We are simply wanting to remind Missouri Attorney General Catherine Hanaway that drowning kittens is illegal under Missouri law, and should she engage in drowning kittens, we intend to see that she is held responsible.
Has Catherine Hanaway engaged in animal cruelty? We’re not saying she has.
That distinction is the entire point.
The statement above is an example of a growing political communication tactic: making an accusation without technically making an accusation. It creates the impression of wrongdoing while maintaining plausible deniability. The speaker can claim they are merely stating a fact, asking a question, or “reminding” someone of the law. She, herself, engaged in this very tactic recently with her letter “reminding” a library hosting an LGBTQ event that showing pornograpy to children is illegal.
The tactic works because the human brain is wired to fill in gaps. When a group or a public figure’s name is placed next to a disturbing example — whether it is animal cruelty, corruption, abuse, or some other moral violation — many people remember the association more than the disclaimer.
The structure is familiar:
“We’re not saying this person did something wrong. We’re just saying that if they did something wrong, there should be consequences.”
The accusation exists in the audience’s imagination, even when the speaker avoids making it directly.
This strategy has become increasingly common in modern political messaging. Rather than presenting evidence that someone committed an offense, critics often create a hypothetical scenario and then criticize the person for the hypothetical. The goal is frequently not to establish facts, but to shape perception.
A recent example involves debates over whether New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani should participate in 9/11 commemorations. Critics insinuate that he has held un-American opinions that make him unsuitable for such an event, implying a lack of patriotism or respect without having to prove an actual act of disrespect.
A similar pattern appears when politicians “warn” institutions about laws that they have not actually violated. The rhetorical impact can be to suggest that the institution in question is dangerously close to committing wrongdoing, even when there is no evidence that it has done so.
The power of the tactic is that it shifts the burden of proof. Instead of asking, “What evidence shows this person or organization did something wrong?” the audience is encouraged to ask, “Why are they being defensive?”
This is not a new political phenomenon. Politicians have long used insinuation, fear appeals, and guilt by association. What has changed is the speed and reach of social media, where a provocative suggestion can travel far beyond the original context. A headline, a clipped video, or a viral post can preserve the accusation while losing the disclaimer.
The challenge for a healthy public debate is maintaining a distinction between accountability and insinuation.
If someone has committed an offense, present the evidence. If a law has been violated, explain how. If an institution has failed, show the facts.
But simply attaching a person’s name, or an entire community, to an outrageous hypothetical and insisting “we’re not saying they did it” is not accountability.
This tactic was beneath our state’s attorney general.
