The Very Real Dangers of Division
After an attempt to assassinate Trump, there were moments of dignity and humanity. Can they be maintained?
Late on Saturday afternoon, a 20-year-old nursing home worker from a suburb of Pittsburgh, climbed onto the roof of a building outside the perimeter of a Trump rally in Butler, Pa.
A few minutes after Donald Trump took the stage to address his supporters, Thomas Matthew Crooks aimed his gun at the former president and shot.
In the moments that followed—as a blood-streaked Trump was rushed off stage, as panicked spectators were evacuated, as Americans everywhere stopped what they were doing to stare at TVs, and later, as the tragic news trickled in that bullets had claimed one man’s life and injured others—it became clear that the nature of America’s political landscape had changed.
It was, to borrow the words of David A. Graham in The Atlantic, the beginning of “a terrible new era of political violence in America.”
Almost immediately, fingers were pointed: It was the Democrats’ incendiary rhetoric that was to blame; it was gun laws; it was the media; it was Joe Biden.
But something else happened too: The deep and ugly attack lines between the two presidential candidates—lines marked by personal attacks and vicious jibes—seemed to be, if just for a moment, slightly less relevant.
Biden, after being briefed on what had happened, conveyed compassion and concern. “I’m grateful to hear that he’s safe and doing well. I’m praying for him and his family and for all those who were at the rally, as we await further information,” Biden said. “There’s no place for this kind of violence in America. We must unite as one nation to condemn it.”
Trump himself, relieved that the bullet had pierced only his ear, said that bringing the country together was now the spirit of the message he wanted to deliver. His wife, Melania, urged Americans to “ascend above the hate, the vitriol, and the simple-minded ideas that ignite violence.”
“We all want a world where respect is paramount, family is first, and love transcends. We can realize this world again,” she said. “Each of us must demand to get it back.”
Others across the political spectrum echoed this sentiment.
Nancy Pelosi, who has been lambasted and ridiculed by Trump in the past, and whose husband was assaulted in a politically-motivated attack in 2022, chimed in. “As one whose family has been the victim of political violence, I know firsthand that political violence of any kind has no place in our society. I thank God that former President Trump is safe,” the former House Speaker said in a statement. Former Presidents George W. Bush, Barack Obama and Bill Clinton all joined her in expressing relief that Trump was safe.
It was the most dignified display of humanity we’ve seen on this country’s political stage in months, if not years. That it took an assassination attempt on a former president to inspire it, is—in itself—a tragedy.
To be sure, not everyone adopted a civilized tone. Marjorie Taylor Greene, the far-right representative from Georgia, used the opportunity to double down on the belligerent messaging she’s known for. J.D. Vance blamed Joe Biden; two days later he was announced as Trump's vice-presidential pick. Others piled on, too. But many who are known for their violent outbursts and character assassinations held back or struck a far less inflammatory note.
So far, the Biden-Trump race has been characterized by hostility, malice and acrimonious virulence that has extended from the candidates to their supporters and yes, to the media, too. Surely, nobody is truly naive enough to believe that what happened on Saturday will change that: The political discourse is not about to become tamer. But it could—and should—serve as a reminder of the real, human danger of division, regardless of whether that division is along political lines, gender lines, religious lines or any other.
On Sunday, Terry Szuplat, who served as a presidential speechwriter in the Obama White House, wrote on LinkedIn that we all share a responsibility to end political violence. One place to start, he wrote, is rhetoric. “We can stop describing fellow Americans we disagree with as ‘enemies’ who need to be ‘destroyed’ or ‘crushed,’” he noted. “We can stop whipping up audiences to ‘fight’ and ‘take back our country’” and “we can resist absolutist language like ‘good’ versus ‘evil.’” Szuplat also urged people not to “otherize,” “dehumanize” or “demonize.”
As America enters the next, inevitably messy, chapter of this election cycle—with campaigns shaped by justifiable fear and anger, which not only pit Republicans against Democrats but also men against women, and in some places old against young—my hope is that we can maintain even a shred of the dignity that’s been on display over the last few days. A functioning democracy must be built on a foundation of respect and tolerance, regardless of how fierce political persuasions are.
When hatred overshadows decency, safety and security, nobody wins.
More from The Persistent.
How Marine Le Pen Uses Her Femininity as a Smokescreen
A (Nearly) 50-50 Gender Split in the U.K.’s New Government. It’s About Time.
