lemmy.thesanewriter

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Select an instance from https://join-lemmy.org/instances to start, or sign up for an account here! Make sure to select an instance with acceptable rules and with a policy for federation that you agree with. As a note, the max name length on this instance is 20 characters.

Rules

  1. No bigotry. This goes for communities off-instance too, no spreading homophobia/transphobia/ableism/racism.
  2. No NSFW media uploads to my instance. If you upload an image, GIF, or some other file to my instance it should not be porn, any NSFW links must be from a third-party image host. No exceptions, this will result in an immediate ban.
  3. Nothing illegal in the United States of America, or the state of Indiana.
  4. No harassment/doxxing. Calling someone a moron in a single thread will not get you banned, doing so in multiple places or leaking their home address will.

Support
Feel free to message me at [email protected] or [email protected] or post in [email protected] for instance related questions. I can also be contacted by email at [email protected], but I check that email infrequently so don't expect an immediate response there. For broader issues with the platform, feel free to create an issue with one of the GitHub repos (this is not for support answers it is to inform the developers of issues) (Lemmy or Lemmy-UI) or post in the main support community at [email protected].

Available UIs Currently, 5 official UIs are being run for this instance:

founded 1 year ago
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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/seowithumang on 2024-07-15 12:29:34+00:00.

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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/kudawira on 2024-07-15 12:12:25+00:00.

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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/Ilyas_Raisovich on 2024-07-15 11:37:45+00:00.

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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/Green____cat on 2024-07-15 11:30:03+00:00.

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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/Aureliash on 2024-07-15 11:28:22+00:00.

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Carissa Véliz is an expert in ethics applied to technology. The Spanish-Mexican philosopher, who does not provide a date or place of birth to protect her privacy, is one of the voices that warn us about the growing digital dangers that lurk at every corner and chip away at our individual autonomy.

Carissa Véliz: Autonomy is a fundamental principle. To have it, you need space to make your own decisions, to think about what your values are and act in that direction. And when they are watching you all the time, the other’s gaze is oppressive, it seeks your compliance. The simple fact of being observed reduces our impulse to experiment, to ask. Human beings need privacy, intimacy and a certain solitude to discover ourselves [...]

We don’t realize how surveillance influences us. If we turned off the cameras we would see that we do not think the same, we do not express things the same way, there is not the same type of frankness in the debate [...]

Anonymity is one of the most important social innovations of democracy, in particular, the possibility of making an anonymous protest, going out into the streets... Today we carry our cell phones with us, which identifies us, and that sometimes means that people do not show up when they need to [...]

China takes the lead [in the rejection of any privacy], it has no pretensions to being democratic or liberal. It is going all out with surveillance, it intends for it to be centralized. The surveillance you are subjected to at work has consequences on your personal relationships in a country like this. It affects, for example, the visibility you achieve on dating applications [...]

Obviously, we [in the West] need regulation. Collective problems need collective solutions. It is not up to the individual to change things and yet we have power; When we change our behavior, companies and governments are sensitive to it. It’s not about not using your cell phone. We must try to protect our privacy when we can and it is not too demanding. Instead of using WhatsApp, use Signal. It’s free, it works just as well, it doesn’t collect your data. Instead of using Gmail, use Proton Mail [...]

Any decision that can significantly affect a person’s life [should never be left in the hands of AI]. AI is not a moral agent, it cannot be responsible for harming someone or denying them an important opportunity. Nor should we delegate to AI jobs in which we value the empathy of a fellow citizen who can understand what we feel.

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From the Atlanta Daily World:

Sen. Raphael Warnock shared thoughts on this weekend’s shooting at the Trump rally in Pennsylvania. While delivering his sermon on Sunday morning at Ebenezer Baptist Church, Warnock condemned the alleged assassination attempt on Donald Trump. Warnock called for the nation to come together.  ”We pray for the American family beset by a moral crisis and … Continued

The post Sen. Raphael Warnock Condemns Shooting At Trump Rally And Jan. 6 Attack appeared first on Atlanta Daily World.

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cross-posted from: https://feddit.org/post/807960

Archived link

Human rights lawyer Kenneth Roth on Xitter:

"The United Arab Emirates government is so contemptuous of human rights that it is holding military exercises with China in Xinjiang of all places, the site of Beijing's mass detention and persecution of Uyghur Muslims."

China and the United Arab Emirates are holding military training exercises this week in Xinjiang, as Emirati-Chinese defense ties see a boost despite US concerns.

The joint air force training exercise, dubbed Falcon Shield, began on Wednesday in the northwest Xinjiang province of China. Officers and soldiers from both countries attended the opening ceremony, including the UAE’s deputy military attache in China.

Xinjiang province, where the exercise took place, is home to China’s Uyghur Muslim community. China has been widely criticized for its treatment of Uyghurs and other Muslim minorities there. According to observers such as Human Rights Watch, China has detained up to a million Muslims in Xinjiang in recent years as part of its anti-terror campaign. The United Nations’ Human Rights Office released a report in 2022 detailing human rights issues in the region.

“The extent of arbitrary and discriminatory detention of members of Uyghur and other predominantly Muslim groups, pursuant to law and policy, in context of restrictions and deprivation more generally of fundamental rights enjoyed individually and collectively, may constitute international crimes, in particular crimes against humanity,” said the UN.

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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/CG_Nameley on 2024-07-15 09:32:28+00:00.

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/HungryShoulder5305 on 2024-07-15 01:56:46+00:00.


Prior part:

Sorry for the cliff hanger on the last entry, but it looked like it was going to be too long to finish in one post. Plus I needed to take a break to move to a different room. The knocking was starting to get hard to ignore.

The entry that came a page or two after the one bookmarked with Judy's prayer card looked way different than any of the ones before.

Dear Journal,

I understand that I am not at fault for what happened with Alex and Judy. I understand that these connections were only made out of extreme duress based on my guilt and psychotic beliefs following the death of first my father, and then my nephew and sister-in-law. I know now that my death would not bring them back or cause any satisfaction to my brother Adam, who cares for me deeply despite his loss and has been a major part of my recovery along with my mother. The black eyed boy that I was seeing was a result of delusional thinking and hallucinations that have been properly diagnosed by Dr. Hawkins. After months of physical and mental recovery, I will be starting my journal afresh with a new mind after having it returned to me by the staff at St. Peter's Psychiatric Care Center and using the skills from my therapeutic journal to continue my recovery. The staff and Dr. Hawkins have my eternal gratitude for helping me start me life without delusion and begin my adulthood from a place of healing.

After digging through the box the journals had been in, I found what looked like a workbook that I had overlooked considering how identifiable the journals were. Inside were therapeutic exercises talking about guilt, shame, identifying how to distinguish hallucinations, countering delusional thoughts, what looked like unpolished versions of modern safety plans, entries he'd written during his treatment, and letters written back and forth between him, his mother, and his brother between visits. His brother offering him forgiveness and talking about not wanting to lose anyone else he loved. His mother talking about how strong she knew he was. Although I knew that psychiatric treatment had been far less humane in the past, the workbook was honestly inspiring, even heartwarming...at least, if I didn't know where the story ended. If I didn't know there were more journals to read.

Still, there was over a decade of pretty standard entries that seemed much more monumental considering the ones I'd read up until now. His brother remarrying and having two children, one named after his father with the middle name of the son he lost and the other with their daughter with Judy's name as her middle name. I couldn't help but wonder what the new wife thought of the latter, but considering the intensity of his loss maybe she was understanding. Either way, there weren't any entries that were negative about it. Blitz passed away as an old man and eventually he got his own dog named Duke that he took with him when he started his own family. Allen got a steady job as a butcher at a store he'd frequented growing up and eventually became the manager. He married. Had kids that his mother often watched for them on date nights and seemed to dote on. Knowing how things were with his kids now it was strange to see how much he wrote about them, how Alicia was "so smart that it caused her trouble", how the middle daughter was "already so kind", how he was so happy to have a baby boy to round out their family.

It made the punch in the gut even worse when the streak broke.

Dear Journal,

I finally remembered.

It's been so long and my treatment was so intense that I really did think I was crazy. That "Christian" was just something that flared up when I got too stressed, like when Dad died or when everything happened with Alex and Judy. Some kid based on the imaginary friend I made up when Adam was getting too old to bring his little brother around. So I'd let it out of my mind for all these years.

But they came tonight.

It was late, maybe 10pm, and Rosie and the kids were all asleep. I just finished looking for Jupiter since it was a clear night. Then someone knocked on the door while I was putting away the telescope. I was worried it was an emergency since it was so late, especially with the neighbor's heart attack last week, but I damn near had one myself when I saw who was there.

There were two little girls at the door that looked just like Alicia and Maisy, down to Maisy's hair ribbons and the studs in Alicia's ears with her birthstone in them. I knew it couldn't be them of course, they were upstairs in their beds, but it was uncanny. I asked them what was wrong and they said that they woke up outside and that they were scared. They even called me Daddy. They were sniffling and whimpering in a way that broke my heart to hear and I squatted down a second to get a better look, starting to wonder if maybe they'd been sleep walking even if that hadn't happened before.

Then I saw their eyes, completely black, even what should have been the whites of their eyes.

And I remembered.

I slammed the door shut and they started clawing and banging the door behind me, sobbing, letting out these keening cries for "Daddy" to let them in and that I was scaring them. They were scaring me. I locked the door and ran upstairs the the girl's room while Rosie was coming out to see what was happening and...there they were. My little girls sat up in bed with that same scared, confused look as the girls on the doorstep. They were mine though, their eyes were teary but they were the same eyes that had looked at me from their little bundles at the hospital the day they were born. Rosie was so worried, she kept asking why the door slammed and what all the banging was and I told her that it was some hitchhiker wanting a ride that gave me a bad feeling. She didn't seem like she believed me, but since she didn't have a better option she let it go. I'm on the couch writing this to make sure they don't come back, and I hope I'm just over tired. I hope to god I'm just tired. Because if not I've got no one to turn to for this.

It looked like things settled down for a while again, almost long enough that he had dismissed the incident, before the girls showed up again.

Dear Journal,

Rosie answered the door after dinner and as I went to go into the living room I saw who she was talking to. It was the girls again. Rosie seemed so confused and even looked back to make sure the girls were still playing on the floor near the couch, especially after I heard them beg "Mommy" to let them in and that they were sorry for going out without asking. I didn't hear anymore because I ran up behind her and slammed the door in their faces, the older girl barely pulling her hand off the door frame in time. Rosie got upset with me and started shouting at me for being heartless, that clearly these two little girls were confused, and I lost it. I shouted back for her to bring the girls upstairs and that those demons were not coming in our house, that it'd be over my dead body. Our girls had never heard us fight before, hell, we never had fought until now, and they ran upstairs like they'd seen the devil himself and he was biting at their heels. I don't know what got into Rosie but she was actually fighting me to get at the door, it was like something had come over her and she was dead set on getting that door open, only made worse by those little demons crying and begging for their mother. I felt like I was going crazy, like my entire world was crashing down on me. The only thing that made me keep going and keeping her away from the door is knowing what those things could do to us, to our children.

And then it just stopped.

The banging and the crying was gone. Rosie was staring at me from about a foot away, looking concerned, and I had my back against the door. The only thing that let me know I hadn't completely lost my mind was the scratches up and down my arms from her nails. She started asking me what was wrong, acting like those scratches were from some cat or from Duke jumping on me, and genuinely seemed like she had no idea what had happened just a few seconds before. I told her that she had come at me over those girls at the door and I asked her if she lost her mind, but she really didn't know what I was talking about. The only thing that helped was when I went upstairs the girls ran to me crying and asking me why Mommy and Daddy were fighting and if something bad happened.

I held them for a long time, kept pulling away to look at their eyes and kiss them on their foreheads, kept telling them that Daddy loves them and that everything would be okay.

I was lying to them. I don't know if anything will be okay.

After this, there were entries about trying to act like everything was normal, and about the nightmares he started having. Nightmares about his own little girls turning into the ones with the black eyes and shooting him in his sleep, choking the baby in his sleep, opening his wife's belly with a knife the way Alex had been shot. There was so many desperate attempts for him to separate those nightmares from his girls and how he was worried that it was effecting how he interacted with his kids. How eventually he even started having nightmares of his baby boy opening his eyes after a nap a...


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Kelev Tov (old.reddit.com)
submitted 3 hours ago by [email protected] to c/[email protected]
 
 
This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/HiHiPuffyAmiYumiGo on 2024-07-14 16:21:54+00:00.


Dogs should live forever.

I know that isn't reasonable, so I can compromise. Dogs should live for a hundred years. See how reasonable I am? Dogs belong with us, our best friends, our confidants, our protectors. Our loyal protectors.

When my little sister was a year old, before my mother and father's marriage fell apart, my mother decided she wanted a dog. Dad took care of the adoption paperwork, the supplies and all the logistics of getting the puppy. Mom named him. The shelter said the mother was a Great Dane, but they didn't know about the father and warned us that the dog could be huge. Mom named him Mouse, because she thought that would be funny. She's right of course; it is funny.

Mouse turned out to be gigantic. Mouse was the chillest dog ever. Most Great Danes are like that. When you're the size of a full grown man, you can be pretty confident nothing is going to fuck with you. With that confidence comes calm. There were times I walked Mouse down the street and some little lap dog that was more rat that dog started barking its head off at Mouse. Mouse would just ignore it. What was it going to do, bite his ankles?

Mom loved Mouse. She loved playing with him and cuddling with him. She loved training him and cleaning up after him a lot less. Dad took care of that. As Mouse got big, and he got very big very fast, Mom said she couldn't walk him anymore. Dad and I had to take care of all his walks. We didn't mind, because Mouse was the best dog ever. He never pulled on the leash or anything.

When Mom left and Esther and I were devastated, we would cuddle up on the couch next to Mouse and give him tight hugs. He licked our hair and huffed his hot breath on us. I think it was his way of saying everything would be alright. When Dad started dating my Stepmom, Becky, he was nervous to introduce her and her son Jake to Mouse. He shouldn't have been. Mouse loved them instantly. He walked right up to Jake when he met him and licked his face. Jake was delighted.

When Becky and Dad got married, we got a second dog. His name was Woodpecker. Esther picked it because when she first saw him he was chewing on a stick. We ended up just calling him Woody. Woody is smaller than Mouse. He's only eighty pounds. So, y'know, still pretty big.

Everyone says their dogs are the best dogs in the world. Now, I agree that all dogs are good dogs, but I have to say that every dog owner except my family is full of shit. There have never been better dogs than Mouse and Woody, never. That's no slight against other dogs, who are also excellent. There's just no way to be as good as Mouse and Woody.

When I was thirteen and Becky was pregnant with my youngest sibling, I took Mouse and Woody for a walk one night after Shabbat dinner. Becky felt sick and went to sleep early. Dad was getting Jake and Esther ready for bed. Being thirteen and a newly minted young man, I took it upon myself to help out and walk the dogs. It was dark outside, and Dad told me to be careful. I promised I would be, but I wasn't worried. I had two huge dogs with me, and we lived in an eruv that was also a gated community.

We walked to the end of our street and turned left. I had no particular route or destination in mind. I knew the neighborhood well, and so did the dogs. All three of us could navigate the familiar streets even in the dark. We passed neighbor after neighbor’s house. There were little pools of light under the street lamps that looked like puddles I could jump in. I didn't though, because I was thirteen and too old for such foolishness.

It was so still and quiet outside. No one was watching TV or listening to music. I was alone in the dark with my faithful companions. Some people are afraid of the dark, but I never have been, even after what happened that night. In the dark, when it's quiet, I can listen for the murmuring.

My peace was interrupted by the yowling of a cat. Mouse ignored the cat. He had no interest in them. Woody wasn't aggressive toward cats, but he had the unfortunate desire to befriend them. They did not share his desire. He tried to follow the cat, but since his leash was clipped to the front of his harness he ended up turning himself around. He looked at me with confusion, and I burst out laughing.

He took his revenge by pooping on the next lawn we passed. To be fair, that was the entire point of our walk. I collected the poop and tied the bag tight. We continued along, waiting for Mouse to feel nature's call. He did a couple streets over, but I wasn't ready to head back yet. I wasn't tired, and neither were the dogs. The night was warm and welcoming, a perfect late summer evening.

“Excuse me, young man.”

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard someone behind me speak up. I turned around. I did not recognize the man who had spoken to me. That was odd, because we knew almost all of our neighbors, and a security guard monitored the only entrance to the community. It wasn't like random people could just wander in through the gate.

“I didn't mean to startle you.” Woody sat down on my feet. He often did that when we encountered someone he didn't know. It was a protective gesture. Mouse stayed standing and stared at the man with his huge brown eyes. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

“I don't know you.”

The man nodded. “I'm sure your mother taught you not to talk to strangers.”

As a matter of fact, she never did. Mom loves talking to strangers. She calls it one of life's great pleasures. Dad isn't such a fan though.

“I'm staying with the Rosens. I'm Debby’s cousin. I needed some fresh air and went for a walk, but I got lost. You must think me very foolish.”

I did know Debby Rosen. She was a nice fat middle-aged mom whose kids were just a smidge too old to want to hang out with me. She gave me a big hug at my Bar Mitzvah and said I read Torah better than she'd ever heard before. She says that at everyone's Bar Mitzvah, but it's still nice. She has cousins, I'm sure. She has an uncle that she says can predict the weather with his arthritis. Presumably he has kids, and presumably they are Debby's cousins.

The thing is, this man didn't look like Debby Rosen’s cousin. I don't just mean that they didn't have similar features, although they didn't. Not everyone looks like their cousins, after all. No one thinks I look particularly like my cousins.

Debby has red undertones to her skin, and thick dark curls. Debby is short and plump. Most of all, Debby has a face that always looks like it's smiling, even when she wears one of her infrequent frowns. This man was pale like his skin had been bleached. There were no undertones to him, warm or cool. He was tall and lanky. His face had neither smile lines nor laugh lines, but it had lines, many lines.

“Can you help me get back to Debby's house?”

I could, of course. I knew exactly how to get there. She didn't live far away, either, just one block up and one over. In fact, if I started back home, I would walk right by Debby’s house on the way. “No, sorry. I don't know where she lives.”

The look the man gave me made it clear he knew I was lying. “Very well,” he said. “I'll just keep looking.”

I nodded. Then I realized I was stuck. I could go home, but that would mean walking past the man. I could go further away, but that would mean I would eventually need to turn around and go back in his direction. I took the second option. Maybe by the time I needed to turn around the man would have found Debby's house on his own.

“Come on Mouse. Come on Woody.” They obeyed me as I resumed our walk.

I wasn't expecting the man to follow me.

I looked over my shoulder at him. He ambled along at a slow pace, reading the numbers on every house he passed. He didn't look at me, but when I turned left, so did he. My heart began beating away at my chest, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I wanted to tell him to stop following me, but I was afraid if I called him out on it he would stop pretending that his path mirrored mine by coincidence.

The solution that I was embarrassed I didn't come up with right away was of course to just knock on a neighbor's door. I walked up Sammy Kane’s driveway and knocked on his door. Mouse and Woody sat in front of the door, intrigued by the aberration in our normal walking routine. The man reached the end of Sammy's driveway and stood there, watching me. I knocked harder and felt humiliated as I started to cry. The man took a step up the driveway.

“Mr. Kane! Mr. Kane, open up! It's Reuben! Mr. Kane, open the door!” The man continued up the driveway, his pace slow and measured. He was in no hurry. It was as if he knew Sammy wouldn't answer the door.

Woody started barking at the door. He was confused as to why I was pounding at the door. I was glad he was barking. It was rude to wake up the neighbors, but I didn't care. I just wanted the door to open. I dropped the two bags of dog poop and began to bang on the door with both hands. Mouse turned to face the man. He did something he never, ever did. He'd never done it before that night, and he never did it after. He growled. He showed the man his teeth. Mouse was a massive, massive dog, and he had huge sharp teeth, but the man didn't care. He just laughed.

I pounded on the door hard enough to shake it in its frame. I don't care how deep the Kane family sleeps, one of them should have heard me and woken up. “Mr. Kane! Mr. Kane! Open the door! There's a man out here, and he's going to get me!”

I didn't look over my...


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The original was posted on /r/hyruleengineering by /u/ryt1314059 on 2024-07-15 00:11:44+00:00.

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From the Atlanta Daily World:

The Martin Luther King, Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change successfully held its third annual Be Love Day. This year’s event offered a hybrid experience, combining in-person and virtual activities designed to engage, educate, equip, and empower participants of all ages. “There are many misconceptions about love, among them being that love is passive and … Continued

The post Jade Novah, Heiress Harris And Van Van Close Out 3rd Annual ‘Be Love Day’ At The King Center appeared first on Atlanta Daily World.

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An interview with with reporter Oren Ziv of +972 Magazine, whose latest investigation details how Israeli forces in Gaza have been authorized to open fire on Palestinians virtually at will. Six soldiers who fought in Gaza describe a near-total absence of firing regulations, with soldiers shooting as they please, setting homes ablaze, leaving corpses to rot on the streets and more.

“It seems soldiers were shooting not from a tactical reason or a real military reason, but just out of being bored, to pass the time or just because they could,” says Ziv.

“Soldiers felt they can do whatever they want, that they won’t be accountable. And all this is done also with the awareness of the commanders.”

[...] several soldiers told us, that the army was not dealing with dead people, dead Palestinians, and it was very common to see them on the side of the road when they’re moving to one place to another [...] Israeli soldiers were deployed inside Palestinian homes and houses, and when they had to move to a new position, the official policy, as we understand, was to burn the house down. The soldiers would gather the mattresses and the furniture and light the house on fire and move on. The official explanation by the commanders [...] was the fact that they don’t want anything sensitive to be left there, military equipment or maps or anything like that, but also that Hamas will not use the houses. But between the lines, you can understand that this was also an act of revenge to punish Palestinian civilians and also to make sure they cannot go back to those areas, areas that at least some people in the army believed would stay in Israeli control.

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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/queenrosexx on 2024-07-15 08:31:10+00:00.

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The original was posted on /r/maybemaybemaybe by /u/GandalfTheGonorrhea on 2024-07-15 08:08:01+00:00.

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Archived version

In a shocking act on July 13, a man attempted to assassinate Donald Trump at a campaign rally in Butler, Pennsylvania. Trump will recover from his wound but, tragically, a 50-year-old man attending the rally was shot and killed.

Violence has no place in a democratic political system, and we condemn this despicable act. Yet we must also acknowledge that no one has done more to inject violence into our political discourse than Trump.

He demonizes his political opponents as “animals,” “scum” and “vermin.” He calls for jailing his opponents without cause and forcing them to stand before military tribunals. He speaks of the “bloodbath” that will occur if he loses the election. When a deranged man attempted to murder House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband with a hammer, Trump mocked the incident as his audience laughed.

[...]

None of this justifies the attempt on his life – or any kind of political violence against anyone. Yet Trump has continually framed American politics as a violent struggle requiring bloodshed. Trump regularly charges up his supporters by using destructive and violent rhetoric.

[...]

Terry Szuplat, a former Obama speechwriter [...] offered some thoughtful ideas:

We can stop describing fellow Americans we disagree with as “enemies” who need to be “destroyed” or “crushed.”

We can stop whipping up audiences to “fight” and “take back our country.” Our diverse society of more than 300 million people is not something that any one group owns or can “take” from our neighbors.

We can resist absolutist language like “good” vs. “evil.” Framing complex issues on which reasonable people can disagree in absolutist terms becomes a license to use any means necessary to ensure that “good”—at least as the speaker perceives it—prevails, no matter what the cost.

Don’t otherize. There is no “us” vs. “them.” There’s only “we the people”—Americans who rise and fall together.

Don’t demonize. Just because someone disagrees with us doesn’t make them “dark,” “sinister,” or “wicked.”

Don’t dehumanize. When we refer to other people as “animals” or “vermin,” it can lead to violence against our fellow Americans.”

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