Mercieca is a professor of communication at Texas A&M University. Shaffer is an associate professor at Kansas State University.
When the governing body of the Republican Party called the events of Jan. 6, 2021, “legitimate public discourse,” it renewed a sometimes-furious debate about what are, and aren’t, acceptable forms of discussion and debate in a democratic society.
This question has emerged frequently in recent years, with complaints about inappropriate methods of protest, efforts to take particular viewpoints off social media, and accusations that various people are disseminating misleading information. But the issue took on new urgency on Feb. 4, 2022, when the Republican National Committee censured U.S. Reps. Liz Cheney of Wyoming and Adam Kinzinger of Illinois.
They are the only Republicans serving on the House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack on the United States Capitol. The governing body of the Republican Party said this meant they were “participating in a Democrat-led persecution of ordinary citizens engaged in legitimate political discourse.”
As researchers who study the relationship between communication and democracy, we believe our insights can help citizens draw the line between “legitimate political discourse” and illegitimate political violence.
There are legal standards defining protected speech, but something that meets the legal definitions may not necessarily help build and maintain democracy. Scholarly definitions of the types of speech that are beneficial for democracy help make the issues clearer.
Persuasion, not coercion
Put most simply, speech that is designed to teach people about other viewpoints and persuade them to change their minds – rather than pressuring them to take different actions – is good for democracy.
The key, as pointed out by communication scholar Daniel O'Keefe, is that the audience has “ some measure of freedom ” about receiving the message and choosing how to act upon it.
Persuasion, even in its most vigorous and aggressive form, is an invitation. When a person seeks to persuade someone else to agree with their viewpoint or values, or to recall or ignore history in a particular way, the recipient may choose to go along, or not.
Coercion, on the other hand, is a kind of force – a command, not an invitation. Coercion denies others the freedom to choose for themselves whether to agree or disagree. Coercion and violence are anti-democratic because they deny others their ability to consent. Violence and coercion are the very opposite of legitimate political discourse.
Politics is not war, and legitimate political discourse is not violence.
‘Be a citizen, not a partisan,’ says Jennifer Mercieca, a historian of political discourse.
What about protest?
Protests can take many forms. In their most democratic form, political scientist Mary Scudder notes that protests “ can improve the deliberativeness of a political system by putting important problems on the agenda or introducing new arguments into the public sphere.” Protest helps people to be aware of the views held by others, even if different groups disagree vehemently.
In the name of democracy, scholars of communication, free speech and deliberation have said protesters deserve to be heard and given as much latitude as possible to communicate with the public. In part, that is because protesters may represent underprivileged or mistreated people whose messages may be hard for powerful interests to hear.
But impassioned protest can sometimes seem like an attempt at coercion, especially for people who feel targeted by the protesters’ messages.
Persuasion and coercion on Jan. 6
The Republican National Committee would like Americans to focus on the peaceful protesters who gathered on Jan. 6, 2021, to hear President Donald Trump’s speech at the Ellipse – and ignore the violence at the Capitol.
If we look at the Ellipse, we see a vibrant, and legitimate, political protest with signs, chants and speeches. If we look at the Capitol, by contrast, we see illegitimate political violence, including people using bear spray, erecting a hangman’s noose and assaulting others.
The link between them was Trump’s speech. He used a particular combination of rhetorical strategies, calling for a plague to be removed so that the nation could be pure again; threatening force; and claiming that his group was good, strong, pure and sure of victory. He also made claims of victimhood, of having had something stolen from him and his supporters. This specific combination of rhetorical strategies has traditionally been used to motivate a nation for war.
That type of communication from a president can be legitimate political discourse when used to motivate a nation to war against another nation, though there have certainly been circumstances in American history in which that
power has been abused. But when the president uses that rhetoric against the democratic process in his own government in order to retain power, it is not legitimate political discourse. Rather, as scholars of authoritarianism have explained, using war rhetoric against your own nation amounts to an “autogolpe,” or “self-coup.”
When Trump urged the Ellipse crowd to march to the Capitol and “ fight like hell,” his words transformed an occasion of legitimate political discourse into an anti-democratic violent insurrection.
The result was real physical violence, characterized by Capitol Police Sgt. Aquilino Gonell, a 42-year-old veteran of the war in Iraq, as a “ medieval battle.” Several people died and many were injured.
American democracy was damaged as well. Lisa Murkowski, a Republican U.S. senator from Alaska, called the Republican National Committee’s characterization “false” and “wrong,” saying on Feb. 5, 2022, that the events at the Capitol were “ an effort to overturn a lawful election.”
Democracy isn’t a game. To respond with appropriate seriousness, Americans can’t frame moments such as Jan. 6 simply as a “ competition between left versus right, Democrat versus Republican; a battle of individuals and political factions,” writes communications scholar Dannagal Young. Those violent, coercive events are challenges to the real heart of democracy: peaceful persuasion and the rule of law.
Looking at the entirety of what occurred on Jan. 6, 2021, it’s clear that there was both legitimate protest and illegitimate political violence. When political violence replaces political discourse, and when political leaders refuse to play by the democratic rules of the game, democracies weaken, and may even die.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Click here to read the original article.



















A view of the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C., on June 25, 2026. President Donald Trump jolted Republicans during a fiery appearance at the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday, scrapping a housing bill signing ceremony and clashing behind closed doors with a party rebel who challenged him over the Iran war. Trump had been expected to sign the bipartisan housing.
Only Trump doesn’t care about housing
It was August 15, 2024. Then candidate Donald Trump stepped out of his Bedminster, New Jersey, golf club’s columned clubhouse to a gaggle of reporters. He was flanked by tables of groceries and signs showing the rising cost of food. Also on one of the tables was a dollhouse, meant to represent the equally alarming rise in housing prices.
It was a speech about the economy, the single most important issue of the 2024 election cycle, full of promises that went right to the heart of Americans’ anxieties. While former President Joe Biden and then Vice President Kamala Harris were contorting themselves to posture a good economy that just needed more time to recover from the pandemic, Trump was preying on voters’ very real fears of unaffordable gas, groceries, and homes. It was obviously a winning message.
In that speech, Trump promised, “We’re going to open up tracts of federal land for housing construction. We desperately need housing for people who can’t afford what’s going on now.”
As of mid-2023, there had been a housing shortage of nearly four million homes, according to the National Association of Realtors. Americans all over the country were either priced out of buying new homes due to low inventory, trapped in their existing homes by sky-high mortgage rates, or facing exorbitant rent hikes thanks to corporate investors buying up rental properties. Americans needed help, and Trump promised it.
Cut to March of 2026, when Trump reportedly told House Speaker Mike Johnson, “No one gives a sh*t about housing.”
That kind of thinking may explain why Trump this week suddenly announced he was canceling a signing ceremony for the bipartisan “21st Century ROAD to Housing Act,” a housing bill co-sponsored by Sens. Elizabeth Warren and Tim Scott that passed the House 358-32 and was approved in the Senate on Monday.
Trump instead demanded Congress pass the SAVE America Act, his controversial election grievance bill that doesn’t have enough Republican support to get passed in the Senate.
It’s just the latest in a line of policy self-owns where Trump has seemingly intentionally made life more difficult for Republicans hoping to keep their majority. Despite midterm elections occurring in the midst of a blistering economy and an unpopular war, they were surely hoping the housing bill would give them something — anything — to brag about when they returned home to their districts.
And very much to the contrary, Americans do give a sh*t about housing. According to a recent survey by the Bipartisan Policy Center, a whopping 79% say the cost of housing is extremely or very important to them. Eighty-three percent say Congress should take action on the issue — like it just did. Eighty-nine percent say the House and Senate need to work together to pass affordable housing legislation — like they just did. And 63% say they would be more likely to vote for a lawmaker if they helped pass legislation to build more affordable homes and lower housing costs — like they just did.
There aren’t many issues that unite Americans like housing does, and very few bipartisan policy wins Congress can point to, and yet, Trump is holding that bill hostage in order to get his pet project — which doesn’t even have the support of his own party — pushed through.
If you’re trying to make sense of something so nonsensical, as I’m sure many Republican lawmakers are, it’s certainly sad but not actually all that complicated. Trump said what he needed to get reelected and then promptly abandoned his promises in order to pursue his own self-interests, even if those interests are bad for Republicans and bad for voters.
That’s just the kind of guy he is.
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.