How Polarization Turns Into Political Violence

Just after 2 a.m. on June 14, a man posing as a police officer knocked on the door of Minnesota State Senator John Hoffman. When Hoffman answered the door, the man opened fire—shooting both the senator and his wife, Yvette, several times. Yvette was hit while shielding their daughter. They survived, but only barely.

The man arrived at the residence of Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman around 3:30 a.m. Now disguised in full police gear, body armor, and a silicone mask, he shot and killed both Melissa and her husband, Mark. A massive manhunt followed. 

The suspect, Vance Boelter, was captured the next day with a hit list of nearly 70 names. Lawmakers. Abortion providers. Advocates. His motive, authorities believe, was political.

A public servant and their spouse were killed. Two more barely survived. And a country was left asking how political disagreement turned into open violence—again.

Political violence is on the rise

The shootings are the latest example of a troubling trend: the rise of political violence in the United States.

These weren’t random acts—they were rooted in ideology, driven by rage, and aimed at elected officials for their beliefs.

They also weren’t isolated. From the shooting of Former U.S. Representative Gabby Giffords to the assault on the Capitol on January 6, to assassination attempts against President Trump and arson attacks on governors’ homes, the U.S. has seen a steady and alarming rise in politically motivated violence.

Threats against lawmakers have more than doubled in the past seven years, and experts say we’re facing the most sustained increase in political violence since the 1970s.

The more polarized, the more violent

Political polarization in America has reached a point where it’s not just dividing opinions—it’s fueling the violence.

When political identity becomes a person’s primary lens for seeing the world, it warps how we view each other. Disagreement turns into distrust. Distrust turns into dehumanization. And eventually, some people stop seeing their fellow citizens as opponents—and start seeing them as enemies.

The more polarized we become, the easier it gets to justify violence in the name of a cause. That’s why depolarization isn’t just about making politics more pleasant. It’s about preserving democracy—and protecting lives.

What you can do to curb political violence

1. De-escalate daily.
   How we talk to others matters. Respond with curiosity, not contempt, especially when you disagree.
2. Call out dehumanization.
   When people are labeled as evil or less than human, violence becomes easier to justify. Don’t let that language go unchecked.
3. Build wider circles.
   Get to know people outside your political bubble. It’s easier to find common ground when you know someone’s story.
4. Stay engaged.
   Extremism thrives when people disengage from civic life out of frustration or fear. But engagement—voting, volunteering, joining local groups, even having hard conversations—is what strengthens democracy and pushes out the forces that try to undermine it.
5. Support bridge-builders.
   Choose leaders who lower the temperature, not those who stoke division. True strength is staying grounded when others want to start fires.

Hortman’s legacy of bridge-building

In a time when political divisions run deep, Melissa Hortman was a rare kind of leader—one who made space for disagreement without losing sight of common purpose.

Over two decades in the Minnesota Legislature, she earned a reputation as a hardworking, strategic lawmaker who could navigate tough policy fights, even when the challenge came from inside her own party. First elected in 2004 after two prior losses, Hortman was no stranger to persistence. And she didn’t chase headlines—she solved problems. In 2023, as the chamber house speaker, she helped pass an initiative to provide free lunches for public school students. And earlier this year, when the House was split 67-67 between Democrats and Republicans, she broke a budget impasse and prevented a government shutdown. 

As Minnesota Secretary of State Steve Simon put it, “She was steely and strategic and savvy and yet so likable as a person because she always remembered people’s humanity—even and especially if they were on the other side of the aisle.”

In a political moment increasingly defined by zero-sum thinking, Melissa Hortman was a reminder that leadership doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful. She believed that progress was still possible—even when the path forward required grit, patience, and grace.

Her absence leaves a hole. But her example leaves a map.

—Alex Buscemi (abuscemi@buildersmovement.org)

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