A turn away from political violence
In its public hearings, the House panel investigating last year鈥檚 attack on the U.S. Capitol has sought to establish that there is no credible basis for claiming the 2020 presidential election was stolen. 鈥淯ntil we get a grip on telling people the truth,鈥� Illinois Rep. Adam Kinzinger, one of two Republicans on the committee, warned his colleagues Tuesday, political violence may continue.
Many Republican officials and candidates are still encouraging their supporters to believe the lie of election fraud that motivated the mob on Jan. 6, 2021. Yet as in many countries recovering from a major conflict, the value of truth as a remedy for violence resides less in official narratives than in the contrition shown by individuals who had embraced violence as a legitimate means of political expression.
This idea of relying on remorse may now be changing the tone of justice in the United States as courts hear cases of more than 800 people, so far, charged with crimes related to the Capitol attack as well as violence during anti-police protests in 2020. Some of those trials are showing that empathy may be a more powerful tool of justice than fear of punishment in breaking a person鈥檚 attraction to violence.
Consider this exchange in a federal court in Portland, Oregon, on Tuesday. The defendant, Malik Fard Muhammad, had traveled from Indiana in 2020 to participate in mass protest rallies against police violence. When the event turned tense, he threw Molotov cocktails at officers. U.S. District Judge Marco Hernandez wanted to understand why.
鈥淚 was just wondering what your thought process was that suddenly put you in the position where you thought that this was OK, this was the thing to do, where people could get hurt or killed. I鈥檓 having trouble grasping how you got there.鈥�
鈥淚鈥檓 having trouble with it, too,鈥� Mr. Muhammad said. 鈥淚 felt unheard and dismissed and things just escalated to the point that I can鈥檛 take back.鈥� He added: 鈥淚 just regret my decisions. ... I鈥檓 here now to atone for them.鈥�
A similar approach may be working in the most serious charges yet brought against defendants tied to the Capitol mob. Eleven people face charges of sedition and obstruction of official proceedings. Among the accused are the leader of an extremist group called the Oath Keepers and several of his foot soldiers. All allegedly espoused violence and arrived at the Capitol armed. Two have already pleaded guilty.
One, a man from Georgia named Brian Ulrich, wrote in an encrypted chatroom prior to the attack, 鈥淎nd if there鈥檚 a Civil War, then there鈥檚 a Civil War.鈥� Fifteen months later, standing before U.S. District Judge Amit Mehta in Washington, D.C., he fought to compose himself as the judge read the terms of an agreement for his cooperation that did not shield him from high fines and prison.聽鈥淢r. Ulrich,鈥� the judge asked, 鈥渄o you need a moment.鈥� The defendant urged Judge Mehta to continue. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not going to get any easier.鈥滺e then took a moment to weep.
At a time when threats of violence against public officials seem to be on the uptick and many Jan. 6 defendants are taking plea deals to avoid jail time, the courtroom exchange between Judge Mehta and Mr. Ulrich offered a hint of something different 鈥� a turn away from violence and the lie that sparked it, marked by remorse and a magistrate鈥檚 compassion.
