No Kings: Redefining the Strong Man

The Assassination of Rep. Melissa Hortman Is a National Tragedy

Today is a day of mourning

The lives of Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman’s family and friends have been irrevocably changed. On what should have been a day of celebration, Father’s Day, their children are left grieving the loss of their father, Mark.

Melissa with her two children and her husband Mark. (Photo: melissahortman.com)

Melissa and Mark were murdered in their own home by someone impersonating a police officer—a shocking and horrifying act that has reverberated across Minnesota and the nation.

Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette, were also victims of this brazen attack but survived. We hope their recovery is swift and they can regain some sense of normalcy in the coming days.

Details are still emerging. It may take weeks to understand the motive behind the attack, though speculation is already widespread. (As of 6:15 p.m. Saturday, police reported that the manhunt for Vance Boelter was still underway, more than 12 hours after the murders occurred.)

Many questions remain about what happened and what comes next. For now, our hearts are with the families affected by this violence. Like many of you, we are cycling through a range of emotions and feeling deep compassion for these families and their loved ones.

America Has a History of Political Violence

Over the years, we’ve heard cries of “never again” more times than we can count. The sincerity is real, the sense of urgency just as strong, but then it happens again. And again. And again.

As we’ve written before, we believe the sheer volume of firearms in America—and their easy accessibility—presents a problem with few clear answers. When that reality is combined with a severely underfunded mental health care system, an undercurrent of religious fanaticism, an avaricious tyrant in the White House, and a media ecosystem that rewards the most divisive voices, we should expect more attempts to undermine democracy through violence against elected officials.

There are simply too many extremists in this country who view violence as a legitimate response to disagreement and political differences.

Consider the list compiled by Time magazine after the assassination attempt on Donald Trump in July 2024. Among the most well-known:

• The shooting of Congresswoman Gabby Giffords in 2011

• The attack on Congressman Steve Scalise during a Congressional baseball game in 2017

• The violent assault on Paul Pelosi, husband of then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, in 2022

• The kidnapping plot against Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer in 2020

• And, of course, the January 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol in 2021

We’d be remiss not to mention the Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, whose campaign of mail bombs killed three and injured 23 others between 1978 and 1995. He became a symbol of violent extremism during the formative years of Generation X.

There are many more incidents of mass violence, often driven by hatred—racial, religious, or political—that we haven’t included. In 2025 alone, there have been 183 mass shootings in the United States.

Though we continue to express sympathy for victims and their families, the nation has grown disturbingly desensitized. Some now even treat Luigi Mangione as a kind of folk hero for the murder of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson.

Photo by Ryan Franco on Unsplash

Ode to Father’s Day

The original topic for this newsletter was meant to be fathers. We planned to recognize the hard work and quiet sacrifices men make to raise children. (Women do as well, of course—but this is Father’s Day.)

If we want leaders who respond to difficult situations with kindness and thoughtfulness, we need to support and uplift fathers. Too often, our culture is saturated with male role models who settle scores with violence, degrade women, and idolize wealth. But the fathers I’m thinking of do something different.

They do the small, often unseen things that shape a child’s moral compass. They teach empathy through action by caring about those who are scorned or left out. They hold hands when times are tough and give hugs without hesitation. They listen without judging and consider their children’s needs before reacting.

If we want a less violent world, we need more fathers who understand that anger and violence are failures, not tools to gain power. These men show that relationships thrive when coercion is absent. Their example matters deeply, because the moral questions we face—and the consequences of our decisions—are growing more complex by the day.

Consider artificial intelligence. By 2027, some predict we’ll reach an inflection point where bots are teaching other bots how to build better bots. Given the wrong instructions, the consequences could be devastating: power grids shut down, wars triggered, lives lost. The potential for harm is immense. So is the potential for good.

Behind these technologies are people, mostly men. For society to endure and thrive, we need those men to be guided by a sense of responsibility, not just ambition. We need them to value the uplift of humanity more than becoming billionaires. That moral courage doesn’t appear out of nowhere. It’s often instilled by a father, not through grand speeches or heroic gestures, but through everyday interactions: how they treat teachers, neighbors, and strangers.

This Father’s Day, we honor those men and the quiet strength they pass on.

Is a Soft Landing Possible?

The turmoil we see in the news and on our social networks is, in many ways, a reflection of ourselves. If we want leaders—in politics, business, or religion—who remain calm during unrest, who reject the idea that the bottom line must push most people to the bottom, and who can build support without coercion, then we need fathers who model those values at home.

We need them to do so not just after a day at work, but also in the face of job loss, insecurity, and hardship.

It’s a significant ask, and we commend the fathers who can meet it, because our collective future depends on them. If we want a more peaceful society, it begins with fathers who have done the difficult, quiet work of finding peace within themselves.