The Death of Empathy in American Governance

When a U.S. Senator mocks the fear of dying without Medicaid, it’s not just politics; it’s a warning siren for American democracy’s moral collapse.

Guest article by Michael Cohen

Let’s rewind the tape.

Back to that infamous moment when Donald J. Trump, then a candidate for President of the United States, stood behind a podium and flailed his arms in grotesque mimicry of Serge Kovaleski, a disabled journalist. I remember watching in stunned silence, the pit of my stomach knotting—not just because of what he did, but because I knew the man. I knew the callous cruelty was not a misstep, not a gaffe; it was the point. Trump knew what he was doing, and worse, he knew it would thrill the crowd.

Fast forward to today, June 2025, and ask yourself: Are we better? The answer is as chilling as it is obvious.

When Trump mocked a Gold Star family, John McCain’s war hero status, immigrants, women, the disabled—he set the tone. Not just for his administration, but for an entire political movement that has since metastasized into something darker, crueler, and now fully mainstream within the Republican Party.

Which brings me to Senator Joni Ernst.

In a town hall in Parkersburg, Iowa, on May 30th, Ernst was asked about Medicaid cuts tucked neatly into Donald Trump’s tax-slashing bonanza for the ultra-wealthy. Someone in the audience—clearly worried about the very real consequences for the poor, the elderly, the disabled—shouted, “People will die!”

And what did Ernst say? Did she pause? Did she acknowledge the anguish, the fear in that person’s voice? Did she show even a flicker of the kind of compassion we once expected from our elected officials?

No.

She laughed. Then smirked. And replied, “People are not—well, we all are going to die. For heaven’s sakes, folks.”

That’s right. Medicaid cuts that could cost lives—whether due to lack of insulin, cancer treatment, nursing home support—were waved off as a cosmic inevitability. Death is certain, so who cares if we accelerate it with brutal policy?

This wasn’t a slip. It wasn’t an “out of context” quote, as her communications team might spin. No, it was emblematic of a deeply disturbing trend in our politics: the normalization of indifference.

She even doubled down, posting a smug, sarcastic "apology" video on social media, complete with faux sincerity and mockery of the very people she was elected to serve. That’s not leadership. That’s performance cruelty.

Let’s call this what it is: the death of empathy in American governance.

Trump didn’t just give permission to behave like this; he made it aspirational. And now we see his acolytes, like JD Vance, Stephen Miller, and Joni Ernst, tripping over themselves to channel that same venomous energy. Not because it makes for good policy, but because it gets clicks, gets cheers, gets power.

The rot has gone deeper than we realize. It’s no longer just about policy differences or ideology. This is about morality. It’s about whether we believe a government should serve the vulnerable—or sacrifice them.

We are witnessing a government that no longer hides its contempt for the people who rely on it. Cuts to Medicaid, attacks on Social Security, the criminalization of homelessness, forced deportations of migrants to war zones—these are not just numbers on a spreadsheet. These are lives. These are people.

And when a U.S. Senator jokes about those lives, it is not just offensive; it is disqualifying.

But Ernst is not alone. She’s merely saying the quiet part out loud, just like Trump did in 2015—and again every single day since. This is who they are. This is the new GOP.

The cruelty isn’t a byproduct. It’s not accidental. It’s the fuel.

As someone who stood beside Trump for over a decade, I can tell you: this behavior spreads. It metastasizes. Because cruelty is cheap. It's easy. And in today’s Republican Party, it's rewarded.

So what do we do?

We remember. We remember that the role of public servants is to serve—not mock, not destroy, not dehumanize. We organize. We vote. We hold these people accountable—not just with our outrage, but with our action.

Because if we don’t, then Ernst is right.

We are all going to die.

But we’ll die under a government that laughed as it handed us the knife.

THIS IS PERSONAL. ARE YOU WITH ME?

JOIN ME—AND PUT A STOP TO THIS INSANITY.

If you’re reading this, it means you give a damn. About truth. About justice. About saving democracy from the grip of liars, grifters, and power-drunk con men. But here’s the truth: I can’t do this alone.

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