A great deal has been made this legislative session about “decorum” in the Capitol, a catch-all phrase speaking to class, civility and respect for institutional customs and conventions – or more pointedly the lack thereof – displayed in the political area. Indeed, things had gotten so bad Colorado’s Democratic Gov. Jared Polis, felt compelled to join with his Republican counterpart, Utah’s Gov. Spencer Cox, in a National Governor’s Association campaign last year urging Americans to “disagree better.” It was, and is, a noble message, that nevertheless seems to be increasingly heeded in the breach.

Most of the etiquette and decorum offenses that marked this and other recent sessions are more along the lines of the theatrical or vulgar, ranging from sloppy interpretations of the dress code to obnoxious disruptions of the legislative workday by howling obscenities from the gallery. But the rancor took on a rather more personal and malevolent tone last weekend.

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It started with a bill, one dealing with a quite complex issue, around which there were – prepare yourself – some rather profound disagreements from several corners. In due course, an amendment was voted onto the bill which neutralized many of these concerns – much to the consternation of the bill’s sponsor who liked it just the way it was, thank you very much. The rebuffed legislator poured their frustrations into a newsletter, in which they singled out one particular organization as the demon culprit behind this unforgivable violation of nature, the Magna Carta and all Ten Commandments.

Shortly thereafter, a person who happened to represent that organization – a well-respected, well-liked, and eminently professional and capable contract lobbyist – received the following anonymous text:

“I hope someone puts cyanide in your food, and while you’re dying of cyanide poisoning ignites an explosive under your house while your house simultaneously burns down and your body is so unrecognizable that nobody can identify it”

This single mom, incidentally, was leaving a movie with her daughter, and played the message over her car’s Bluetooth. The 10-year-old girl heard everything.

Now, setting aside any factual inaccuracies in the communication that appears to have ignited this hateful – and possibly criminal – diatribe by this loathsome coward, to say nothing of the complicated policy issues undergirding the bill, this repulsive incident illuminates a wider rot corroding our political system. The gestating lack of etiquette, and corresponding spread of disrespect and vulgarity, that political dogmatism generates is distasteful; but what it can metastasize into is nothing short of chilling.

Violence catalyzed by political passion is not new. Wars have been started, and kingdoms lost, over people failing, as the governor’s would put it, to disagree better. America’s first treasury secretary was killed by the country’s third vice president. But one of the purposes of civilization is to smooth humanity’s rougher edges and allow for free discourse and peaceful co-existence in a pluralistic society in which disagreements will arise.

As society advances, the issues with which we deal in the public realm tend to become more complex and nuanced. Some (in both parties) recognize that, listen to opposing viewpoints and allow for intellectual evolution, even if it challenges dogma previously thought axiomatic. Others (in both parties) throw rhetorical temper tantrums that can escalate into something more sinister.

No one, I pray, believes the lawmaker in this episode intended any harm, much less condoned it. They are likely just as horrified and disgusted by these vile threats vomited by this classless and dim-witted guttersnipe as the rest of us. But the incident crystallizes the question of public responsibility. No one, obviously, can bear full responsibility for what others choose to do – Bernie Sanders didn’t give orders to the cretin who shot Steve Scalise. But at what point does ideological passion and rhetorical excess become incitement? We have bombed abortion clinics, businesses destroyed by rioting and looting and police officers ambushed and shot that beg for an answer. The country is grappling with that very question concerning former President Donald Trump and Jan. 6, 2021.

These big-picture questions can become very personal in an instant. Edmund Burke wrote, “Nothing is more certain than that our manners, our civilization, and all the good things which are connected with manners and with civilization have… depended for ages upon two principles and were, indeed, the result of both combined: I mean the spirit of a gentleman and the spirit of religion.” We may be too far gone for either of those spirits to guide us publicly anymore; but the antiquated virtues therein suggested – respect, chivalry, etiquette, civility – ought not be so blithely dismissed. Perhaps then discretion may take precedence over ideological passion, lest another 10-year-old girl starts her spring break hearing how someone wants her mother dead for doing her job.

Kelly Sloan is a political and public affairs consultant and a recovering journalist based in Denver.