Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Statues, Plaques, and the Art of Hero Worship Gone Completely Sideways

If you ever needed a single, crystalline example of how upside-down our political moment has become, look no further than the Turning Point event where GOP leaders—Mike Johnson included—floated the idea of erecting a statue of Charlie Kirk in the U.S. Capitol Rotunda. Yes, that Rotunda. The one reserved for people who shaped the nation, preserved democracy, or at minimum didn’t build a career out of yelling into microphones and confusing decibels with ideas.

Let’s savor the audacity. Not content with book deals, donor lists, and a permanent residency in the algorithm, we now apparently need to immortalize Charlie Kirk in marble. Because when future generations tour the Capitol, nothing explains American democracy better than: “Here stands the podcaster who perfected the art of grievance cosplay.”

Meanwhile—and this is not a metaphor or a talking point—the same people clutching pearls over “political symbolism” refuse to hang a plaque honoring the January 6 Capitol Police officers. Not because it’s controversial. Not because it’s complicated. But despite the inconvenient fact that Congress literally passed a law requiring that plaque to be installed.

That’s right. This isn’t some symbolic gesture stalled in committee or lost in bureaucratic purgatory. The plaque honoring the officers who physically held the line against a violent mob is mandated by law. And it still hasn’t gone up. Apparently, in today’s GOP, the rule of law is sacred—right up until it makes them uncomfortable.

Because hanging that plaque would require acknowledging a reality they are desperate to memory-hole: that on January 6, law enforcement wasn’t protecting Republicans from Democrats, or patriots from tyrants. They were protecting democracy from radical right Trump supporters who tried to overturn an election they didn’t like.

That’s a harder story to swallow than carving Charlie Kirk’s haircut into limestone.

So instead, we get fantasy hero worship. Not of courage, sacrifice, or public service, but of ideological loyalty and media clout. The modern Republican Party doesn’t want heroes who defend institutions; it wants influencers who attack them while insisting they’re the real victims.

The Capitol Rotunda, once a space meant to honor those who upheld the republic, is now being auditioned as a shrine to outrage capitalism. A podcast studio with better lighting and worse consequences.

The contrast couldn’t be clearer. A plaque honoring officers who upheld the law—required by law—is ignored. A statue for a political activist who has never defended the Capitol in his life is enthusiastically proposed.

If this feels like the most insane thing you’ve heard all year, that’s because it is. In today’s GOP, bravery under fire earns you silence. Obedience to the narrative earns you marble. And democracy, apparently, can wait—again.