In the aftermath of the shooting of Charlie Kirk, Utah Gov. Spencer Cox has appeared to be a voice of reason.

Like many public figures, he has called for a reduction in hyped-up reactionary rhetoric. Moreover, he has implored us to take on personal responsibility – to look inward to find the better parts of our nature, to read scripture and to pray for a more peaceful world.

Cox believes that if we want to alter the current trend toward intolerance and violence – if we want to reclaim the Soul of America – we must let our conscience guide us, and not social media or our political leaders.

The governor is partially right: social media has become a social disease. It tempts us to ignore the real world as we immerse ourselves in faceless virtual communities wherein Truth is whatever we want it to be. It is like opium for those who feel depressed or alone, or like cocaine for those who feel weak and powerless. For too many people, social media is an addiction, and with addiction comes a desperate need to feed the beast. The owner of the beast – let’s call it the Devil – thrives on chaos, lies, hatred and divisions. Sad to say, it lives happily among us today.

However, the fovernor is also advising us to NOT listen to those whom we elected as our leaders. If that is the case, then what are political leaders for? Who do they serve? What purpose do they have if not to promote the good of the people? And what about the guy at the top, the President? It is apparent that Cox, along with many other majority leaders, are telling us to “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!”

No, governor. I can’t go along with the idea that we must stand alone as individuals – that fighting the demons within our souls will help us win the war against hate and violence. We need leadership. We need to hear the kind of rhetoric that inspires courage and righteousness, that unites rather than divides. Especially in these times of internal strife, we need to hear the voice of a Captain who will guide the ship through the storm to a safe haven where repairs can be made and recourse determined.

We have heard such voices in the past. Abraham Lincoln, who must have felt in his soul the gathering storm of Civil War, wrote this in his first inaugural address:

“Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battle-field, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearth-stone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

Seventy years later, as America floundered in a seemingly hopeless economic crisis, Franklin Delano Roosevelt delivered this message in his first inaugural address as a prelude to his New Deal, the government program that saved the nation:

“So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself — nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance. In every dark hour of our national life a leadership of frankness and vigor has met with that understanding and support of the people themselves which is essential to victory. I am convinced that you will again give that support to leadership in these critical days.”

These were men of integrity and grace who had suffered great adversity in their personal lives. They were strong of will, firm in purpose, and eloquent in speech and manner. And if either was here today, we could expect an insistence on unity as a nation, on forgiveness over retribution, accountability over blame, and truth over lies.

As a damaged nation, we need a leader who can begin the healing process. We need someone who can inspire trust in his or her governance, who can move us through dignity of character and the transformative power of words.

We need someone to remind us that the schools our children attend, and the buses that take them there, are painted neither red nor blue. That our libraries, museums and other cultural institutions are multicolored. That a red sunset on blue water ushers in a million stars. And that diversity, not nuclear weapons, has always been our greatest strength.

Pete Howard, writer and musician, vive en Dunkirk. Comments welcome at odyssmusic20@gmail.com