On February 26, Missouri State Auditor Tom Schweich, the GOP frontrunner to replace outgoing governor Jay Nixon in 2016, shot and killed himself in what is being described by police as an “apparent suicide.” Schweich’s death stunned Missouri state officials, many of whom echoed Governor Nixon’s comments that Schweich was a “devoted and accomplished public servant.” His death came amidst controversy that some within the state GOP were mounting a whisper campaign regarding his Jewish heritage.
The details and exact motivation for Schweich’s suicide may never be disclosed or even knowable, but his death raises deep issues about the nature of politics and the scope of a candidate’s personal life that should enter the public discourse. While it may be difficult to determine guidelines for what aspects of a candidate’s private life ought to be off-limits to the public, the harms that arise from prolonged scrutiny of a candidate’s most intimately-held beliefs merit serious examination of what constitutes acceptable open discussion.
Though it is still unclear whether Schweich’s death was a result of the alleged comments made regarding his Jewish roots, some close to Schweich said that the remarks deeply disturbed him. The nature of Schweich’s mental health is also uncertain, as local police have yet to comment on the existence of a suicide note or a family history of mental illness.
Schweich’s suicide may have been motivated in part by a fear of voter reactions to a Jewish candidate. The alleged anti-Semitic comments, whether true or false, came in a state where just last year three people were killed by a known anti-Semite at a Jewish community center. This is also the state where, only a day before Schweich’s death, the Anti-Defamation League reported on the rise of white supremacist prison gangs.
The injection of Schweich’s personal life so soon into a campaign still over a year away might have made juggling his job as State Auditor, gubernatorial candidate, husband, and father all the more difficult, and untrue allegations regarding his religion likely complicated Schweich’s life beyond what was reasonable for a person in his position.
Even if it turns out that scrutinizing Schweich’s religion contributed to his suicide, some might argue that unrestricted discourse is the bedrock of American democracy and any attempt to abridge discussion should be avoided. Naturally, then, the problem arises of whether some issues are so divisive and harmful that they merit a restriction upon the marketplace of ideas.
Schweich’s tragedy doesn’t prove a need to restrict all types of negative campaigning, but it does merit a reconsideration of how much of a politician’s personal life should be subject to unlimited scrutiny. Politics is, by nature, a precarious venture: candidates aren’t always going to play nice and people’s feelings are going to be hurt. While democracy requires full voter participation and information, including what faith a candidate belongs to, politicians should not level religiously-prejudiced comments at one another to advance their own political agenda. Religion should not be hidden from voters, but it should not be used to dismantle someone’s candidacy.
The public should respond to Schweich’s passing by developing a strong community of support for those politicians impacted most by prejudicial comments. The public should send a message to the culprits in each situation that it is unacceptable to use another candidate’s religion as a means to an end. By building a network of solidarity with those affected, the community at-large can discourage personal attacks that distress the mental health of those targeted by vicious whisper campaigns. We, as citizens, ought to support and defend honest men like Tom Schweich from the cruel attacks of political adversaries. Words can hurt, but an outpouring of support can be a potent shield against defamation and rumor.
Tom Schweich’s tragically early death gives us a chance to reevaluate how we treat the intersection of religion and politics. Politicians are people too, and we ought to view them as such. In the case of Schweich, we ought to view his suicide as a chance to achieve something greater—a chance to make the field of politics if not devoid of insults, at least somewhat purer.
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