Former Arizona Attorney General Mark Brnovich died of a heart attack last week at the age of 59. A husband. A father to two daughters. The son of Serbian immigrants who arrived in America with little but ambition and hope. His story was quintessentially American; the kind we once celebrated regardless of political affiliation.
From gaming regulator to Assistant Attorney General to the state’s top law enforcement officer, Brnovich’s trajectory defied the typical political playbook. He didn’t emerge from privilege or a predictable pipeline. His path was unorthodox, his rise meteoric within Arizona politics. Whether you agreed with his positions or not, his was the kind of bootstraps narrative that once united rather than divided us.
But something broke in America. We fractured along lines so deep that death itself no longer pauses our tribalism. When a public figure passes, we’ve reached a point where some feel compelled not to mourn, not even to remain silent, but to celebrate. To cheer. To post their satisfaction on social media as if a political opponent’s mortality represents victory rather than tragedy.
For instance, this was a response from a former chair of a local district Democrats group:
This isn’t about Mark Brnovich’s policies or positions. This is about what we’ve become. A nation so consumed by political identity that we’ve lost the thread of shared humanity. Where a man’s death at 59, leaving behind family who will never stop grieving, becomes another opportunity to signal tribal allegiance rather than recognize common loss.
We used to understand something fundamental: you can oppose someone’s politics while acknowledging their humanity. You can disagree vehemently with positions while recognizing that behind every political figure stands a person with family, friends, a story that began long before any office was held.
The Brnovich family doesn’t care about political talking points right now. They’re navigating the impossible geography of sudden loss. And somewhere, someone who never knew him personally felt moved to express joy at his passing because algorithms and echo chambers taught them that the other side isn’t human…just obstacles to be celebrated in removal.
We are fractured. Irreparably? That depends on whether we remember that every name in a headline was once a child with dreams, became an adult with loved ones, and deserves the dignity of being mourned rather than weaponized.
Even, no, ESPECIALLY when we disagreed with them.