Historically, the closest parallel to what happened last night is probably the assassination attempt of Theodore Roosevelt in 1912.
Like Donald Trump — who was shot in the ear at a campaign rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, on Saturday — Roosevelt was a former president when he survived a gunman’s fire. Also like Trump, Roosevelt at the time was running to reclaim the White House, in the midst of a campaign speech in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Finally, and most importantly, the attempts on both men’s lives will likely be best remembered for their defiance in the face of a would-be assassin.
In his case, Roosevelt continued delivering his speech, even as a bullet was lodged in his chest. “It takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose,” he famously declared, going on to speak for another 50 minutes before seeking medical attention. Secret Service protocols would not allow such a display today; still, the attack on Trump will forever be defined by this instantly iconic image, of Trump’s face streaked with blood, his fist raised in the air, the American flag waving behind him.
It has been 44 years since a federal elected official (Allard Lowenstein, a New York congressman) was successfully assassinated in the United States, a streak that often masks the fact that political violence has been steadily increasing over the last decade.
This is not the 1960s — when a president, a presidential candidate, and several civil rights leaders were killed in a five-year period — but more from a lack of successes than a lack of trying. It has not been an era, thank God, of murdered politicians, but it has been one of dangerously close shaves.
On January 6, 2021, rioters came within 40 feet of then-Vice President Mike Pence, as Trump supporters chanted for his hanging and searched for then-House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA), among others. Less than two years later, Pelosi’s husband sustained an attack by hammer; if a police dispatcher had not understood his coded messaging, he may have ended up with worse than just a skull fracture.
In 2017, doctors told Rep. Steve Scalise (R-LA) that he had been “within a minute of death” after being shot at a congressional baseball practice. Then-Rep. Gabby Giffords (D-AZ) also survived gunfire, but she has never fully regained the ability of speech after a 9-millimeter bullet cut through her brain in 2011.
A man made it just outside of Justice Brett Kavanaugh’s house in 2022, armed with a pistol, knife, hammer, crow bar, and zip ties, but his assassination plot was foiled when he called the police himself, his second thoughts having taken over. Someone made it even closer to then-Rep. Lee Zeldin (R-NY) one month later, climbing on stage during a gubernatorial campaign rally; thankfully, the attacker was armed only with a keychain.
Quantifiably, according to a University of Maryland database, political violence since 2016 has been at its highest levels in the U.S. since the 1970s. Before 2016, the U.S. Capitol Police had never opened more than 1,000 threat investigations in a single year; last year, more than 8,000 threats against members of Congress were investigated. Similarly, “investigated threats against federal judges have risen every year since 2018,” according to the U.S. Marshals Service, while election officials are also facing an unprecedented level of menace.
The threats were all able to be foiled, but several — like the bullet that whizzed just inches away from Trump on Saturday — came horrifyingly close to fruition. And oftentimes, even as the politicians live, others become collateral damage of our toxic politics. Yesterday, at least one American was killed simply for attending a political rally of their preferred presidential candidate.
From here, things will likely get worse, not better.
The suspected gunman, Thomas Matthew Crooks, who was killed on site, was around my age. We know nothing of his motives, but, by his youth, we know that he grew up in a political climate marked by vitriol, and by these near-assassinations. At age 20, he would have been just 12 during the 2016 election, which means any awareness he had of elected politics would have come at a time of steep divisiveness.
Perhaps it is no surprise, then, that Crooks’ cohort — and mine — is the generation most likely to say in polls that political violence is appropriate. In March, an NPR/PBS/Marist poll asked respondents whether they agree with the statement, “Americans may have to resort to violence in order to get the country back on track.”
19% of all Americans said they either “agreed” or “strongly agreed” with the statement — but, alarmingly, 42% of 18- to-29-year-olds said so. They were, by far, the age group that expressed the most support for the sentiment of violence, almost doubling the support signaled by the next closest cohort. “Strong” agreement was expressed by 14% of the 18- to-29-years; on that score, no other age group even came close to cracking double digits.
When Roosevelt was shot in 1912 — also a close shave (he was saved only by the glasses case and 50-page speech in his coat pocket) — he quickly turned to blame the rhetoric of his opponents.
“Now, friends, of course, I do not know, as I say, anything about [the gunman]; but it is a very natural thing that weak and vicious minds should be inflamed to acts of violence by the kind of awful mendacity and abuse that have been heaped upon me for the last three months by the papers in the interest of not only Mr. Debs but of Mr. Wilson and Mr. Taft,” Roosevelt referring to his Socialist, Democratic, and Republican rivals. (TR was running as the Progressive Party, or “Bull Moose,” candidate.)
Trump’s closest allies have made a similar argument, charging that President Joe Biden’s frequent assertion that the ex-president is a threat to democracy — and his comment to donors last week, that “it’s time to put Trump in a bullseye” — was the cause of last night’s violence.
“Today is not just some isolated incident,” Sen. J.D. Vance (R-OH), a leading contender to be Trump’s running mate, posted on X. “The central premise of the Biden campaign is that President Donald Trump is an authoritarian fascist who must be stopped at all costs. That rhetoric led directly to President Trump’s attempted assassination.”
Other Republican officials have gone even further. “Joe Biden sent the orders,” Rep. Mike Collins (R-GA) wrote, completely without evidence.
Next, however, Roosevelt did something that I have yet to see any contemporary politician do: take this moment of national tragedy to encourage his own faction to lower their overheated rhetoric. Even at a time when he have seen both Democratic and Republican politicians repeatedly targeted by violence — spurred on by competing declarations of the doom that would accompany the other side’s ascension — I haven’t seen any politicians practice much of any introspection.
Rarely do Democratic or Republican officials stop to acknowledge that their own side might have a role to play in our divisive politics. Instead, when horrors like last night’s unfold, each side reliably finds a way to blame the other party, which only serves to exacerbate further the cycle of hatred and violence that brought us to this point. Even in their responses to tragedy, more toxicity flows loose.
Consider Roosevelt’s response: “Friends, I will disown and repudiate any man of my party who attacks with such foul slander and abuse any opponent of any other party.”
“I do not care a rap about being shot; not a rap,” he added. “What I care for is my country. I wish I were able to impress upon my people — our people — the duty to feel strongly but to speak the truth of their opponents.”
Politicians of any stripe looking for something to say this morning could do worse than emulating Roosevelt’s model.
What we know so far
One rally attendee was killed in last night’s shooting; two more are in critical condition. Trump posted on Truth Social that a bullet “pierced the upper part of my right ear.” He was treated at a local hospital and released later that night.
The suspected gunman, a 20-year-old Pennsylvania man named Thomas Matthew Crooks, was killed by a Secret Service sniper shortly after firing. The gun was an AR-style rifle legally purchased by Crooks’ father. Explosive devices were found in his car after the shooting.
Many questions still remain about how Crooks was able to get so close to Trump during a rally. Eyewitnesses have said they watched Crooks climb onto a roof just outside the security perimeter, and told police — for three to four minutes, no less — that they saw someone with a rifle. The House Oversight Committee has already invited Secret Service Director Kimberly Cheatle to testify at a hearing next week to answer whether security failures are to blame.
The Republican National Convention will continue next week in Milwaukee, as planned. The Biden campaign has paused its advertising amid this surreal twist to the campaign.