America is sadly no stranger to political statements made with deadly firearms, successfully or otherwise. But this is the first in a generation¹, and so unsurprisingly has rattled an already rattled country. Yet this time, to me at least, the reverberations seem to have struck other worlds, including mine. I think I'm speaking in some senses to conservatives or those who lean right; but probably others too. The last few days, basically since the Trump assassination attempt, I've experienced on my own Facebook timeline, and observed on others' too, a deeper distrust and a more polarised public conversation. It's as if trenches have been dug and battlements erected and manned, where once there was, if not quite neutrality, at least a capacity to listen across difference. Disagree, yes. Profoundly so, yes. Yet still the ability to do so as peers.

No, I'm not implying that all was harmony before last weekend. Far from it. There's been a creeping toxicity in the politics of left and right, in the US most of all, over the space of at least a decade. But somehow 'something' snapped when Thomas Crooks fired the trigger at Donald Trump from a rooftop in Pennsylvania last Saturday evening. It's as if that was the moment when public trust died. At least in my observation, as well as personal engagement, that was the moment when disagreement became outright suspicion, when fierce debate became war, when opponents became enemies.

Six years ago, while America was in the middle of a Trump presidency and debating the merits of a Trump Supreme Court nominee, we were touring alpine Europe on one leg of a 2-month long service leave trip. Our tour group of about 25 was around 80% American. Everyone got on very well. It was a good group. But it wasn't until near the end of the tour that we learned how our American friends had made it so. They'd done it with a shared, instinctive, disciplined, strictly unspoken vow of silence. Political silence, that is. All of them zealously avoided any mention whatsoever of Donald Trump. Ever. For two weeks. ("Don't mention the Donald".) Such was the strength of divided feeling about the then president across US community life. Mr Trump was nothing if not a divisive figure.

Fast forward to these days beyond 13th July 2024. I cannot but wonder how my American friends or acquaintances are travelling now, with one another. I wonder if they, like me, are now longing wistfully for those days of relative innocence, when Trump was 'merely' a divisive figure. A divisive figure is someone you might be expected to have an opinion about; possibly a very strong opinion. But you can still discuss the football, the interminable weather, the merits of Taylor Swift, and where the best donuts can be had. It’s as if those days ended when Crooks shot with intent to kill. Now trust is gone. Now one is required to hold a flag. To declare oneself unequivocally for Trump, or against Trump. There's no middle ground, no debate, no worthy opinion. Just a side to be on.

If it ended there, Australians generally, and Christians generally, could at least in some sense maintain an objective distance, sending thoughts of care and concern, or praying for tolerance and wisdom as America's November election approaches.  

But alas not so. It appears to me that Crooks' appalling act, including its clear immoral intent, has shifted the goal posts for us as well. The loss of (relative) innocence and trust I've alluded to here is, I fear, infecting Australian Christians now, somewhat as it has American Christians since at least 2015. I don't mean it literally started to do this last Saturday. It's been a building trend over time. But the rawness of the political temperature triggered by the assassination attempt does seem to me to have brought about a steroidal assault on Christian community even here. In particular, it seems now to have become much harder, on Christian or other grounds, to flag critical questions about Trump’s suitability to lead a nation without drawing fire, or even making enemies, within the online Christian community. Examples I’ve come across include allegations of “witchcraft”, of wishing the shooter had been successful, of scoring political points from human tragedy (the rally attender who died), of blind political hatred. (Those, as well as the ‘usual’ labelling as ‘left’ or ‘woke’). To that might be added the spread of unevidenced anti-Biden / anti-Democrat conspiracy myths. Some Christians at least - even Australian ones - seem to be uncritically buying those too.

In other words, I’m detecting that for a growing number of Australian Christians, one’s views on Donald Trump are becoming a test of faithfulness to Jesus, or its absence. Again, that trend well predates 13th July; but yet Crooks’ bullet seems to me to have ramped it up in just days. I hesitate to call it ‘messianic’. But it’s heading worryingly in that direction. That Australia is on the other side of the planet, has a vastly different political history and constitution, and will never vote on Trump, Biden or any Republican or Democrat candidate for office, does little to dampen this alien (to Australia) ’theology’ of statehood.

Perhaps I'm jumping the gun to say such things now. And just maybe my observations, listenings and encounters are too limited to make a fair sample. On all that, time will tell. Yet I can only say that I don't recall previously either observing or experiencing such animosity among Australian Christians. A hint perhaps that Donald Trump's capacity to divide people - including (or especially?) the Christian world - around his narcissistic ambitions, is eating away at the fabric of largely respectful disagreement among us, half a planet away, even among believers. Where formerly we could accept that Christians could legitimately vote on opposite lines to our own, I'm now sensing more of the American evangelical alignment of Christian faith with (American!) political loyalties. And that troubles me. A lot. Lord have mercy.

¹ As a friend pointed out, there have been other more recent such attacks on non-presidential figures