The death of Dick Cheney on Monday, November 3, 2025, marked the end of an era in American politics—one shaped by war, controversy, and the exercise of power at the highest levels. Cheney, who served as vice president under President George W. Bush from 2001 to 2009, was 84 years old. According to a memorial statement issued by his family, he was remembered as "a great and good man who taught his children and grandchildren to love our country, and to live lives of courage, honor, love, kindness, and fly fishing." Yet, as the news of his passing rippled through the nation and the world, reactions were as complex and multifaceted as the man himself.
Cheney's tenure as vice president was, by many accounts, unprecedented. As noted in USA Today, he was the unapologetic Wyoming Republican who "supercharged the office of vice president," wielding influence that some believed rivaled, or even surpassed, that of the president. Joel Goldstein, author of "The Modern American Vice Presidency," observed, "Only under Cheney was there ever the question whether or not the vice president might really have been running things." This perception of power extended far beyond the ceremonial duties typically associated with the vice presidency, placing Cheney at the very heart of the most consequential decisions of the early 21st century.
Much of Cheney's legacy is bound to the aftermath of the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. He was widely regarded as the chief architect of the "global war on terror," a campaign that fundamentally reshaped U.S. foreign policy and led to military interventions in Afghanistan and Iraq. As reported by Al Jazeera, Cheney's role in launching the war on terror resulted in "untold quantities of blood on his hands, particularly in Iraq." In the lead-up to the 2003 invasion, Cheney insisted that the "Iraqi regime" had been "very busy enhancing its capabilities in the field of chemical and biological agents" and continued "to pursue the nuclear programme they began so many years ago." These claims, later disproven, were instrumental in building public and congressional support for the war.
Cheney's confidence in the necessity of the Iraq war never wavered, even as the human and environmental costs mounted. Speaking to CNN twelve years after the invasion, he maintained, "It was the right thing to do then. I believed it then, and I believe it now." The consequences of the conflict were staggering: hundreds of thousands of Iraqi deaths, millions displaced, and a legacy of environmental hazards, including the use of depleted uranium munitions by U.S. forces. As Al Jazeera highlighted, such munitions "represent a formidable long-term environmental hazard as they will remain radioactive for more than 4.5 billion years," contributing to rising cancer rates in Iraq.
Beyond the battlefield, Cheney's career was marked by controversy over conflicts of interest. Before joining the Bush administration, he served as CEO of Halliburton, a major oil and engineering firm, from 1995 to 2000. In the wake of the Iraq invasion, Halliburton received $7 billion in no-bid contracts for reconstruction efforts. Critics saw this as emblematic of the revolving door between government and industry, and a stark example of how war and profit can become entwined.
Cheney's unapologetic stance extended to the use of "enhanced interrogation techniques"—methods widely condemned as torture. When the 2014 CIA torture report revealed practices such as rectal rehydration and waterboarding, Cheney was unrepentant, declaring, "I would do it again in a minute." His willingness to defend these actions, even in the face of international criticism and domestic unease, cemented his reputation as a hardliner, unbowed by the court of public opinion.
Yet, for all the controversy, Cheney's influence was undeniable. Both Republicans and Democrats acknowledged his role as the "most powerful vice president in American history," as USA Today summarized. The policies he championed—particularly those related to national security—continue to shape debates in Washington and beyond. The Iraq war, in particular, has become a touchstone for discussions about the limits of American power and the perils of nation-building, lessons that remain painfully relevant in today's volatile world.
As the editorial cartoons published on November 9, 2025, captured, Cheney's passing was part of a broader moment of political reckoning. The same week saw Democrats sweep key elections, including the historic victory of Zohran Mamdani as mayor of New York City, and the ongoing government shutdown that has gripped Washington. Cartoonists did not shy away from depicting Cheney as both an architect of post-9/11 conflicts and, later, a critic of Donald Trump. This duality—of being both a builder and a skeptic—reflects the contradictions that defined his public life.
Public reaction to Cheney's death was, unsurprisingly, divided. Some, like the letter-writer Michael J. Walzer in The Akron Beacon Journal, used the occasion to reflect on the corrosive nature of political hatred. Walzer recalled his own transformation after President Nixon's resignation in 1974, vowing "never to store such vicious feelings toward anyone ever again." While admitting that "not hating Cheney was a bit more difficult for obvious reasons," he found redemption in the patriotism of Cheney's daughter Liz Cheney, as well as other Republicans who, in his view, put country over party. "As a patriot, I don't vote because I have the right to do so, but rather an obligation to vote for candidates who also meet similar obligations in order to preserve the dignity of our republic and the democracy it defends," Walzer wrote.
Others, especially those critical of the Iraq war and the broader war on terror, saw Cheney's death as a moment to revisit the moral and strategic costs of his policies. As Al Jazeera put it, "Cheney died with untold quantities of blood on his hands," a stark reminder of the enduring consequences of decisions made in the White House Situation Room. For many, the wounds of those years remain unhealed, and the debates sparked by Cheney's legacy are far from settled.
Still, Cheney's family and supporters emphasized his personal virtues—his love of country, his devotion to family, and, yes, his passion for fly fishing. These private qualities, recounted in the family's memorial, offer a counterpoint to the public controversies that defined his career. In the end, Cheney was, like so many figures in American history, a man who inspired fierce loyalty and equally fierce opposition—a testament to the enduring complexities of power, patriotism, and the burdens of leadership.
The nation now turns the page, but the debates sparked by Dick Cheney's life and career will echo for years to come, shaping how Americans remember not just the man, but the era he helped define.
