By Matt Underwood Representative Seth Moulton’s suggestion that Donald Trump could demonstrate his commitment to ending political violence by rescinding the pardons he granted to individuals involved in the January 6th Capitol riot is a provocative one, sparking a lot of debate and reflection. The core of the argument is pretty straightforward: if Trump genuinely wants to quell political violence, then reversing actions that essentially condoned it would be a logical first step. This isn’t just about symbolism; it’s about sending a clear message that such behavior, especially when targeting political figures or institutions, will not be tolerated.
The issue quickly delves into the legality and the potential implications of such a move. Can a pardon be rescinded? The consensus seems to be a resounding no. Once a pardon is granted, it is generally considered final, protecting the individual from further legal jeopardy for that specific crime. Attempts to undo a pardon would likely face significant legal challenges, potentially violating the principle of double jeopardy, which prevents a person from being tried for the same offense twice. However, the essence of the argument is less about the technical possibility and more about the message it would convey. It’s a challenge to Trump to back up his rhetoric with action.
There is the counter-argument that if Trump were serious about ending political violence, this could be a simple move. Those with extremist views, often those who were pardoned in the past, would likely fall in line behind Trump’s decision if it were to occur. This highlights a very important thing in the discussion of political violence: there is no rational discussion with those that seek to use it. Furthermore, this also highlights that Trump’s base seems to only cry about political violence when it is directed at them, and not as a general rule.
The discussion also touches upon the broader context of political discourse and the perceived rise in political violence. Some commenters point to Trump’s own actions and rhetoric, suggesting that he has, at times, appeared to encourage or even celebrate violence, particularly when directed towards his perceived enemies. This perception is further fueled by the observation that Trump seems to support political violence when it aligns with his own goals. The core of this point is that if you are on Trump’s team, then there is no crime that he would not defend or pardon.
The conversation also explores the idea of holding those who incited or participated in the January 6th events accountable, which would naturally include the perpetrators. The point is made that any actions against Trump’s wishes would be against their best interests, and would not be accepted by those who have been pardoned. However, the potential for state charges against some of the January 6th defendants, like conspiracy, adds another layer of complexity to the legal landscape. This is not even mentioning the fact that they could be charged in any number of ways.
Ultimately, the debate underscores the complex relationship between political rhetoric, legal precedent, and the perception of justice. While rescinding pardons may not be legally feasible, the suggestion highlights a larger question: how can political leaders demonstrate a genuine commitment to stopping political violence, and what actions would be consistent with that commitment? This article touches on many complex arguments, but the main point stays the same: those that promote political violence are simply the ones that will do the most damage to the country and democracy as a whole.