and told that they are beautiful and smart and taught that they matter. That’s what happens in church.
That’s what the Black church means. Our beating heart. The place where our dignity as a people is inviolate. When there’s no better example of this tradition than Mother Emanuel—a church built by Blacks seeking liberty, burned to the ground because its founder sought to end slavery, only to rise up again, a Phoenix from these ashes.
When there were laws banning all-Black church gatherings, services happened here anyway, in defiance of unjust laws. When there was a righteous movement to dismantle Jim Crow, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. preached from its pulpit, and marches began from its steps. A sacred place, this church. Not just for Blacks, not just for Christians, but for every American who cares about the steady expansion of human rights and human dignity in this country; a foundation stone for liberty and justice for all. That’s what the church meant.
We do not know whether the killer of Reverend Pinckney and eight others knew all of this history. ...
For too long, we were blind to the pain that the Confederate flag stirred in too many of our citizens. It’s true, a flag did not cause these murders. But as people from all walks of life, Republicans and Democrats, now acknowledge—including Governor Haley, whose recent eloquence on the subject is worthy of praise—as we all have to acknowledge, the flag has always represented more than just ancestral pride. For many, Black and white, that flag was a reminder of systemic oppression and racial subjugation. We see that now.
Removing the flag from this state’s capitol would not be an act of political correctness; it would not be an insult to the valor of Confederate soldiers. It would simply be an acknowledgment that the cause for which they fought—the cause of slavery —was wrong, the imposition of Jim Crow after the Civil War, the resistance to civil rights for all people was wrong.
It would be one step in an honest accounting of America’s history; a modest but meaningful balm for so many unhealed wounds. It would be an expression of the amazing changes that have transformed this state and this country for the better, because of the work of so many people of goodwill, people of all races striving to form a more perfect union. By taking down that flag, we express God’s grace.
But I don’t think God wants us to stop there. For too long, we’ve been blind to the way past injustices continue to shape the present. ...
Perhaps it causes us to examine what we’re doing to cause some of our children to hate.
Perhaps it softens hearts towards those lost young men, tens and tens of thousands caught up in the criminal justice system and leads us to make sure that that system is not infected with bias; that we embrace changes in how we train and equip our police so that the bonds of trust between law enforcement and the communities they serve make us all safer and more secure.
Maybe we now realize the way racial bias can infect us even when we don’t realize it, so that we’re guarding against not just racial slurs, but we’re also guarding against the subtle impulse to call Johnny back for a job interview but not Jamal. So that we search our hearts when we consider laws to make it harder for some of our fellow citizens to vote. By recognizing our common humanity by treating every child as important, regardless of the color of their skin or the station into which they were born, and to do what’s necessary to make opportunity real for every American—by doing that, we express God’s grace. ...
None of us can or should expect a transformation in race relations overnight. Every time something like this happens, somebody says we have to have a conversation about race. We talk a lot about race. There’s no shortcut. And we don’t need more talk. None of us should believe that a handful of gun safety measures will prevent every tragedy. It will not. ...
Reverend Pinckney once said, “Across the South, we have a deep appreciation of history—we haven’t always had a deep appreciation of each other’s history.” What is true in the South is true for America. Clem understood that justice grows out of recognition of ourselves in each other. That my liberty depends on you being free, too. That history can’t be a sword to justify injustice, or a shield against progress, but must be a manual for how to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past—how to break the cycle. A roadway toward a better world.
That reservoir of goodness. If we can find that grace, anything is possible. If we can tap that grace, everything can change. Amazing grace. Amazing grace. Amazing grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me; I once was lost, but now I’m found; was blind but now I see.
President Obama’s speech was part personal and part political, calling out the deep-seated racism in America that was holding back its Black population while making the case for removing the Confederate flag and enacting criminal justice reform and tougher gun laws. It was heart-wrenching and hard-hitting. He knew some of his ideas and proposals would be controversial. But he offered them in the spirit of changing hearts and minds, not imposing punishment and retribution on the dissenters, no matter how wrong they are in this case. He didn’t threaten to unleash the wrath of the federal government on those who still hung the Confederate flag or prepare to send the equivalent of ICE teams to every gun owner’s house to ensure that their weapon had proper documentation and then threaten to go after those who spoke out against such raids.
Had Trump followed in the footsteps of his predecessors and mourned Kirk’s death, condemned the killer, reminded anyone allegedly celebrating the assassination that disagreement ought not to be settled by bullets and left it at that, he’d have defused tensions and brought the country together. But that’s not Trump—and even writing this seems silly, especially since he is already following his words with actions and unleashing a full-blown retribution agenda.
His crackdown has already begun with his secretary of defense purging service-members whose reaction to Kirk’s killing is outside the acceptable line. His vice president is going even further and promising to strip the non-profit status of organizations that have ever funded voices against Kirk and Turning Point USA. Meanwhile, his attorney general is providing legal cover for all of this by frighteningly and erroneously declaring that there is a “hate speech” carve-out to the First Amendment. So much for freedom of speech and opposing cancel culture.
What Trump and his administration rapidly understood is that they could seize and weaponize an episode like this to further an objective that they have been pursuing since Jan. 20: a draconian crackdown to silence political opponents.
© The UnPopulist, 2025
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Bill Clinton definitely used the Oklahoma City bombing as a tool against the Republican Congress. But his use was rhetorical, which was unfair and annoying but not dangerous the way Trump-style vengeance is.
After years of trying to excuse or ignore the left’s perhaps some folks just decide not to take it anymore.