They confirm something we already suspect. They involve people or groups we may already distrust. They are disturbing enough that sharing them can feel less like spreading a rumor and more like warning others about something they need to know.
Those are exactly the stories that deserve our greatest caution.
The more damaging an accusation, the more certain we should be before repeating it.
That is partly about being well-informed. But it is also about something more.
When an accusation can damage actual people, being careful with the truth becomes an obligation we owe one another.
What happened in Springfield
In 2024, Springfield, Ohio, was experiencing significant change.
Thousands of Haitian immigrants had settled in the area over several years. They were legally present in the United States, many through humanitarian parole or Temporary Protected Status, and local officials described them working in manufacturing, warehouses, service industries, and professional jobs. [1]
The rapid population growth also created genuine challenges involving housing, schools, health care, and other local services. [1]
Those challenges were real. Residents were entitled to discuss them. Local officials needed to respond to them. Americans could reasonably disagree about the immigration policies that helped produce them.
But real problems do not make every alarming story about the people involved true. A community can be under genuine strain and still become the setting for a false accusation.
Then another story began circulating.
Haitian immigrants in Springfield, it was said, were stealing and eating people’s pets.
Local officials said they had no credible evidence supporting the allegation. Related claims about immigrants harming pets or local wildlife also could not be substantiated. [1][2]
Nevertheless, the pet allegation moved quickly from social media into national politics. JD Vance promoted versions of the claim, and Donald Trump repeated it during the September 10 presidential debate, telling a national audience that immigrants in Springfield were eating residents’ dogs and cats. [2][3]
By the time Trump repeated the allegation, however, Springfield officials had already said there was no credible evidence supporting it. PolitiFact had published a fact-check on September 9, the day before the debate, reporting that Springfield officials and police had no evidence supporting the claim. [3] During the debate itself, moderator David Muir told Trump that Springfield’s city manager had said there were no credible reports supporting it. [4]
That matters.
Repeating a damaging allegation after contrary evidence is already available is different from carelessly passing along an unverified rumor. At that point, the available evidence itself becomes part of the civic test.
When facts cut against a story that serves our political argument, do we revise the story—or repeat it anyway?
The existence of one real problem did not make an unrelated accusation true.
Switch the jerseys
In The Hardest Time to Hold a Principle, I suggested a simple test for political consistency: switch the jerseys.
Imagine that the accusation had involved a group you feel some sympathy toward.
Suppose a prominent politician began circulating an alarming but unsupported story about a group that many people already viewed with suspicion—evangelical Christians, Muslims, rural conservatives, immigrants, police officers, protesters, gun owners, or some other identifiable community. Local authorities said they could find no evidence that the story was true. The politician continued repeating it anyway because it reinforced a larger political argument.
Would you consider that responsible?
Now switch the jerseys again.
The question is not whether these groups are identical or whether their political circumstances are the same. They aren’t.
The question is whether our standard for evidence changes depending upon who will be harmed by the accusation and which political side benefits from it.
If a story needs strong evidence when it damages people we like, it needs strong evidence when it damages people we distrust.
Perhaps it needs even more care when the people involved have relatively little ability to answer the accusation themselves.
We are allowed to say that something is wrong
There is a danger in trying so hard to be fair that fairness becomes passivity.
Separating our judgment of a person’s actions from our judgment of the entire person does not mean refusing to judge the actions themselves.
Being cautious about judging a whole person should not make us cautious about judging specific conduct.
In Springfield, an inflammatory accusation about an identifiable immigrant community was repeated before a national audience despite the absence of credible evidence supporting it and despite contrary information already being publicly available.
That was wrong.
We do not need to know everything about the people who promoted the claim to say so. We do not need to know their private motives or make a final judgment about their character.
We need only ask whether the conduct met a standard we would apply consistently.
If we believe people should not spread damaging accusations without adequate evidence, that standard has to apply even when the accusation helps our side—or hurts the other one.
That is what holding a principle means when holding it becomes inconvenient.
There were people inside the argument
There is another reason the standard matters.
“Haitian immigrants in Springfield” can quickly become a political category. Categories are useful in arguments. They make it easier to discuss immigration numbers, government programs, employment, housing, and public policy.
But categories can also hide people.
The people being discussed were residents of a community. They went to work, raised children, shopped for groceries, attended churches, and tried to build lives.
As the story spread nationally, Springfield experienced bomb threats and other threats against schools, public buildings, and members of the community. Haitian residents described fear and disruption. [5][6]
It would be irresponsible to attribute every threat directly to the words of any particular political figure without evidence establishing that connection.
But it would be equally strange to discuss the episode as though an inflammatory national accusation against an identifiable and relatively vulnerable community carried no potential human consequences.
The people inside our political arguments remain people even when they have become useful symbols in someone else’s argument.
That should affect how careful we are with what we say about them.
Immigration can still be debated
None of this requires agreement about immigration policy.
Someone can believe that the United States admits too many immigrants.
Someone can favor substantially tighter border enforcement.
Someone can question Temporary Protected Status, humanitarian parole, or other immigration programs.
Someone living in Springfield can reasonably believe that too many newcomers arrived too quickly for the community’s housing, schools, and services to absorb comfortably.
Those questions deserve argument, evidence, and democratic debate.
But disagreement about immigration cannot establish whether someone’s neighbor ate a cat.
We should be capable of keeping the two questions separate.
In fact, doing so makes the immigration debate better. Real problems do not become easier to solve when they are mixed with claims that cannot be supported.
Three questions before we pass it along
Most of us will never make a claim during a presidential debate. But we face smaller versions of the same choice all the time.
A story appears on Facebook. Someone forwards a video. A friend tells us something astonishing about “those people.” The story fits beautifully with what we already believe.
Before passing it along, we can ask:
What do I actually know?
Not what have I heard. Not what seems plausible. What evidence do I actually have?
Would this evidence satisfy me if the accusation were aimed at people I sympathize with?
Switch the jerseys.
And then one more question:
If I’m wrong, who gets hurt?
The greater the potential harm of an accusation, the greater our responsibility to make sure we have earned the right to believe it.
America is perfectly capable of having a difficult, vigorous argument about immigration.
We can disagree about borders, numbers, laws, costs, and obligations. Those disagreements will not disappear, nor should they.
We do not need false stories about our neighbors to make those arguments.
We are capable of better.
And one small way we get there is by refusing to pass along a damaging story until we have earned the right to believe it.
Sources and Further Reading
[1] City of Springfield, Ohio — Immigration FAQs.
The city’s own overview of the Haitian population, legal status, employment, local strains, and claims involving pets and wildlife.
[2] Reuters — “No evidence of Haitian immigrants stealing and eating pets in Ohio.”
A fact-check tracing the allegation and reporting Springfield officials’ statements that there was no credible evidence supporting it.
[3] PolitiFact — “Authorities rebut claims that Haitian immigrants are eating cats, waterfowl in Ohio town,” September 9, 2024.
Published before the presidential debate and based in part on statements from Springfield officials and police.
[4] ABC News — Harris-Trump presidential debate, September 10, 2024.
The debate record, including Trump’s statement and moderator David Muir’s response citing Springfield’s city manager.
[5] Reuters — “Bomb threat in city at heart of Trump immigrant rumors sparks evacuation,” September 12, 2024.
Reporting on the threat to Springfield City Hall and fear within the Haitian community.
[6] Associated Press — Reporting on threats and intimidation in Springfield.
Later reporting documenting threats, harassment, and the broader disruption experienced by the community.
