Viewpoint: Daines’ silence was louder than Carl’s hate

Doug James

Let’s stop pretending this was normal.

Steve Daines walked into a U.S. Senate hearing and introduced a man from his own hometown. A man blistered, on national television, for antisemitic rhetoric, for parroting “replacement theory,” for claiming January 6 rioters were treated worse than Black Americans under Jim Crow.

That man is Jeremy Carl.

Daines’ contribution?

They’re both from Bozeman.

They both admire Ronald Reagan.

That’s it.

No outrage. No correction. No “this is unacceptable.” No “Montana does not stand for this.” Nothing.

Silence.

Carl, President Donald Trump’s nominee for Assistant Secretary of State for the United Nations and International Organizations, used his hearing before the United States Senate Foreign Relations Committee to defend rhetoric that would make decent people recoil.

He said January 6 rioters were treated worse than Black Americans during Jim Crow.

Let that sit.

During Jim Crow, at least 4,467 human beings were lynched. 3,265 of them African American. Lynched. No trial. No due process. Tortured. Murdered. Bodies burned. Families terrorized.

And Carl compared the prosecution of rioters who stormed the U.S. Capitol to that.

That isn’t edgy. It isn’t provocative. It’s grotesque.

He has claimed Jews “love to play the victim.” He has flirted with “great replacement theory,” the same toxic conspiracy that has fueled white supremacist violence from Charleston to Buffalo. He has suggested “white culture” is under siege. He has minimized the Holocaust.

This isn’t a policy debate. It’s bile.

And what did Montana’s senior senator do when faced with this spectacle?

He smiled politely and mentioned Bozeman.

Here’s the moral issue. It’s simple. When someone traffics in racism and antisemitism, you say so. Out loud. Immediately. Especially when you are the one who invited them to speak.

Silence is not neutrality. Silence is shelter.

Daines and Carl share a hometown. That matters. When someone from your community stands accused — repeatedly, publicly, credibly — of spreading hateful ideology, you don’t hide behind procedural courtesy. You don’t pretend it’s just politics. You don’t nod and hope it blows over.

You speak.

Montana deserves that.

This is not about party. Republicans on that very committee expressed concern. Democrats were “dumbfounded.” Senator after senator read Carl’s own words back to him. The words weren’t invented. They weren’t “out of context.” They were his.

And Daines said nothing.

Why?

Because crossing Trump is hard. Because courage has a political cost. Because it’s easier to nod along than to stand up.

But public office is not supposed to be easy. It is supposed to require backbone.

There is a reason history judges harshly those who “went along.” Germany in the 1930s did not descend into madness overnight. It slid there, lubricated by polite silence. By people who thought, “This is distasteful, but not my fight.” By leaders who feared losing power more than losing their souls.

No one is saying we are there. But the pattern is recognizable. Normalize the rhetoric. Shrug at the slurs. Downplay the conspiracy theories. Pretend it’s just strong language.

Until it isn’t.

Daines had a moment. A clean, simple moment.

He could have said: “I disagree with Mr. Carl’s comments about Jews. They are wrong. I reject any suggestion that white Americans are the most oppressed group in this country. And I categorically condemn the comparison of January 6 rioters to victims of Jim Crow.”

That’s not radical. That’s baseline decency.

Instead, we got small talk about Bozeman.

Montana is better than that.

We are a state of neighbors. Of churches and synagogues. Of veterans and ranchers and teachers. We teach our kids that if you see a bully, you don’t laugh along. You don’t stare at your shoes. You say, “Knock it off.”

Some will say Daines was being polite.

No.

He introduced Carl. That is an endorsement. That is a signal. It says: This person represents my state. This person is worthy of this platform.

With that introduction comes responsibility.

If you invite someone to your table and they start spewing poison.

You push back.

What makes this especially shameful is proximity. Daines isn’t some distant senator making a procedural gesture. He knows this man. Knows the town. Knows the people who now have to watch their hometown linked to antisemitic tropes and racial grievance politics.

And he chose silence.

Maybe he hopes no one notices. Maybe he assumes Montanans don’t read the transcripts. Maybe he believes party loyalty outranks moral clarity.

He’s wrong.

Leadership is not measured by how loudly you praise your allies. It is measured by how firmly you confront their worst impulses.

Daines had a chance to draw a line. To say: “Not this. Not in my name. Not from my state.”

He didn’t.

And that failure — that quiet, careful, politically convenient failure — stains more than a hearing transcript.

It stains him.