NC Democrat’s protest post was awful, but the response is exhausting | Opinion

No serious person is defending the image Rep. Julie von Haefen shared on social media: a bloodied guillotine, a Trump mask, and the caption “some cuts may be necessary.” It was tasteless and inflammatory, especially in a climate where actual violence against elected officials is tragically real.

But the response it triggered may be just as revealing.

Republican leaders were right to take the moment seriously. They reacted swiftly and firmly — and given the context, they had every reason to. But the episode quickly morphed into something else: a familiar, exhausting ritual that says more about the state of our politics than it does about one lawmaker’s judgment.

The expectation now is that every party leader must issue a statement. That every colleague must denounce or distance themselves. That silence is complicity, and restraint is weakness. Outrage isn’t just common — it’s required.

The tables turned

It’s understandable why Republicans are taking this approach. For years, they’ve lived under the same pressure. When former Lt. Gov. Mark Robinson made incendiary remarks, or when superintendent candidate Michele Morrow referenced a public execution, Democrats didn’t just criticize, they built entire campaigns around the rhetoric. GOP candidates were expected to condemn or be held accountable by proxy.

Now the roles are reversed. Some conservatives see a strategic opening: match the tactic, blunt its edge. If both sides are constantly accusing the other of moral collapse, maybe the outrage loses its sting.

There’s a certain logic to that. But it feels like mutually assured destruction.

The more outrage becomes the tool for policing politics, the less meaning it holds. We don’t weaken the weapon, we normalize it. And once everything becomes a crisis, it’s harder to respond when something truly is.

Von Haefen’s post deserved criticism. But her response — deleting the video, acknowledging the mistake — should count for something. Not every error demands a resignation. If we can’t tell the difference between a lapse in judgment and a career-ending offense, we lose the ability to lead with perspective.

A broader pattern

This isn’t just about one incident. The expectation that every politician must comment on every controversy in their party has become exhausting. It encourages grandstanding, not leadership. It rewards performative condemnation and punishes discretion. And it turns social media slip-ups into the dominant currency of political debate.

Part of what makes this cycle so corrosive is that it makes quiet accountability feel invisible. We’ve come to expect press releases and viral outrage. But sometimes, the more responsible response happens offstage: a conversation, a phone call, a course correction that doesn’t need to be broadcast.

That doesn’t mean looking the other way. It means recognizing that not every mistake needs to be part of a political production. And sometimes, giving someone the room to correct themselves privately is how real standards are upheld.

That shift could also help curb another instinct: reflexive defensiveness. When someone on your side says something wrong, the impulse is to either excuse it or ignore it. But the alternative — a quiet, direct response — may carry more weight than any statement drafted for social media.

We should leave space for people to do the right thing without demanding a performance. Not every moment calls for a press conference. Sometimes, the more principled path happens behind closed doors.

A more constructive response

What would a better response have looked like?

Imagine if, during the next House session, Speaker Destin Hall calmly addressed the chamber, explaining why the imagery was out of bounds and why words matter. Then invited von Haefen to stand before her colleagues and the public, acknowledge the mistake, and reaffirm her opposition to political violence.

No hashtags. No dunking. Just accountability, in full view.

That would have done more to reinforce public trust than a week of partisan statements. Instead, the moment devolved into a familiar free-for-all — each side retreating to its corner, certain the other is acting in bad faith.

This could have been a chance to show what real standards look like. Instead, it became another entry in the outrage Olympics.

Outrage has its place. But if we spend it on everything, we’ll have nothing left for when it really counts.

This story was originally published June 17, 2025 at 8:15 AM.