Violence, in itself, will always have negative connotations and represent the cruelty of the human race.
It is a weapon wielded by mouth or by hand, by the righteous or corrupt. Both sides of the coin of morality utilize it as a choice of control and resistance. In order to understand why violence has been used, and why it was necessary in the first place, we must explore differing perspectives, grasping how it led to the results of today.
Was that violence just? Was it ethical? Can any one person even form an overarching decision on whether violence is an acceptable or detrimental act? In the context of politics, it can, and has been, both.
Whether characterized by the smashed cardboard sign of a protester, or a bomb detonated 600 meters above ground, violence is reoccurring and constant. But outside of the smoke, it’s been realized that violence is unfortunately unavoidable, and can be used for the greater good. Time and time again, it has been the lever prying open closed systems; the alarm bell ringing when governments refuse to listen.
In revolutions, heads will surely roll, either mentally or physically, and in the French Revolution, they aimed for the visceral choice. If this internationally known incident has taught us anything, it proves that violence can ensure even the common man that their demands can be met with the right amount of force. In this case, violence was executed by distressed French men and women overthrowing a monarchy that frankly, was a bit of a showoff. Not only were they successful in their endeavors, but they stood as an example to the rest of the world for what people could achieve through unity. It is this shattering of an old world order that emphasizes the importance of such movements.
The mid-twentieth century revealed deep fractures within the United States itself. The realization of a lack of rights and an emergence of an unresponsive government provoked the citizens of America to fill the streets with large painted banners and a sudden collective voice. The Civil Rights Movement lasted over a decade, as African Americans and their allies confronted a government unwilling to extend the full promises of democracy. They organized marches, sit-ins and boycotts, insisting that the nation live up to its founding ideals. Yet it was often the brutality against them that gave their movement its greatest force. Images of peaceful demonstrators beaten on bridges, jailed for demanding basic dignity or murdered for their defiance seared themselves into the national conscience. Broadcast across television screens, the violence exposed the moral bankruptcy of segregation compelling lawmakers and citizens alike to acknowledge the urgency of civil rights reforms.
Only a few years later, when the injustices occurring in the Vietnam War came to light, even more movements gained traction. The violence during this era was a blur of screaming activists and police force fighting on the streets, with fists a blazing set against the song “For What It’s Worth” by Buffalo Springfield playing in the background. The blood spilt here, and the war torn foreign country overseas was able to force the government to reckon with the will of the people. Though costly, the unrest eventually pressured leaders to withdraw American troops, leaving behind the lesson that collective resistance, even when marred by violence, could shape the course of national policy.
In September, Nepal was thrust into a youth-led revolution, ignited by mounting frustration over government corruption, unemployment and a sweeping social media ban that symbolized the silencing of dissent. What began as a protest soon escalated into the country’s deadliest unrest in decades, leaving at least 74 dead and more than 2,100 injured. For many underdeveloped nations, where ballots cannot reliably dislodge entrenched power, they can have no choice but to act out and unionize with their peers. In Nepal, the tear gas and rubber bullets fired on demonstrators did not extinguish their resolve; instead, the movement forced the resignation of Prime Minister K.P. Sharma Oli, signaling a decisive step toward dismantling years of political abuse.
Just as often, violence escapes control, casting a shadow far darker than the change it seeks to achieve. It is usually not a clean weapon and can result in more harm and damage than benefit. The trauma from such events can last generations, and can deepen the polarization of a society. In 1945, this violence was represented by unprecedented means of military weaponry in the form of the atomic bomb. Just moments after the dropping in Hiroshima, tens of thousands were instantly extinguished after witnessing a blinding flash in their skies. Far from bringing clarity or peace, the attacks deepened global anxieties, ushered in the nuclear age and left a legacy of grief and fear that continues to haunt humanity.
On September 10, 2025, at Utah Valley University, conservative activist Charlie Kirk was assassinated before a crowd of hundreds. The tragedy was not only the loss of a single life, but also a blow to the democratic principle that disputes should be resolved through dialogue, not force. Political violence of this kind corrodes with fear and intimidation. Silencing a voice — no matter how polarizing — sets a dangerous precedent that undermines free expression. History continuously echoes such moments, and each reminds us of the same unsettling truth: when violence replaces discourse, humanity is diminished and democracy grows weaker.
History leaves us with an uneasy paradox. Political violence has shattered oppressive systems and forced long-overdue reform, yet it has just as often deepened wounds, silenced voices and eroded the foundations of democracy. It is both a catalyst and a curse. Its power lies not only in the immediate rupture it creates, but in how societies choose to respond in the aftermath. Progress emerges when outrage is transformed into reform; devastation endures when fear hardens into division.
Political violence reminds us that the fight for justice and the preservation of democracy must be waged not through destruction alone, but through the difficult work of building systems resilient enough to hear the people before blood is shed. When politics answers only to violence, no one truly wins.
