R. Bruce Anderson
Political news — and anyone’s views on politics — have been completely overshadowed by the assassination attempt on former President Donald Trump.
The Republican National Convention in Milwaukee is not immune to this, even though it is scheduled to be the political event of the week. It is difficult there, or anywhere, to have a conversation about politics (or, indeed, anything else) without it coming up.
The shooting was horrific. It was a potentially deadly attack on the candidate, and an indiscriminate attack, resulting in death and injury, on members of the crowd. One man, a retired firefighter, died trying to protect his family from the gunfire. It was a deadly and brutal offense against our entire American community.
I learned about this, oddly enough, while walking through an outlet store in St. Augustine, admiring some plastic cups with flamingos printed on the side. A former student texted me when it first happened and asked if I had any knowledge or insight into what had happened.
No, of course not. Around me, others were feeling some of the same revulsion and confusion that I felt, as they too received the news. As the details became clearer, it became clear that the shooter had fired bullets vaguely toward the podium, but that some had hit the crowd. My thoughts were, “It could have been us, over there,” and “It could have been anyone.”
The people gathered in Pennsylvania were probably the typical crowd at any political rally: die-hard supporters of the candidate, undecided people who showed up to hear what he had to say, and random people who stopped by on impulse simply to see someone in the spotlight.
Here in Florida, there’s a great tradition of the political “hob-nob,” where candidates for public office gather at a dinner sponsored by their party, a local car dealership, or the city. They have a set speaking time where they can say whatever they want in support of their candidacy.
I have many entertaining, sometimes hilarious, even dark memories of these events. Give a candidate space, and it can make or break his or her political career forever—in less than five minutes.
In Alabama and Texas, it’s the political barbecue. A friend dragged me to one in Opelika, Alabama, in the late 1990s. The microphones malfunctioned, and the speakers had to shout. Supporters of each candidate competed to try to knock down their opponents, until the whole affair devolved into a good-natured cacophony.
Sweet iced tea, fried chicken, and political talk, of course, follow.
These rituals come from a time when there was no TV or radio, let alone the internet. They are also social occasions – you can almost imagine farmers in the old days, pulling their carts, family in tow, to “see the elephant”, so to speak, enjoy some food and drink and hang out with the neighbours.
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Fellow citizens. The community. Decisions to be made.
I’d like to think we’re keeping the custom healthy and alive because we need to hear from these people bluntly, bluntly, and face-to-face. Few candidates in recent memory have maintained the spirit and reality of the “rally” like Donald Trump. His rallies are a celebration, a social connection, and a festival as much as a political event.
I have been. I have taken my students. As much as I may not like most of what he says, at least I heard it from him and not from some “commentator” on Fox News or CNN.
As atrocious as last week’s shooting was, we need to be sure that what made it so shocking was not that it happened all the time, but that it was almost Never happens here. In some countries, violence and even murder are part of the standard political arsenal.
Not here.
And that should never be allowed.
R. Bruce Anderson is the Dr. Sarah D. and L. Kirk McKay, Jr. Endowed Chair in American History, Government, and Civics and Miller Distinguished Professor of Political Science at Florida Southern College. He is also a columnist for The Ledger and a political consultant and on-air commentator for WLKF Radio in Lakeland.
