On a crisp, sunlit morning in Washington, D.C., the city’s Dupont Circle buzzes with life. Holiday lights twinkle on the Christmas tree near the fountain, merchants bustle at the Dupont Holiday Market, and locals seek warmth and connection in neighborhood bakeries. It’s a scene that, for many, evokes the resilience and social spirit that helped Americans weather the isolation of the COVID-19 shutdowns back in the spring of 2020—a time when mental health was tested, and the value of daily human contact became all too clear.
But even as Washington’s streets offer comfort, the political climate remains anything but cozy. Recent events have highlighted the deep divisions in American society, with public discourse often sliding into incivility. According to a December 19, 2025, report from the Washington Post, the tragic deaths of Rob and Michele Reiner—staunch advocates for marriage equality—became a flashpoint when former President Donald Trump posted what many considered a callous remark about them. The backlash was swift, with voices across the spectrum condemning the former president’s lack of empathy. The Washington Post notes, "The widespread condemnation of the president’s nasty remarks after the tragic deaths of Rob and Michele Reiner at least established a floor in terms of public civility."
Yet, the fallout from Trump’s post did more than spark outrage; it reignited debate over the tone of American politics. While some of Trump’s defenders on social media—sometimes bots, sometimes real people—attempted to draw moral equivalencies, claiming "the left" celebrated the murder of conservative figure Charlie Kirk, the record shows otherwise. As reported, "Many liberals deplored Kirk’s murder, including Reiner, who responded with empathy." The article points out that acknowledging Kirk’s history of extreme statements is not the same as celebrating his death, pushing back against what it calls a "monstrous" misrepresentation.
This episode is only the latest in a series of clashes that have left many Americans questioning the state of public debate. Trump’s critics argue that his behavior—both online and in policy—has normalized a kind of sociopathy. The Washington Post suggests, "To the extent that Trump’s sociopathy has been normalized, we must strive to un-normalize it." Yet, the piece also offers a reminder: disagreement is not the problem; it’s how those disagreements are handled. The focus, it argues, should be on substance, not personal attacks.
Take, for example, the controversy surrounding the Secretary of Health and Human Services, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. The real concern, the article contends, isn’t Kennedy’s raspy voice, but the risk of a dramatic uptick in deaths from preventable diseases due to his relentless attacks on vaccines. The debate, in other words, should center on policy and its consequences, not on personalities.
Of course, the urge to weaponize political differences isn’t limited to one side. The article highlights how some Republicans blame all Democrats for the inflammatory comments of a few progressives, yet refuse to hold their own leaders to the same standard. It’s a pattern that, critics argue, undermines efforts to restore civility and truth to public discourse. The piece warns against "sabotaging our constitutional republic," pointing to Trump’s record of aggressive actions—from seizing an oil tanker off Venezuela to floating the idea of taking over Greenland and Canada, or retaking the Panama Canal—as evidence of a broader disregard for international cooperation. As the Washington Post observes, "It makes no sense to dismantle the international order that America led in creating, only to replace it with one based not on cooperation but on America acting—as Trump himself—as a bully."
Meanwhile, the article draws a sharp contrast between figures like Kim Davis of Kentucky, who denied marriage licenses to gay couples, and Rob and Michele Reiner, who championed marriage equality. The difference, it suggests, lies in respect for others—a quality that seems in short supply in today’s polarized environment. The piece concludes with a call to resist the "weaponization" of religion, especially during the Christmas season, urging people of faith to practice compassion rather than using their beliefs as a cudgel.
While these debates rage on, another former president faces a very different set of challenges. According to a December 20, 2025, report in the Boston Herald, Joe Biden is struggling to raise funds for his presidential library—a tradition that has become a costly, if controversial, hallmark of American political life. The report takes a wry tone, poking fun at suggestions that Biden could sell his vintage 1967 Chevy Stingray or even souvenir classified documents to raise money. "That would be beneath the dignity of a former president," the Boston Herald quips, though it notes that a former vice president "might be able to get away with it."
The article puts Biden’s predicament in historical context. When Harry S. Truman left office in 1953, he returned quietly to Independence, Missouri, and his friends built him a modest library for $1.7 million. Fast-forward to Barack Obama, whose presidential library in Chicago is expected to cost over $1 billion by the time it opens in 2026—a far cry from Truman’s humble beginnings. The Boston Herald describes Obama’s library as "almost as large as Obama’s ego," featuring a basketball court and towering over Jackson Park like the "Rock of Gibraltar."
Biden’s library foundation, by contrast, received no donations in 2024—"nada, zero, zilch," as the article puts it—relying solely on $4 million left over from his inauguration, according to The New York Times. The foundation is now headed by Rufus Gifford, a seasoned Obama fundraiser and former ambassador to Denmark. The article floats the idea that Obama might offer Biden some space in his own library, joking, "Biden did, after all, serve as Obama’s loyal vice president for eight years, which should count for something."
In a tongue-in-cheek twist, the article suggests that Biden could tap into the estimated 20 million illegal immigrants who entered the country during his presidency—"nobody really knows," it adds—for donations. "A modest $10 a head" could net $200 million, the piece calculates, enough to give every donor a free pass to the library and ensure at least some foot traffic. The Boston Herald frames this as a way for Biden to turn one of his most controversial policies—opening the borders—into a fundraising boon. It also references the "disastrous" withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021, which cost the lives of 13 American soldiers, as a major blemish on Biden’s record.
As the year draws to a close, Americans find themselves grappling with both the tone and substance of their politics. From the icy sidewalks of Dupont Circle to the marble halls of presidential libraries, the nation’s divisions are on full display. Yet, amid the rancor and rivalry, there are calls for a return to empathy, substance, and a genuine respect for truth—a hope, perhaps, as enduring as the holiday lights that brighten the winter darkness.
