This year’s political discord is astounding. Donald Trump’s accusing opponents of lying, while encouraging supporters to “lock up” Hillary Clinton and commit violence against others, sets new lows in uncivil discourse. 

The only thing remotely close in my lifetime was the hate-filled campaigns of George Wallace in 1968 and 1972, which ended with a failed attempt on his life. 

To be sure, there was a lot of bad behavior among our founding fathers.   

Accusations against our second president, John Adams, were so vicious that the Alien and Sedition Acts were passed in 1798 to put opponents, including Benjamin Franklin’s grandson, in jail. Among other things, Benjamin Franklin Bache wrote that “the blind, bald, crippled, toothless, querulous Adams” favored nepotism and had monarchal ambitions.   

“Calumny” is the word Adams and others of that era used to describe sleazy tactics. A calumny is a false and malicious statement made to harm someone’s reputation. The word is rarely used today, but maybe it should be. It certainly sounds a lot classier than what we’ve been hearing.   

Thomas Jefferson, whom Adams blamed and who defeated Adams in 1800 to become our third president, was himself the subject of malicious reports about his relationship with his slave Sally Hemings. Jefferson had a thicker skin than Adams and refused to respond, possibly because the Hemings charges were true. 

Another culprit in Adams’ eyes was Alexander Hamilton, who, along with Adams and George Washington, was a founder of the Federalist Party. 

Despite their ideological ties, Adams and Hamilton hated each other. Adams attacked Hamilton’s birth status, calling him a bastard (which was true), and his sexual promiscuity.

While serving as the first treasury secretary, Hamilton had an extramarital affair with the wife of a man who turned out to be a blackmailer. Hamilton wrote about it in a widely read pamphlet that he hoped would protect his honor. It didn’t.

Later during the 1800 election, Hamilton published an anonymous pamphlet denouncing Adams’ policies with evidence provided by members of the president’s own cabinet.

When Adams called Hamilton out, the former treasury secretary responded with the type of language used in duels. As biographer Ron Chernow put it, “Hamilton was, implausibly, commencing an affair of honor with the president of the United States.”

Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed.

Hamilton was, of course, later killed in an 1804 duel with sitting Vice President Aaron Burr. 

Burr’s challenge was the result of a nonspecific slander in which Hamilton was said to express a “still more despicable opinion” of Burr. What Hamilton said has never been explained, although one biographer believed Hamilton accused Burr of incest with his daughter. 

Another famous dueler was Andrew Jackson, who has been described as our most bloodthirsty chief executive. 

Before becoming our seventh president in 1829, Jackson was involved in at least four duel challenges. Shots were exchanged in two instances, once harmlessly. The second time, Jackson was struck in the chest by a bullet that broke ribs and lodged near his heart. The wounded Jackson returned fire and killed his opponent.

Jackson also challenged a former governor of Tennessee to fight after the governor accused Jackson of stealing another man’s wife, which was technically true. That fight ended in an armed standoff but without bloodshed. 

In those days, duels typically were preceded by a series of written exchanges that spelled out the nature of grievances. During such exchanges the words “poltroon” and “gasconade” were frequently used. A poltroon is a spiritless coward, while gasconade is someone who boasts or blusters at length. 

Maybe it’s time for our modern poltroons and gasconades to clean up their acts before their calumnies result in something we’ll all regret.