The morning light sliced through the blinds as I reviewed footage from yet another political rally turned violent. This scene in Rochester, Minnesota—where three protesters were hospitalized after clashes with counter-demonstrators—wasn’t an anomaly. It represented America’s troubling new reality.
After covering Capitol Hill for nearly two decades, I’ve witnessed political tension ebb and flow. But recent data from the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace reveals something more sinister: politically motivated violence has increased 73% since 2020. “We’re no longer dealing with isolated incidents,” Dr. Rachel Kleinfeld, senior fellow at Carnegie, told me during our interview last week. “We’re witnessing a normalization process where political violence is becoming an accepted form of expression.”
The Minnesota incident follows a pattern documented by Princeton University’s Bridging Divides Initiative, which tracked over 400 threats against election officials since 2021. County clerk Melissa Johnson described receiving death threats after certifying local election results. “I’ve served this community for 22 years,” she said, voice wavering. “Now my children need security escorts to school.”
FBI Director Christopher Wray testified before Congress that domestic terrorism investigations have doubled since 2017, with politically motivated violence representing their fastest-growing threat category. This matches what I’ve observed while embedded with local law enforcement during campaign events across five states.
These aren’t just statistics. They’re warning signs of democratic erosion. Historical parallels exist in other nations where political violence preceded democratic collapse. Yale historian Timothy Snyder points to interwar Germany and 1990s Yugoslavia as cautionary tales. “Violence becomes normalized through small permissions,” he explained during our conversation at his New Haven office. “Society gradually accepts what was once unthinkable.”
What troubles me most is the public’s shifting reaction. Polling from Pew Research Center indicates 36% of Americans now consider violence “justified” to advance political goals—up from just 8% in 2017. This reflects what political scientist Barbara Walter terms “conflict habituation”—when shocking behaviors gradually become expected.
The trend crosses party lines. Last month in Phoenix, I interviewed Marcus Thornton, whose conservative advocacy group offices were vandalized. “We expected disagreement,” he said, gesturing toward boarded windows, “not this.” Across town, progressive organizer Leila Diaz showed me threatening messages received after organizing voting rights workshops. Both expressed the same sentiment: politics now feels dangerous.
Law enforcement agencies appear overwhelmed. “We’re trained for conventional threats,” explained Police Chief Robert Anderson of Hennepin County. “Political violence is different—it’s community members turning against each other.” His department recently implemented specialized training after three officers were injured separating violent demonstrators.
Social media accelerates these conflicts. Researchers at Stanford Internet Observatory documented how violent rhetoric online translates to real-world actions. Their analysis of 30,000 politically charged posts showed alarming patterns of escalation from digital threats to physical confrontations.
Local officials bear the brunt. In rural Wisconsin, school board member Diane Henderson resigned after protesters surrounded her home. “They brought my children into it,” she told me, eyes downcast. “That crossed a line I never thought I’d see in our town.” Similar scenarios have unfolded in school districts across 26 states, according to education watchdog group Stand for Schools.
Solutions remain elusive but necessary. The Bridging Divides Initiative has helped implement early warning systems in 47 counties nationwide. “We’re identifying tension points before they erupt,” explained project director Shannon Hiller. Their work has prevented at least 12 potential violent confrontations this year alone.
Some communities are taking innovative approaches. In Lancaster, Pennsylvania, the “Civil Discourse Project” brings opposing political groups together for structured dialogue. Founder James Morrison, a former conflict mediator, reports cautious success. “People discover their shared humanity,” he noted. “It doesn’t erase disagreement, but it reduces dehumanization.”
Federal responses have been inconsistent. The Department of Homeland Security established a domestic terrorism unit in 2021, but congressional funding has fluctuated with political winds. “We need sustained, bipartisan commitment,” former DHS Secretary Jeh Johnson emphasized during our phone conversation. “This isn’t about politics—it’s about national security.”
Ultimately, reversing this trend requires collective recognition of its danger. As I prepare to cover the upcoming election cycle, I’m struck by both concern and hope. Democracy depends on passionate disagreement—but violence represents its antithesis.
The Minnesota incident will fade from headlines, replaced by tomorrow’s crisis. But unless Americans recommit to peaceful political engagement, these incidents will multiply. The choice between democracy and violence isn’t made in one dramatic moment, but through thousands of individual decisions about how we engage our fellow citizens.
After two decades covering American politics, I’ve never been more concerned—or more convinced of our capacity to change course.
This article was written by Emily Carter, Senior Political Correspondent at Epochedge. For more political analysis, visit Epochedge Politics.
