Reflection on a Recent Assassination Attempt

In the wake of the attempted assassination of Donald Trump during the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, a familiar pattern emerged. The immediate call for a calming of rhetoric rang out swiftly.

“We need to tone it down,” “we need to do better,” “we need to lower the temperature.” These phrases seemed almost scripted, as if rehearsed beforehand.

This situation reminded me of a scene from *Blazing Saddles*, where Governor William J. Repetmane calls a meeting and demands, “We have to save this bogus business, gentlemen.” His cabinet responds in unison, echoing the absurdity without question. It’s unsettling how closely reality mirrors that moment.

The media’s response feels all too predictable. Yes, the language may be more polished and the environment more formal, but at its core, the message is the same. A narrative emerges that pushes responsibility around, ensuring no single person bears the burden.

“We need to tone it down.” But, who exactly is “we”?

This rush to proclaim a need for moderation highlights a deeper issue. The media grapples with credibility problems and hesitates to confront its ownership of the conversation.

The term “we” serves as a convenient shield. Ironically, those now criticizing this narrative have spent years crafting the very scripts we’re questioning. They’ve used charged language to characterize opponents as dire threats, labeling them with terms like “Hitler” and “fascist,” trivializing language that should invoke historical caution.

Such rhetoric has repercussions. It frames disagreements as moral crises, leading some to perceive them as clear mandates rather than mere metaphors.

Though individuals are responsible for violent actions, there is a disconnect between those who set the tone and those who later raise alarms about it.

The issue lies in how language distances us from accountability.

So, what if that distance vanished? Rather than saying, “I need to dial it back,” one might simply declare, “I will.” It shifts from, “I should be more careful,” to “I’m not being careful.” Such honesty carries weight; it places the onus back on the individual.

This lesson didn’t come from a political setting for me but from my experiences as a caregiver. Some days are chaotic, everything feels out of control, and just when you think it can’t get worse, life throws another challenge at you. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed.

Caregiving strips away pretenses, often revealing truths I would rather keep hidden.

Some days, I feel as sturdy as a statue, while others, as light as a dove. It’s not that harmful intentions are behind these feelings, but rather, in our fatigue, we sometimes make hasty judgments or seek validation at others’ expense.

That doesn’t excuse those actions. There’s no carte blanche for poor behavior.

Washington faces hypocrisy. The media struggles with trust. I’ve done it myself, albeit without the same stakes — using tone and timing to deflect blame, to justify my actions while sidestepping responsibility. This realization has a greater impact than the chorus of calls for collective improvement.

I’m not in a position to overhaul a culture that thrives on anger, pretending the consequences are a surprise. Yet, I must confront my own truth.

The collective “we” diffuses accountability, while the singular “I” brings it into focus. And only from this place of honesty can one truly seek repentance.

Instead of, “we will do better,” it needs to be, “I will do better.”

That’s where true leadership starts — not in front of cameras or podiums, but in the personal decision to own one’s actions.

Life is shaped similarly, whether in the halls of power or in a hospital. It boils down to a single voice making a decision, one sentence at a time. It’s ultimately less about “us” and more about “I”.