The open season mindset poisoning America

The open season mindset poisoning America

Especially on the left, myriad societal factors are breaking down the guardrails that once made political violence anathema to the vast majority of Americans.

Allan J. Feifer for American Thinker

Day of the Jackal was one of my favorite movies. The Jackal was a meticulous, anonymous assassin known only as “The Jackal” hired to kill the French President, triggering an intense manhunt as he methodically advanced toward his target. The almost inevitability of the Jackal murdering his target pretty much kept you on the edge of your seat.

Cole Allen is no Jackal. Nor were Thomas Crooks or Ryan Routh, plus a host of other low-lifes who had mental problems and attempted entry at Trump Tower, Mar-a-Lago, Trump National Doral, and the Trump International Hotel (DC), some with guns and murderous intent, but no real plan. What does all this mean?

There are moments in history when the guardrails of political life feel as if they’ve been kicked loose, when the normal restraints that keep fringe actors on the sidelines suddenly fail, and when individuals who once would have remained invisible decide that the way to matter is through violence.

America is living through such a moment now. It has become, in effect, open season—not in the cartoonish, slapstick sense of the animated film where hunters chase a bewildered bear through the woods, but in the darker, more literal sense of a political climate where the presidency itself has become a target for people seeking relevance, validation, or a sense of purpose.

There is no modern corollary to the number of individuals who have tried to insert themselves into the political process through force, up to and including attempts on a sitting president. While only one incident meets the formal definition of an assassination attempt, the broader pattern is unmistakable: a steady stream of threats, breaches, and violent disruptions that reveal a deeper sickness in the political culture.

What makes this era different is not simply the presence of a polarizing figure in the Oval Office, but the environment in which political identity now operates. Previous presidents provoked intense fear, anger, and even hatred, yet the public did not see the same level of activation among fringe individuals.

Today, however, people are reacting inside a system engineered for constant stimulation, outrage, and identity-level conflict. Social media accelerates grievance, isolates people into ideological silos, and rewards the most extreme expressions with attention.

Institutions that once absorbed or moderated public emotion are now widely distrusted, leaving some individuals convinced that only direct action—even reckless or symbolic—can make them visible. Add to that a 24-hour news cycle, collapsing civic norms, and a culture that treats politics as existential rather than procedural, and you get a landscape where far more people become activated, destabilized, or convinced that dramatic intervention is justified.

In this environment, the metaphor of open seasonbecomes more than rhetorical. It describes a psychological shift: the sense among certain individuals that the usual boundaries no longer apply, that the target is exposed, and that taking a shot—literal or symbolic—will be rewarded with attention, validation, or a sense of moral righteousness. The presidency becomes the bear in the clearing, surrounded not by hunters with licenses but by amateurs, opportunists, and unstable actors who believe the moment has given them permission.

Many commentators argue that certain political forces on the left—including some elected officials, activist networks, and media ecosystems—have contributed to this climate by promoting a sense of moral entitlement that resonates strongly with individuals already on the margins. When political rhetoric frames opposition as illegitimate, oppressive, or dangerous, and when disruptive tactics are celebrated as righteous forms of “resistance,” fringe actors can interpret that as permission to escalate.

In this view, a steady narrative of grievance, emergency, and moral absolution lowers the psychological barriers that would normally keep unstable or impulsive individuals from inserting themselves into politics through confrontation or spectacle. The result is not necessarily that mainstream leaders intend violence (though I believe some do), but that their language and posture can unintentionally activate people who otherwise would have remained isolated, passive, or politically disengaged.

This dynamic is intensified by the way political narratives are constructed and amplified. When a political movement repeatedly signals that its goals are morally superior and that its opponents threaten democracy, public safety, or basic human rights, it creates a psychological environment in which extreme actions can feel justified.

For individuals already predisposed to instability or grievance, this becomes a form of moral licensing: the belief that extraordinary circumstances require extraordinary measures. The more political actors frame the moment as a crisis, the more likely fringe individuals are to interpret it as a personal call to action.

Some analysts further argue that the current wave of political violence, far from undermining the left, reinforces a narrative that benefits them strategically. Each new incident becomes another data point used to portray Trump as uniquely dangerous or destabilizing, and the violence itself becomes political fuel—a way to keep their base in a constant state of emotional activation.

The more chaos that surrounds him, the easier it becomes to argue that he is the source of it, and the more effectively they can dampen his ability to communicate, govern, or shape the national conversation. In a tight midterm environment, this constant drumbeat of alarm can help shift marginal voters, suppress enthusiasm among the undecided, and create an atmosphere in which the left’s preferred narrative dominates through sheer repetition and emotional intensity.

The result is a political landscape that feels increasingly like open season—a moment when the normal protections of civic life seem weakened, when the presidency appears exposed, and when individuals on the fringe feel unusually emboldened. The danger is not only the violence itself, but the way it reshapes public perception, hardens political identities, and distorts the democratic process. In this environment, the line between political participation and political disruption becomes increasingly blurred, and the consequences for national stability grow more severe.

God Bless America!

Image created using AI.