Note: This piece draws on insights from the panel discussion held during the R Street Institute’s virtual event “Fragile Republic: Lessons on Political Violence from the Founding to Today.”

Americans today increasingly describe the country as divided, dysfunctional, and drifting toward crisis. Political opponents are no longer merely mistaken—they are viewed as existential threats. And the majority of Americans believe political polarization is worse today than it was five years ago. In fact, “polarization” was Merriam-Webster’s 2024 Word of the Year, reflecting the growing belief that our nation is fracturing.

But what distinguishes today’s polarization is not just that Americans disagree—it is an attitude that accelerates the acceptance of violence as a possible response.

This growing sentiment has been fueled by high-profile tragedies, such as the assassination of political activist Charlie Kirk, the murder of a Minnesota state legislator and her husband, and the attempted assassinations of President Donald J. Trump, among others. According to the U.S. Capitol Police, the number of threats or concerning statements targeting members of Congress, their families, and staff has more than doubled in the past seven years, with 9,474 reported in 2024 alone—marking the second consecutive annual increase. More than one-third of election officials know someone who resigned (at least in part) due to safety concerns, and local leaders across the country are reporting elevated threats as well. Unsurprisingly, most Americans believe political violence is up and expect it to continue to grow. More concerning, a growing number of Americans say they “may have to resort to political violence to get the country back on track.”

Of course, political violence is not new to America. In the 18th and 19th centuries, acts like duels were rooted in a shared culture of honor, and congressional canings often arose in the heat of the moment over political disputes. In the 1960s and 1970s, political violence was more organized and typically tied to specific movements like civil rights or anti-war, where violence was used to advance defined policy goals.

But violence no longer appears to advance a political agenda. Instead, it is impulsive, attention seeking, or crisis-driven—and far from culturally accepted.

What Americans mean by “political violence” is increasingly unclear. The phrase has become shorthand for nearly any shocking public attack, from targeted assassinations to mass shootings to online death threats. Some incidents may indeed be political; however, political violence remains rare. Regardless, this type of atypical violence is more prevalent now than at any point in recent memory and cannot be ignored.

Not only does mislabeling violent acts as politically motivated inflate public fear, it also obscures a deeper reality: rising rage against society itself.

This rage operates in a vacuum of political purpose, driven by alienation, instability, psychological distress, or a desire to be seen rather than any belief or cause. In these cases, violence becomes expression rather than advocacy. Attacks now occur in public spaces once considered safe, including schools, parks, courthouses, and civic forums. Some perpetrators invoke partisan language, while others profess no cause at all.

Robin Westman, who was arrested for opening fire during a school mass at a Catholic church in Minneapolis, killing two children and injuring others, posted violent rhetoric online and referenced various hate groups. Yet investigators found no consistent ideological affiliation. Instead, Westman’s digital footprint reflected a chaotic mix of grievances and psychological distress.

Similarly, Thomas Matthew Crooks, who attempted to assassinate President Trump at a Pennsylvania rally, left behind no manifesto and had no known ties to any extremist organizations. According to the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), Crooks acted alone. Although his motive remains unclear, his online posts in the days leading up to the shooting hinted at a desire for visibility rather than any political cause.

Earlier this year, the FBI introduced a new classification—nihilistic violent extremist—to describe actors who pursue chaos or fame rather than coherent ideology. Although these individuals may occasionally adopt the vocabulary of political movements, they are not driven by them. The rhetoric is performative rather than purposeful—an evolution that signals a broader challenge.

Policymakers cannot treat nihilism as if it were an ideology and expect to understand, much less prevent, these attacks. Treating every act of public violence as political obscures the underlying causes and distorts policy responses. It is also important to resist viewing this violence as the core problem, as it may actually be a symptom of a deeper dysfunction: growing rage against a society that feels unresponsive or indifferent.

However, those covertly encouraging or inciting such acts may be driven by political or financial gain.

The internet has become both a mirror and a multiplier of America’s rage. A growing ecosystem of content creators and dark money now profits from enraging audiences, peddling “rage bait” designed to provoke and outrage its intended audience. This content often exaggerates threats, vilifies groups, or stokes moral panic, earning revenue through clicks, shares, and subscriptions. Within these online spaces, tactics like doxxing and coordinated call-outs or canceling have become normalized, exposing individuals to reputational risk at best and death threats at worst.

And even more insidious dynamics are unfolding on those platforms. For example, the FBI recently disclosed over 250 open investigations into a loosely connected network of violent actors who manipulate adolescents into escalating patterns of animal abuse, self-harm, and suicide. These predators operate by building trust with teenagers on mainstream platforms and then coercing them into acts of violence for entertainment or blackmail.

Even when online actors do not directly incite violence, the digital applause that follows attacks makes violence seem meaningful to would-be offenders and signals a breakdown in shared civic norms. Siloed online networks now function as cheering sections that legitimize and even glorify violent acts. Group polarization intensifies rapidly within these homogeneous digital spaces. Members validate one another’s most extreme views, and the absence of dissent drives them further toward the margins. Even small online communities can give violent acts outsized symbolic power, providing the kind of validation and attention that offenders increasingly seek.

These trends reflect a deeper erosion of the civic culture that once helped stabilize American politics. For much of the country’s history, Americans have maintained high levels of civic engagement, participating in clubs, church groups, community organizations, civic associations, and local institutions. This “social capital”—networks, norms, and trust—functioned as the foundation for a stable political culture.

That stabilizing force feels diminished today. Rising institutional distrust, civic pessimism, and a weakening sense of shared obligation have created fertile ground for both extremism and nihilism. In this sense, the violence we see today is less an isolated problem than a symptom of a broader breakdown in the civic commitments that make our democratic form of self-government possible.

As the nation approaches its 250th anniversary, it is worth remembering that the founding was not a period of perfect harmony, but a reminder that democracy survives only through constant upkeep. The throughline in American history has not been uninterrupted unity, but a continual effort to repair and recommit to the promises of democratic self-government. At a moment when polarization and nihilism threaten that foundation, renewing our civic commitment—rooted in dignity, restraint, and a shared investment in our institutions—offers the clearest path out of the anger and fragmentation that define the present.

The Path Forward

Understand that while conflict is inevitable in a pluralistic society, violence is a choice. Disagreement may be unavoidable in a diverse democracy, but resorting to violence is not. While rare, political and random violence are growing concerns with serious consequences. Treating them abstractly or ignoring them signals indifference and weakens public trust. Leaders and communities must clearly reject violence as a form of political expression.

Condemn violence without qualification. We must condemn acts of violence without equivocation, as saying “but” after only rationalizes the harm. Normalizing even small exceptions sends the message that violence is acceptable if one feels strongly enough or feels they have been wronged enough.

Reaffirm that speech is not violence and should not be responded to with violence. Words can offend, provoke, or even harm reputations, but they are not the same as physical violence. While reckless or offensive speech should be called out, it does not and cannot warrant retaliatory violence. Equating speech with violence blurs the line between words and actions and slowly diminishes the freedom of expression. We need to reestablish the principle that the response to speech is more speech—not force.

Rebuild civic culture that values dignity over contempt. A culture that treats disagreement with dignity and curiosity rather than contempt can defuse grievances before they turn destructive. Americans must make a deliberate effort to engage positively with people who hold different views. Our political leaders, institutions, and media voices must model this behavior.

Disrupt rage bait and its amplifiers. The problem is not just the violent actor, but the digital communities that validate and reward their actions. Many platforms and content creators profit from division, as outrage fuels engagement. Social media companies, creators, and users should lead a shift toward models that reward meaningful connection over manufactured outrage.

Shift leadership norms and expectations. Current political incentives reward outrage over integrity and performance over problem solving. Leadership should reflect moral clarity, a commitment to the whole country, and the ability to engage across divides without resorting to tribalism. Voters and institutions must begin to value those who seek to repair, not inflame.

Rebuild social capital and community ties. Americans must strengthen and engage in local institutions—schools, civic groups, faith communities, volunteer networks—that build trust, belonging, and shared norms. Renewing these community bonds reduces alienation and helps inoculate against extremism and nihilism.

The Criminal Justice and Civil Liberties program focuses on public policy reforms that prioritize public safety as well as due process, fiscal responsibility, and individual liberty.