Clinton Declares “War on Empathy”—Conservatives Hit Back with “Toxic” Charge

Paul Riverbank, 1/31/2026Hillary Clinton reignites debate over empathy and faith in American politics, directly challenging MAGA voices and sparking fierce backlash. As both sides claim moral authority, the struggle over the meaning of compassion takes center stage ahead of the upcoming elections.

Clinton didn’t mince words, zeroing in on what she described as a perverse celebration of cruelty. “That compassion is weak and cruelty is strong has become an article of MAGA faith,” she wrote, her ire sharpened by the tragic death of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis—a moment, she said, that signified “force as a badge of strength” for some. Her questions were pointed if not rhetorical: who could, in good faith, dismiss the suffering in Minnesota, ignore families hiding in fear, overlook children clinging to their parents for safety, or watching shadows in a classroom doorway?

Predictably, the right wasted no time in firing back. Allie Beth Stuckey, a sharp-tongued host at BlazeTV with a knack for mixing faith with policy critique, was among the first to hit reply. Clinton, unsparing, called out people like Stuckey by name—accusing her, and similar voices, of marshaling what Clinton called a “war on empathy.” She even ridiculed the phrase “toxic empathy” from Stuckey’s book—deadpanning that it “sounds more like a contradiction than a concept,” and wondering aloud if such terminology reflected “blindness or bankruptcy—morally speaking.”

Stuckey’s answer landed with the familiar energy of the digital age: buoyed by her followers, half in jest, she tweeted that Clinton’s lengthy op-ed was proof she’d hit a nerve. “When Hillary Clinton is writing 6,000-word op-eds attacking warnings against toxic empathy, you know you’re over the target. Keep. Going.” She doubled down on her podcast, accusing Clinton of overstating her religious convictions for political effect—a charge that set off a new round of back-and-forth among listeners and online bystanders.

The heart of the argument, for those tracking this years-long culture clash, is hardly new. Clinton, staking moral ground, invoked not just empathy but the core of Christian teaching. “Jesus tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves and help those in need. ‘Do this and you will live,’ he says. Not in Donald Trump’s America.” To her, empathy was not an embellishment—it was foundational, even existential.

Her opponents found irony in that stance, no small amount of it. They recalled the “basket of deplorables” speech, dredged up Benghazi, and cited her brush with the Russia investigation. Writers at PJ Media labeled her renewed compassion cynical—“an audacious ploy,” they called it, charging that her newfound mercy served fewer principles than it did political cause.

Beneath the surface, the larger fight simmers—about who gets to define what it means to be strong or caring, and whose version of America will carry the narrative. Clinton described a stifling climate on the right, where, in her words, “any deviation from the party line” was zealously policed. Still, she urged that “speaking truth to power” is a Christian legacy, not the exclusive property of any one movement, and encouraged voters to see true empathy as vision, not frailty.

Yet her critics see “empathy” wielded as a lever—one that, in their view, pushes for undocumented migration or softens necessary legal boundaries, all while failing to account for the fallout. Stuckey, for one, has made an entire brand on the warning that “toxic empathy” isn’t fiction; it’s the slippery slope where compassion, unaided by reason or rule of law, morphs into something unmoored and dangerous.

It’s impossible to ignore how both sides reach for the language of faith—almost as if it’s the last coin in a shrinking moral economy. Clinton frames “Christian nationalism” as a threat hanging over both church and state, warning that it imperils not only traditional faith guides but the broad tapestry of democratic life in America. Her adversaries, in turn, paint her as someone who borrows spiritual language only when convenient, shielded from hard questions by appeals to compassion.

As Election Day creeps closer, these debates are unlikely to retreat from public life. If anything, the disputes over faith, empathy, law, and toughness seem less like a skirmish than a trench war, with both sides determined to lay claim to the high ground. Neither, at least for now, appears ready to cede an inch.

Hillary Clinton has a way of walking back onto the national stage that almost feels rehearsed, though the stakes always seem to hinge on something raw and unresolved. In a piece for The Atlantic, she laid down her broadside with the kind of language that leaves little room for ambiguity. “Savagery,” she called it—the thread running through what she termed the MAGA movement. The former Secretary of State insisted the country was facing an “empathy crisis,” warning that, in her view, America’s better angels are at risk of being crowded out.Clinton didn’t mince words, zeroing in on what she described as a perverse celebration of cruelty. “That compassion is weak and cruelty is strong has become an article of MAGA faith,” she wrote, her ire sharpened by the tragic death of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis—a moment, she said, that signified “force as a badge of strength” for some. Her questions were pointed if not rhetorical: who could, in good faith, dismiss the suffering in Minnesota, ignore families hiding in fear, overlook children clinging to their parents for safety, or watching shadows in a classroom doorway?Predictably, the right wasted no time in firing back. Allie Beth Stuckey, a sharp-tongued host at BlazeTV with a knack for mixing faith with policy critique, was among the first to hit reply. Clinton, unsparing, called out people like Stuckey by name—accusing her, and similar voices, of marshaling what Clinton called a “war on empathy.” She even ridiculed the phrase “toxic empathy” from Stuckey’s book—deadpanning that it “sounds more like a contradiction than a concept,” and wondering aloud if such terminology reflected “blindness or bankruptcy—morally speaking.”Stuckey’s answer landed with the familiar energy of the digital age: buoyed by her followers, half in jest, she tweeted that Clinton’s lengthy op-ed was proof she’d hit a nerve. “When Hillary Clinton is writing 6,000-word op-eds attacking warnings against toxic empathy, you know you’re over the target. Keep. Going.” She doubled down on her podcast, accusing Clinton of overstating her religious convictions for political effect—a charge that set off a new round of back-and-forth among listeners and online bystanders.The heart of the argument, for those tracking this years-long culture clash, is hardly new. Clinton, staking moral ground, invoked not just empathy but the core of Christian teaching. “Jesus tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves and help those in need. ‘Do this and you will live,’ he says. Not in Donald Trump’s America.” To her, empathy was not an embellishment—it was foundational, even existential.Her opponents found irony in that stance, no small amount of it. They recalled the “basket of deplorables” speech, dredged up Benghazi, and cited her brush with the Russia investigation. Writers at PJ Media labeled her renewed compassion cynical—“an audacious ploy,” they called it, charging that her newfound mercy served fewer principles than it did political cause.Beneath the surface, the larger fight simmers—about who gets to define what it means to be strong or caring, and whose version of America will carry the narrative. Clinton described a stifling climate on the right, where, in her words, “any deviation from the party line” was zealously policed. Still, she urged that “speaking truth to power” is a Christian legacy, not the exclusive property of any one movement, and encouraged voters to see true empathy as vision, not frailty.Yet her critics see “empathy” wielded as a lever—one that, in their view, pushes for undocumented migration or softens necessary legal boundaries, all while failing to account for the fallout. Stuckey, for one, has made an entire brand on the warning that “toxic empathy” isn’t fiction; it’s the slippery slope where compassion, unaided by reason or rule of law, morphs into something unmoored and dangerous.It’s impossible to ignore how both sides reach for the language of faith—almost as if it’s the last coin in a shrinking moral economy. Clinton frames “Christian nationalism” as a threat hanging over both church and state, warning that it imperils not only traditional faith guides but the broad tapestry of democratic life in America. Her adversaries, in turn, paint her as someone who borrows spiritual language only when convenient, shielded from hard questions by appeals to compassion.As Election Day creeps closer, these debates are unlikely to retreat from public life. If anything, the disputes over faith, empathy, law, and toughness seem less like a skirmish than a trench war, with both sides determined to lay claim to the high ground. Neither, at least for now, appears ready to cede an inch.