Why can’t you escape from political logos while looking at war memorials? Why can’t you mourn without hearing some snarky political critique?
Certainly, the newsworthiness of tragedies draws attention to social issues and motivates people to protest for equity. For instance, Black Lives Matter highlighted the murder of George Floyd in their campaign to increase momentum in their fight against racial injustice. The horrors of police brutality were magnified by bringing attention to Floyd’s death, contributing significantly to success in police reform.
Yet the way politicians utilize tragedies to further their personal political campaigns is deeply cynical and immoral. Few politicians are personally invested in the suffering they talk about from their podiums, because those who are privileged enough to be in politics are also those who are privileged enough to not have experienced the effects of those tragedies. What is the likelihood that politicians were the ones crouching under desks, sprinting across mines, and experiencing the tragedies they use to further their political agendas?
Most politicians use tragedies as ad misericordiam (appeal to pity) arguments––a strategy that appeals to pathos. Take Trump’s visit to the Arlington Cemetery on August 26, for example. What began as an event meant to honor soldiers lost in the conflict in Afghanistan became an opportunity for him to attack his political opponents. He posted a TikTok of the graves shortly afterwards, saying, “We didn’t lose one person in 18 months, and then [Biden and Harris] took over that disaster.”
By exploiting the ceremony for political gain, I believe Trump violates a fundamental ethical axiom. A graveyard is not the place for a campaign’s photo-op, and Trump’s actions transformed a space for people to commemorate fallen soldiers into a battleground for politicians and voters. These soldiers did not sacrifice their lives for Republicans or Democrats to hurl insults at one another; they died defending their country.
At the 2024 Democratic National Convention, the parents of an American who was held hostage by Hamas spoke amidst loud cheers of “bring them home.” Yet while highlighting the tragedy of Israeli victims, the Democratic Party denied the people of Gaza an opportunity to speak. The censorship of Palestinian perspectives helps the Harris-Walz campaign continue justifying funding the Israeli military, whose recent attacks have caused more than 40,000 Palestinian deaths. In such a politically divisive country, it’s easy to forget that war is not discriminatory––that just because someone is Palestinian, their suffering should not be ignored. Yet it was.
The instinct of the Democratic Party to exploit some violence while ignoring others reveals that they aren’t really interested in mitigating human suffering: instead, they address violence only when it fulfills their political agenda. Even if the entire audience was overflowing with sympathy for Israeli hostages, the way the tragedy was callously employed contradicts the very justice it calls for.
Historically, tragedies have produced opportunities for communities to rebuild, societies to improve, and people to unite. When they become exploited by politicians, however, we become so engrossed in tearing each other apart that we end up dehumanizing and forgetting the victims.
A good leader should not use human suffering as a pawn to score political points or blame others; they must bring people together to honor loss and mend the broken. Tragedy is only used as a campaign technique by individuals who lack nobility, compassion, and humanity––the essential traits that make politician worth voting for at all.
