One Inch. Likely Less.
On the mortality of Trump and Biden.
(Last week was a humorous look at Biden and Trump [ Wishing Newsom v. DeSantis into Existence (substack.com) ] but this piece is a serious, solemn consideration of the men as they confront their mortality.)
One inch. Likely less. That’s how close America came to the assassination of a former President and current Presidential candidate.
Why it happened and how it wasn’t prevented will be debated endlessly. We may never know the truth. Even if we did, no fact, footage, or testimony will ever change that math of one inch, likely less.
It’s now more difficult to assess how important an event is. Minor moments masquerade as monumental, going viral for no apparent reason. Larger moments are treated like gladiators, immediately thrust into the arena and compelled to fight to prove their worth, their right to continue existing. Gaslighting, false flags, misinformation, cheap fakes: these are just some of the spears launched at ideas and events in order to kill them before they can take hold in our collective consciousness.
How do we know when we are watching a truly seismic incident? People will tell you where they were when the Twin Towers were hit, when the Challenger exploded, when JFK was killed. Will we remember what we were doing when Trump was shot? Will this still dominate headlines a week from now, a month from now? How do you predict the news cycle of one inch, likely less?
We live in an age where communication is regressing. Memes and acronyms are the hieroglyphics in our virtual caves. Sometimes all we get is an image.
Sometimes, that’s all we need.
Geoffrey: Ah you chivalric fool, as if the way one fell down mattered.
Richard: When the fall is all there is, it matters.
The Lion in Winter (1968)
A defiant Trump raising his fist into the air; “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Pundits on both sides of the aisle have marveled at the way he stopped to compose himself and project strength during such a frantic moment.
That is political. What if it was personal? Maybe his response was more instinctual than calculated. Whether you believe he’s earned it or not, Trump is arguably the most maligned person in America. The left insists that a Trump victory would mean the end of democracy. There’s been relentless ridicule and a constant barrage of lawfare. Despite all of that, Trump stood on that stage in Butler, Pennsylvania as the clear frontrunner in the race.
Then he was shot. Almost killed by an inch, likely less. His pursuit of his own personal redemption nearly extinguished in that moment. Maybe that’s what “fight” was about. A raised fist, his raised fist, raging against the dying of the light: of his life, and of his legacy.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
(Dylan Thomas)
He’s not alone. President Biden is also under siege, though the attacks he’s faced have been rhetorical, friendly fire. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Biden resisted calls from members of his own party to step aside after the debate in June. Biden differs from Trump in that politics is a career for him and he was focused on a residence at 1600 Pennsylvania for longer than his opponent. Biden first officially declared his ambition with a 1988 presidential run, so why would he walk away from a position that took him 33 years to achieve?
He may not have to. The events in Butler affected the fate of two men, not one. Conventional wisdom suggests it deflated any momentum to replace Biden. Just as Trump had his presidential moment with “fight,” Biden addressed the nation from the Oval Office the following night, his presidential moment before now seeking a balance between “lowering the temperature” and campaigning.
It’s easier to vilify someone when they are on the other side of you politically but even an objective observer would acknowledge that both men have skeletons in their closet. Regardless of how morally compromised they are, everyone is the hero of their own story. In Donald Trump and Joseph Biden, Americans are witnessing two men at the twilight of life: Both desperately fighting to finish their story before they run out of time. Biden wanting to complete his lifelong dream, Trump wanting a second act after his loss in 2020.
For weeks the conversation was about how long Biden had left. Even if elected, could he serve an entire second term? Trump’s mortality was largely neglected, until last Saturday in Butler when he almost didn’t even make it to election day. While a lifespan may be linear, there is no guarantee of a predictable build up to death. If Trump didn’t understand that before, he believes it now.
It was a shock to see him shuffling into the room like an ageing prizefighter, limping, beaten, but it was later when the great man squinted into the bitter glow of twilight and muttered simply, “It means nothing, all of it nothing,” that the true shock came. It was then that the boy understood that his hero's true injuries lay hidden in a darker place, his heart. His heart once capable of inspiring others so completely, could no longer inspire so much as itself. It beat now only out of habit, it beat now only because it could.
(Wonder Boys)
We don’t know (or haven’t been told) much about the assassin, Thomas Matthew Crooks. We do know that he was only 20 years old. Sixty-one years younger than Biden, fifty-eight years younger than the man he wanted to kill. How did he see those two men? In his eyes, were they ageing prizefighters, incapable and underserving of going another round to decide the match between the Democratic and Republican parties?
What hubris it requires for an individual to believe they have the right to snuff out a life, let alone feel entitled to singularly alter the course of a nation. Yet hubris is something in abundance for many 20-year-olds, who are unburdened by the doubts and mistakes that accumulate over a long life. It’s why a 16-year-old Greta Thunberg could admonish the entire world of adults for the sins she believed they committed; “How dare you!”
There’s no comparison between the actions of Crooks and Thunberg, but the underlying sentiment is consistent. Crooks believed that he and he alone was uniquely qualified to be judge and executioner for Donald Trump, that he was uniquely qualified to know what was best for America. Giving speeches or partaking in protests like Thunberg wouldn’t do. Donations weren’t enough. Crooks’ determination was clear:
One vote can't make a difference. One bullet can.
One bullet did. Even if it was off by an inch, likely less.
It will change Trump. It already has, as evident by reports that he’s rewriting his convention speech to call for unity, and by the sight of a possibly teary-eyed Trump walking into the convention last night in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Yesterday was a start contrast with Trump bathing in the warmth of an ovation from his supporters, while Biden was pressed by Lester Holt under the cold, sterile lights of an interview set. Even some on the left are quietly suggesting that the election is over, and Trump will be President again.
The truth is Presidential elections aren’t decided in the middle of July. There are two things we don’t know. The first is how nearly dying will continue to affect and change Trump. The response to that kind of traumatic event isn’t exclusively immediate or comprehensive. When the applause from the convention fades and his adrenalin slows - when he finds himself alone in a quiet, ordinary moment - what might he feel then?
The second is what events may happen in the coming months that could again redirect the trajectory of the election. After all, there’s a reason we have the phrase “October Surprise.”
What we do know is that both campaigns will continue on. Both men will endure, because both know that their next great moment could be their last. Biden and Trump are well acquainted with their mortality, the former through a slow, steady accumulation of questions about his mental state, the latter by the suddenness of an assassination attempt. If you could lay their lives along the edge a ruler, Joseph R. Biden and Donald J. Trump would be able to measure how much is left.
An inch. Likely less.
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