Maxine Waters’ Fiery Rhetoric: Incitement or Free Speech? The Case for Censure and Removal from Congress

By Elena Vasquez, Political Correspondent

Washington, D.C. – November 6, 2025 – In the polarized arena of American politics, few moments capture the raw tension between free expression and democratic civility quite like Rep. Maxine Waters’ 2018 call to “push back” on Trump administration officials. Seven years later, as the nation grapples with escalating partisan vitriol—from January 6 to recent assassination attempts on political figures—the question lingers: Should Waters, now in her 15th term representing California’s 43rd District, face removal from Congress for rhetoric that critics branded as a veiled endorsement of violence against Republicans?

The incident unfolded on June 23, 2018, outside the Los Angeles Federal Courthouse, amid protests over the Trump administration’s family separation policy at the U.S.-Mexico border. Waters, a veteran Democrat and fierce critic of then-President Donald Trump, took the podium to rally the crowd. “If you see anybody from that Cabinet in a restaurant, in a department store, at a gasoline station, you get out and you create a crowd,” she declared. “And you push back on them. And you tell them they’re not welcome anymore, anywhere.”

The words ignited a firestorm. House Republicans, led by then-Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy, swiftly moved to censure Waters, accusing her of inciting harassment and potential violence. The resolution, introduced by Rep. Tom MacArthur (R-N.J.), described her remarks as “an encouragement of violent attacks” that crossed “the line from political advocacy to incitement.” It failed along party lines in the Democrat-controlled House, with Speaker Nancy Pelosi dismissing it as a “hypocritical distraction” from the administration’s policies.

Democrats countered that Waters’ speech was a legitimate exercise of First Amendment rights, akin to historical protests against injustice. “This is not about violence,” Pelosi said at the time. “This is about standing up for our values.” Civil liberties advocates, including the ACLU, echoed this, arguing that her words, while provocative, fell short of the legal threshold for incitement under Brandenburg v. Ohio (1969), which requires intent to provoke imminent lawless action.

Yet, as we reflect in 2025, the context has shifted dramatically. The U.S. Capitol riot on January 6, 2021, where Trump’s own rhetoric was scrutinized for its role in mobilizing a mob, has recalibrated the national conversation on political speech. Scholars like Georgetown University’s Danielle Allen warn that “rhetoric that dehumanizes opponents erodes the social fabric,” potentially paving the way for real-world harm. In Waters’ case, her comments preceded a wave of doxxing and harassment against Trump officials—Sarah Huckabee Sanders was famously asked to leave a Virginia restaurant days later—raising questions about unintended consequences.

Proponents of Waters’ removal argue that her longevity in Congress, bolstered by gerrymandered districts and strong union support, shields her from accountability. At 87, the “Auntie Maxine” of progressive politics has built a legacy as a trailblazer: the first Black woman to chair the House Financial Services Committee, a key voice in the 2008 financial crisis probes, and a relentless advocate for affordable housing in South Los Angeles. But critics, including the Republican National Committee, contend that such stature demands higher standards. “If we censure members for lesser offenses, like wearing a MAGA hat in the wrong hallway, why not for calls to mob the opposition?” asked Heritage Foundation analyst Jessica Anderson in a recent op-ed.

The constitutional mechanics of removal are straightforward yet daunting. Article I, Section 5 of the U.S. Constitution grants each chamber the power to “punish its Members for disorderly Behavior, and, with the Concurrence of two thirds, expel a Member.” Expulsion has been rare—only 20 senators and 15 representatives since 1789, mostly for treason or corruption, like the Civil War-era Copperheads or Michael Myers in the 1980 Abscam scandal. Censure, a milder rebuke, has been invoked 25 times, most recently against Rep. Paul Gosar (R-Ariz.) in 2021 for sharing a violent anime video targeting Democrats.

Applying this to Waters requires threading a needle. Her speech, delivered at a public rally, was protected political hyperbole, courts have ruled in similar cases. In 2023, a federal judge dismissed a lawsuit against Waters filed by a Trump-era official, citing insufficient evidence of direct causation. Nonetheless, ethicists like those at the Congressional Research Service note a growing bipartisan consensus that “incendiary language” warrants scrutiny, especially post-January 6. A 2024 Pew Research poll found 62% of Americans believe politicians should face consequences for rhetoric that “could lead to violence,” up from 48% in 2018.

On the flip side, calls for Waters’ ouster smack of selective outrage. Republicans have their own history of bellicose talk: Trump’s “fight like hell” exhortation before the Capitol breach, or Sen. Josh Hawley’s fist-pump to Proud Boys supporters. In 2022, Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) faced no expulsion despite promoting QAnon conspiracies that demonized Democrats as pedophiles. Hypocrisy cuts both ways—Democrats excoriated Greene but defended Waters—fueling accusations of a double standard that poisons discourse.

Waters herself remains unapologetic. In a 2025 interview with MSNBC, she reframed her remarks as “nonviolent resistance,” drawing parallels to the civil rights sit-ins of the 1960s. “We were telling people to protest peacefully, to make their voices heard,” she said. “The real violence was ripping children from their parents’ arms.” Her reelection in November 2024, with 78% of the vote in a district that leans 73% Democratic, underscores her entrenched support. Voters in Inglewood and Watts see her as a bulwark against GOP overreach, not a provocateur.

So, should she be removed? The answer hinges on one’s view of Congress as a deliberative body versus a populist arena. Expulsion would set a perilous precedent, potentially weaponized against any outspoken member in a hyper-partisan era. It risks chilling dissent, the lifeblood of democracy. Censure, however, offers a calibrated response: a formal reprimand that signals zero tolerance for rhetoric teetering on the edge, without silencing a voice that has amplified marginalized communities for decades.

As the 119th Congress convenes amid fresh threats—FBI reports show a 30% spike in political violence since 2020—leaders on both sides must confront this. House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-La.) has vowed to revive ethics reforms, including a “speech code of conduct.” If Waters’ words crossed a line, let Congress draw it clearly, not with expulsion’s sledgehammer, but with accountability’s scalpel. In the end, true removal lies with voters, not votes on the floor. Until then, the republic endures—not because of our saints, but despite our firebrands.