Did Trump Never Happen To Hear "Live By The Sword, Die By The Sword

I'm No Fan Of Trump's, But I Do Believe In A Fair Trial First

Part of the definition of progressivism is aborhhence of political violence— just like part of the definition of fascism is the embrace of political violence. But I wonder how much hypocrisy— if any— went into the explicit expressions of sorrow from the left after Señor T seemed to be threatened by a deranged gunman again. Would you have weeped had one of them shot him between the eyes? Don’t answer that; it’s just a thought. In any case, instead of tamping down the violent mood on the right, Trump sought to throw gasoline on the fire by blaming Biden’s and Kamala’s rhetoric for the possible assassination attempt this week. Patrick Svitek and Mariana Alfaro reported that Trump ran to Fox and lied, as though he has some inside information, that the gunman— who voted for him in 2016 and backed Vivek Ramaswamy this year— “believed the rhetoric of Biden and Harris, and he acted on it. Their rhetoric is causing me to be shot at, when I am the one who is going to save the country, and they are the ones that are destroying the country— both from the inside and out.” 

First of all, Trump wasn’t shot at. The only shots fired were from a Secret Service agent who saw the gunman. Second, Trump has no way of knowing what the gunman thought or acted on. These are just tactics for Trump to pump up the volume. In fact Trump has spent his whole career in politics calling for violence against his opponents.

In an analysis yesterday, Peter Baker, wrote that bomb threats and attempted assassinations— Trump at the fulcrum of both— “now have become part of the landscape, shocking and horrific, yet not so much that they have forced any real national reckoning... Even as he complained that the Democrats had made him a target by calling him a threat to democracy, [Trump] repeated his own assertion that ‘these are people that want to destroy our country’ and called them ‘the enemy from within’— certainly language no less provocative than that used about him.”

American history has been marked by periods of political violence before. Four sitting presidents have been killed in office, and another was shot and seriously wounded. A former president likewise was shot and survived, and plenty of others who lived in the White House have been targets. But two attempts on the life of a former president within two months still stands out, especially in the heat of an election in which he is a leading candidate for his old job.

…At the heart of today’s eruption of political violence is Trump, a figure who seems to inspire people to make threats or take actions both for him and against him. He has long favored the language of violence in his political discourse, encouraging supporters to beat up hecklers, threatening to shoot looters and undocumented migrants, mocking a near-fatal attack on the husband of the Democratic House speaker and suggesting that a general he deemed disloyal be executed.

While Trump insists his fiery speech to supporters on Jan. 6, 2021, was not responsible for the subsequent ransacking of the Capitol, he resisted pleas from advisers and his own daughter that day to do more to stop the assault. He even suggested that the mob might be right to want to hang his vice president and has since embraced the attackers as patriots whom he may pardon if elected again.

Trump does not pause to reflect on the impact of his own words. Just last week, his false pet-eating accusations against Haitian migrants during his debate with Harris were quickly followed by bomb threats that turned life upside-down in Springfield, Ohio, and he did nothing to discourage them. After 33 bomb threats, Ohio’s governor said Monday that law enforcement would conduct daily sweeps of schools in the town.

Asked by a reporter if he denounced the bomb threats, he demurred. “I don’t know what happened with the bomb threats,” he said. “I know that it’s been taken over by illegal migrants, and that’s a terrible thing that happened.”

Trump’s critics have at times employed the language of violence as well, though not as extensively and repeatedly at the highest levels. The former president’s allies distributed a video compilation online of various Trump opponents saying they would like to punch him in the face or the like. Some of the more extreme voices on social media in the past day have mocked or minimized the close call at the Florida golf course. Trump’s allies often decry what they call Trump Derangement Syndrome, the notion that his critics despise him so much they have lost their minds.

Anger, of course, has long been the animating force of Trump’s time in politics— both the anger he stirs among supporters against his rivals and the anger that he generates among opponents who come to loathe him. Predictions that he might rethink that after he narrowly escaped death in Butler proved ephemeral. By halfway through his acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention five days later, he was back to himself.

But it is a measure of how much political violence has become a part of modern American culture— not accepted, perhaps, but more and more expected— that the latest incident may make no more difference than the first. The shock from the shooting in Butler wore off relatively quickly as attention turned to other developments. The shock from this one may not last any longer.

Trump’s reckless, irresponsible, even vicious, rhetoric is symptomatic of a broader decay in the political culture, where violence is increasingly seen as a legitimate tool for resolving political conflicts. His constant incitements, whether it's calling for the death of his opponents or turning a blind eye to threats made by his supporters, are part of a long, dangerous tradition that undermines democratic principles.

It’s essential to recognize that political violence doesn’t just harm individuals; it destabilizes the very foundations of both democracy and of our society. Every time a bomb threat, assassination attempt or violent mob action takes place, the message sent is that the political process— the debate, negotiation and compromise that democracy relies on— no longer matters. Instead, force and fear take precedence.

For Trump, this is not a bug but a feature. His strategy has always been to cultivate chaos, framing himself as the only one capable of restoring order. Yet it’s an order built on intimidation and division, not justice or equality. His entire political identity is based on undermining trust in institutions— be they the courts, the media or the electoral system itself. We can’t simply mourn or condemn the violence without also holding accountable the system and culture that allows someone like Trump to thrive.

This isn’t just about Trump, however. The right has for years fostered an environment where violence— whether through armed militias, threats against elected officials or efforts to terrorize marginalized communities— is normalized and even valorized. The GOP, in its acquiescence to Trump and his base, has embraced this violent ethos rather than rejecting it. This November, the choice won’t just be between Trump or Kamala, Republicans or Democrats. It’s between two visions of society: one where political differences are settled through debate, voting and collective action, or one where power is seized and maintained through fear and force.