America, we are living through a miracle. Not the miracle of bipartisan cooperation, or the miracle of clean water infrastructure, or even the miracle of a functioning Congress. No, the miracle is this: Republicans have suddenly discovered the concept of rhetorical responsibility. Like a toddler who’s just realized the stove is hot—after years of sticking their hand directly on the burner—they are now clutching their pearls and whispering about “civility” in the aftermath of Charlie Kirk’s assassination.
It would be inspiring if it weren’t so deeply, hilariously hypocritical.
For years, the GOP has treated rhetoric like a blunt weapon—mocking, jeering, inflaming, radicalizing, using words less as a means of communication and more as verbal IEDs. But now that one of their own has been felled, they want decorum. They want unity. They want the rest of us to dial it down and respect the moment. In other words: they want a return to civility they never believed in, except when it serves their own grief.
The Selective Outrage Index
Consider the ledger. When George Floyd was murdered, Republicans couldn’t wait to dismiss the protests as “riots” and Floyd himself as a drug addict whose death was somehow his own fault. Where was the call for civility then? Oh, right—it was drowned out by Fox News montages of burning Walgreens.
When Paul Pelosi, husband of the former Speaker of the House, was beaten in his own home with a hammer by a man radicalized by GOP-adjacent conspiracy theories, the Republican response was laughter. Literal laughter. Memes, jokes, smirks on cable news. Ted Cruz smirked, Tucker Carlson winked, and a thousand Twitter trolls posted “Hammer Time” gifs.
When a mob tried to assassinate most of the Democratic leadership on January 6, Republicans downplayed it as “tourism.” A guided Capitol visit, if you will, featuring nooses and gallows as part of the package. The rhetoric that inspired the mob—“fight like hell” and “stop the steal”—was recast as motivational speaking.
When children are massacred in classrooms, Republicans send “thoughts and prayers,” as if God operates a bulletproof vest factory on a backorder delay. Decorum then meant don’t politicize tragedy, don’t blame the guns, don’t even dare suggest that the endless stream of corpses might be connected to policies.
But when Charlie Kirk is assassinated? Suddenly, the same crew who mocked and dismissed others’ suffering are clutching rosaries and sermonizing about the danger of rhetoric.
A Party of Professional Gaslighters
Republicans have long insisted that “words don’t kill people, guns kill people.” But the second their own figurehead is felled by a bullet, they want us to consider that maybe words do kill people after all. That maybe rhetoric does matter. That maybe telling your followers that the other side is “traitors,” “pedophiles,” “enemies of America,” and “vermin” creates a climate where someone will eventually pick up a rifle.
This is not introspection; it’s opportunism. If the shooter had targeted a Democrat, GOP leaders would be on Twitter tonight smirking about karma. They’d be mocking Democrats for “reaping what they sowed.” They’d be turning the assassination into a campaign ad about the dangers of socialism.
The hypocrisy is so thick you could pave I-95 with it.
Civility, Only When Convenient
The GOP’s newfound plea for rhetorical civility is not about concern for America. It’s not about cooling the temperature. It’s about self-preservation. They want everyone else to turn the volume down while they continue screaming into megaphones.
They want Democrats to stop pointing out their complicity. They want the media to stop highlighting their years of inflammatory rhetoric. They want the public to forget that political violence has been growing under their watch, fueled by their talking points.
It’s the rhetorical equivalent of lighting your neighbor’s house on fire, then begging everyone to keep their voices down when your curtains catch flame.
The Thoughts-and-Prayers Industrial Complex
Republicans have always specialized in performative grief. They know how to look sad into a camera, to clutch hands and bow heads, to offer empty platitudes about “healing.” But the second the cameras are off, the smirk returns. Their grief is selective, their prayers conditional. They have built an entire industry of “thoughts and prayers,” a currency they only spend when tragedy doesn’t require political accountability.
Dead children in classrooms? Thoughts and prayers.
Beaten political spouses? Shrug and a meme.
Assassination attempts on Democrats? A punchline.
One of their own assassinated? Suddenly, the republic itself is in danger, and we must respect the dead.
The Mirror They Refuse to Face
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: the rhetoric Republicans now condemn is the rhetoric they invented. Dehumanization is their brand. Outrage is their product. Violence is their shadow.
When Trump calls opponents “animals,” when DeSantis calls liberals “vermin,” when Greene calls Democrats “enemies of the state,” those aren’t slips of the tongue. They’re strategy. They’re marketing. They’re red meat for a base that craves enemies more than solutions.
And every time those words echo through microphones, someone out there takes them literally. Someone out there hears “enemies” and decides to treat them like enemies. Someone out there picks up the rifle. That someone doesn’t need to be told twice, because the climate has already been created.
A Hypocrisy So Loud It Drowns Out the Dead
The hypocrisy of Republicans demanding civility now is deafening. It drowns out even the solemnity of Kirk’s assassination. They can’t hear themselves, and maybe they don’t want to. Because to admit that rhetoric matters would be to admit complicity in every act of political violence that preceded this one.
It would mean acknowledging that their words helped create the very culture that killed their own. And that is one mirror they refuse to face.
Civility Theater
What we’re watching now is civility theater. It’s not real concern; it’s scripted outrage. The GOP doesn’t want rhetoric dialed down. They want rhetorical asymmetry. They want Democrats muzzled while they continue screaming. They want journalists intimidated into “both-sides-ing” the story until no one can tell where the bullets came from.
Civility, for Republicans, is not about peace. It’s about power. It’s about controlling the narrative. It’s about ensuring that their own tragedies are sacred while everyone else’s are punchlines.
What We Should Remember
We should remember that Republicans mocked George Floyd’s death.
We should remember that they laughed about Paul Pelosi’s skull fracture.
We should remember that they downplayed the assassination attempt against their Democratic colleagues on January 6.
We should remember that they offer only “thoughts and prayers” when classrooms are filled with blood.
And we should remember that now, suddenly, they want civility, they want decorum, they want respect.
Respect they never gave. Decorum they never practiced. Civility they never believed in.
Summary of Selective Civility
Republicans have spent years weaponizing rhetoric, mocking tragedy, and inflaming division. When Democrats, Black Americans, or children are the victims, they shrug or laugh. But with the assassination of Charlie Kirk, they suddenly want unity, decorum, and respect for the power of words. The hypocrisy is blinding. The GOP doesn’t want civility—they want silence from their critics while they continue to scream. If there’s satire in tragedy, it’s this: the party that built its brand on dehumanization now wants us all to play nice because—for once—the flames consumed their own.