A Dispatch from Sea

Former President Donald Trump survived an assassination attempt at a rally on Saturday night. Corey Comperatore, a father of two, was killed; two more attendees were critically injured. The shooter was killed by a Secret Service sniper.

Maybe Saturday will go down as the day everything changed, or something changed; maybe it won’t.  It’s difficult to say all that much while we’re still in the moment—or maybe it’s too easy to say quite a bit, and we should all take a collective breath.  

Grand conclusions will be made and maybe should be made, but not by me—at least not yet.  For today, as I write this on a cruise ship somewhere off the Atlantic coast of Florida, a few brief thoughts will suffice.

That Photo

Evan Vucci / AP

Going into the bottom of the ninth inning of Game 1 of the 1988 World Series, the visiting Oakland Athletics led the home Los Angeles Dodgers 4-3.  Dennis Eckersley, the best closer in baseball, was on the mound.  He retired the first two batters on a popout and a strikeout, then walked the next on five pitches.  The tying run was on base, the winning run at the plate.  Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda sent up Kirk Gibson to pinch-hit.

Kirk Gibson was a good player and a heck of an all-around athlete—a couple of years ago, he was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame in recognition of his accomplishments as a wideout at Michigan State.  1988 was his first year with the Dodgers—he hit 25 home runs, stole 31 bases, and won the National League’s Most Valuable Player Award.

But he was also injured (hence the pinch-hitting).  He had a pulled left hamstring and a badly swollen right knee he’d hurt on a pair of awkward slides in the previous series—he couldn’t push off, he couldn’t land.  He limped to the plate looking for all the world like a 48-year-old mustachioed police chief in need of or recovering from a double knee replacement.

In clear, significant pain, he fouled off four of the at bat’s first seven pitches.  On the eighth, he hit perhaps the least probable, most iconic home run in the history of baseball—the Dodgers won, 5-4.  I can’t watch the at bat without getting emotional.  

Now imagine watching that live in 1988 as a devoted fan of the Oakland Athletics. 

Here’s my point: Trump nailed it.  That doesn’t mean you have to like him—it didn’t make me like him.  But man alive.  His reaction to the shooting was absolutely, completely perfect—so perfect people wondered if it had been staged until it became eminently clear it was not—and Evan Vucci, suddenly the most famous photographer in the country, stuck the landing.  If all you saw was that photo and you knew nothing else about Trump or the state of American politics, you’d think he’d get about 94% of the vote.  He’s definitely not getting 94% and he might not get 47%, but holy cow.  I begrudgingly, but sincerely and with great feeling, tip my cap.

A Narrative Based on a Single Data Point is Awfully Flimsy—What If the Data Point Changes?

There is little more appealing in the wake of a massive, earth-shaking event than making sense of it; than creating patterns to explain what this event means, how it fits.

Many Republicans have spent the 36 hours since the shooting blaming incendiary Democratic rhetoric for inspiring the shooter.  It’s tough to fault them—if the roles were reversed and Biden was the one that had been shot, we’d be treated to a media barrage on the evils of Republican political speech.

But, without excusing the rhetoric, I think we should all be a little slower to judgment.

We don’t yet know a motive.  The last guy to successfully shoot a president was trying to impress Jodie Foster.  When 12-year-old Jodie Foster was cast in the movie Taxi Driver, I don’t think she took a breath to contemplate the possible risks to Ronald Reagan, who was then in the process of losing to Gerald Ford—Gerald Ford—in the 1976 Republican primaries.  

If over-the-top political rhetoric and violent video games were as impactful as they’re sometimes said to be, we’d have to change over the entire government every six months.  It would be a miracle if any candidates made it to Election Day.  Think about it: think about how many Democrats have heard someone, whether a journalist, friend, or random person on social media, compare Trump to Hitler—who was, as you might recall, literal Hitler—like, HITLER—and then gone about their respective days and not done anything about it.  About Hitler!  “I sure hope this Hitler fellow doesn’t win the free and fair election.”  Think about how many Republicans chanted “lock her up!” about Hillary and then didn’t—Hillary remains free—or “stop the steal!” and then didn’t stop anything.  Think about the trucks driving around with decals of Biden in chains as Biden remains not in chains.  Yes, we know what happened on January 6th, whether you characterize it as a riot that got a bit out of hand, an actual insurrection, or the world’s worst-ever attempted coup.  But still—the vast, vast majority of the over 330 million people in the United States have come through the cancerous soup of our political discourse polluted, perhaps lowered, but apparently not all that violent.  I don’t know if that’s because most of us secretly doubt that Trump is Hitler, or that Biden is actually trying to destroy the country, but regardless, we don’t represent physical threats to our political opponents.

Imagine this: after a few days of Republicans blaming Democrats for the attack, the FBI locates the shooter’s secret diary—he was somehow also trying to impress Jodie Foster.  Democrats are off the hook for everything they’ve said about Trump (and Jodie Foster is finally on the hook—over forty years later, we’ve got a pattern).  Then, Biden, speaking at a rally in Michigan, is hit in the knee with a boomerang, suffering grievous injury.  For three days, the press goes wall to wall about how Republican rhetoric led to this moment, this oddly Australian attack.  Finally, the import of nine years of Trump becomes clear.  Then, on the fourth day, an anonymous tipster sends a video to the New York Times—the boomeranger was a heavily disguised Hugh Jackman, later revealed to be acting on George Clooney’s orders.

I would also note that, even if it turns out the shooter was radicalized by MSNBC, Republicans should be knocking on wood throughout the whole victory lap.  There are over 330 million people in this country.  Some percentage of them are a bit crazy, and some percentage of those somewhat crazy people are Republican.  How confident are you that none of them are contemplating their own chance at infamy?  There isn’t something magic about being Republican that makes it impossible for you to commit political violence; heck, up until Saturday, Democrats could have—and many probably would have—made the same claim.  

Making the Moment Stick

There have been calls from all corners for a lowering of the temperature, for remembering that our political opponents are fellow Americans—what divides us is more a separation of methods or strategies than a separation of goals.  There have been and will be high-minded speeches calling Saturday a dark day in American history, and many calls from elected officials for thoughts and prayers.

I wonder how long it lasts.  Does Congress continue as it has, largely ineffective—maddeningly so—in the eyes of the American public, but now a bit more polite?  Or does this actually portend a shift in the wind, a productive blurring of stark black and white lines?  

This newsletter is inspired in large part by years of conversations with a particular person very close to me with whom I do not agree politically.  I don’t think our basic political views have shifted much at all over the hours and hours of exploring the gray—our votes certainly haven’t. 

But we understand each other. We understand our respective positions, or are seeking to understand more and more deeply. And here’s the kicker—it’s funny how often and how quickly we end up in agreement on a practical solution to a problem (unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—we have no line to Congress as of yet).

There’s a lot I don’t know, and I can’t claim to understand everything I do know, but I will say this (enjoy a very corny line): choirs are for singing in, not preaching to. If you only talk to people you agree with, stop being boring and find people to your left and your right. Ask a whole lot of questions—sincere ones—and then ask a whole lot more.

That’s the whole point of Never Close the Inquiry: “where black and white thinking goes to die.” Don’t stop asking questions. Don’t stop wondering. Reject black and white thinking. Let’s say you think your political opponents are terrible: fine. Maybe they are! But, before you announce that to the world, go ask them what makes them so terrible (your call on how you want to frame the question). More often than not, you’ll find they aren’t so terrible after all (and, if they are, perhaps your sincere interest will be a catalyst to make them less terrible).

More to come.

Random Fact

Yesterday, a few family members and I went to Gatorland in Orlando, Florida.  There were, as advertised, many, many alligators, but they also had capybaras (sadly for the gators and happily for the capybaras, they were kept in separate enclosures).

As you might note, capybaras, native to South America, look like a cross between a guinea pig and a, well, pig pig.  They’re huge!  Adult capybaras can be between 3.5 and 4.5 feet long and weigh between 77 and 146 pounds.  A wild female capybara in Brazil weighed in at 201 pounds.

Anyway, capybaras are great (jaguars and caimans agree).

Random Recommendation

Next time you’re in Orlando, go to Gatorland.

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