Once, not too long ago, people with ideas aspired to enter politics by presenting their ideas, which were debated during rallies and speeches. Worthy candidates laid out a map to follow for election, and voters judged the best route. Within the past year, many high-profile Democrats have replaced maps with megaphones and words that would make World War II-era merchant marines proud, remaining confident that their volume equaled clarity, while anger equaled authenticity.
Although rhetorical shifts such as these grab attention for a single moment, the speakers never learned the lesson that attention without persuasion turns into nothing but a noisy treadmill.
Profanity signals emotion, and emotion sells in an algorithmic marketplace. Strategists, using lessons learned from trials long ago, know that a jolt of outrage can feel like action, an addictive sensation during tight news cycles, especially when news cycles are particularly tense, as when a party struggles to articulate fixes for inflation, border security, urban disorder, and classroom decline. Microphones amplify syllables because a governing coalition needs sentences that add up to a plan.
Profanity as a Shortcut That Skips the Work
Swearing initially affects the emotional part of our brain. Psychologists and linguists have reported for decades on taboo words bypassing filters, which may explain why a crowd feels a sudden surge of emotion when a forbidden word is unleashed by politicians yelling off-script, using their emotions instead of what was planned.
When single instances, such as this made-up one, become part of larger patterns—especially over the past year, when we’re seeing less scripting and more salty talk to appear more authentic, or ‘Trump-like’—they can have a broader impact. There are increasing reports of Democrats moving away from their scripts while working out Trump-y kinds of insults– which, to be honest, always sounds like they’re rehearsing.
We’re seeing a political party using rhetorical speech as a substitute for substance. Harsh words can feel like tough policy, but voters need precise blueprints to address issues like prices, safety, and schools. What those voters are seeing are speeches that rely on shock value, where applause lines come first, yet the policy paragraphs seem to be skipped.
Operatives openly speak about those shifts. Politico repots on Dems seemingly carpet-bombing F-bombs to reconnect with voters in a climate where polite soundbites die from parched tongues and minds alike, starved of real conviction. In fact, the author traces a lineage from Tom Perez’s profane 2017 riffs to today’s broader acceptance of coarse language as a deliberate tactic rather than a slip.
Cursing is, of course, not new in politics. Among operatives, principals, and journalists, it is a familiar way to broker instant bonhomie. Nor is it new for the Democratic Party, particularly when confronting Trump: Former DNC Chair Tom Perez frequently deployed profanity in 2017 in stump speeches, saying, for example, that Trump didn’t “give a shit about health care.”
However, the breadth of swearing is unmistakable, having become newly fashionable among members of a party in the wilderness who are seeking shortcuts to authenticity to channel voters’ rage.
Strategy or Loss of Control
Today, we’re seeing consultants selling the concept of authenticity the way Earl Scheib sold paint; it may be needed, but you’ll pay for it because everybody else is paying for it. Claiming “accidental” doesn’t work when the exact words show up in prefab clips, donor emails, and late-night TV banter. The pattern signals more strategy than spontaneity; coordinated edges that work to mimic the plain-spoken force of President Trump, while simultaneously concealing a thin policy shelf. People don’t cotton to restaurants promising a large slice of homemade Dutch apple pie only to receive elephant ears instead. The same holds when the Democrats copy only the tone of what they’re screaming instead of sharing a smidgeon of substance—voters remember lived outcomes a helluva more than short-lived hashtag energy.
It’s taken a while, but even sympathetic outlets are framing this cuss’n posture as a broader fight-dirty moment on the left, where leaders argue about bending norms because they’re facing one existential crisis after another. Analysts describe a party sprinting from conciliatory elders towards a more combative brand that treats rhetorical guardrails as optional.
When the value proposition becomes a permanent state of combat, profanity becomes a uniform, not an accident.
Algorithms Reward Anger; Coalitions Don’t
Platforms amplify content that spikes emotion. A recent experimental study found that posts full of profanity and toxicity drive curiosity and perceived entertainment—regardless of the fact that, when welfare drops, irritation rises.
As we’ve seen for many years, the internet rewards hot language; real voters reward solutions that are durable, while chasing short-term engagement that yields retweets and clips. In the meantime, governing requires persuasion across differences that can’t simply be shouted away.
As time marches on, pollsters begin to quantify the political risk. Coverage of recent surveys indicates that Americans continue to value decorum in public life, with a significant share telling researchers that public profanity isn’t appropriate for leaders. Voters under 35 often shrug, while those over 35 recoil; moderates in swing states demonstrate the most considerable recoil.
Recent trends include campaigns that normalize profanity, with it rarely being contained to rallies. Local parties have picked up the cue, and statehouse press gaggles have started sounding like greenrooms. In the meantime, the rhetorical bar keeps falling. Recently, an outlet in Minnesota chronicled Democratic officials who cursed in official contexts, including commentary from swearing historians and communication pros who warned that voters can smell a staged swear the way a hunter smells a campfire on a windy day. Planted Curses reads like theater, not candor, with audiences punishing theaters that pretend to be the truth.
We’ve reached the point where even national personalities who built careers on clever shock are noticing fatigue. Recently, the New York Post ran an opinion piece that lamented that the famous, ah, four-letter word has lost its sting because of how saturated it has become because of liberal celebrities and allied politicians. Overuse has turned a once-sharp instrument into a tired tic, which aligns with broader cultural logic: whenever elites deploy shock as a brand, audiences either move on or tune out.
Authenticity Without Results Ages Poorly
As a pro-Trump voter, I expect and tolerate our president’s rough edges because his record is strong when compared to his predecessors: border posture has been hardened, judicial picks have reshaped legal debates for a generation, and energy policy has favored production over creating a perception of scarcity.
Voters can dislike a word and still respect a result. Democrats tried to reverse that equation by polishing their style, while results lagged; now a faction is attempting the opposite by roughing up their style, while results still lag. A tone that’s rough and lacking measurable improvement comes across as panic, not strength.
President Trump uttered a rare public curse that generated widespread coverage, primarily because the movement felt raw and unvarnished rather than scripted. If there’s conviction behind action, before any microphones were turned on, authenticity shatters screens.
Politicians attempting to create a viral moment using stage props, such as a whiteboard and thesaurus, often undermine authenticity.
At this point in this column, I need to pause. I have every intention of convincing you that I worked very hard to locate a recent example of a mainstream politician, but sometimes that low fruit is begging to be picked:
The Consequences for Civic Life
The same tradeoff applies to every party: anger snaps a crowd to attention, then quietly erodes trust, uniting true believers while undermining the pathway to persuading voters who might be open to change.
Lead with profanity, then the audience narrows to people who want to shout and cheer, but they don’t need policies: A routine that works for a weekend rally.
Meanwhile, governing needs discipline, detail, and calm.
There’s an additional civic cost to this equation. Standards exist to protect the commonality we all share. Families can argue about policy while sitting around their dinner table, all while maintaining a language that allows grandparents and grandchildren to stay in the same room. Civility is the housekeeping of public life; let it slide, and the grime starts to feel normal. Restoring civility to public life takes longer than anyone thinks.
Final Thoughts
Words serve as our political currency; spend them wisely to purchase trust, organize confidence, and build coalitions that are built to survive the next storm. Recklessly spend, and you end up broke, chasing virality because governing results never arrive. Many Democrats proudly wear profanity like a varsity letter, sure that a little attitude replaces answers.
Voters paying mortgages, filling lunch boxes, and navigating violent city blocks beg for results instead of dirty speeches. Governments can’t cuss a budget into balance, schools can’t curse reading scores to rise, and borders aren’t secured by spicing up nouns and verbs.
As an altar boy, I learned an early lesson: The language I choose reflects the respect I hold for those in front of me. America doesn’t need saints reading behind the lectern; it needs leaders whose words inspire action, meeting the moment.
Profanity fills a clip. Policy fills a life.
Through the Cursing: Get the Facts That Matter
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