Unfortunately, Washington once again experienced a scene we thought was relegated to history books: gunfire, chaos, and a president and members of his entourage hastily evacuated.
The incident at the Hilton Hotel in the capital, during the traditional White House Correspondents’ Dinner, left us with more than just a scare.
It reminded us that political violence continues to haunt even the most established democracies.
A 31-year-old gunman attempted to storm the event where President Donald Trump was attending, opening fire near the main ballroom before being neutralized by the Secret Service.
At least one agent was injured, although protected by his bulletproof vest, and the president was unharmed. The scene—people taking cover, protocols activated, uncertainty—is not just an isolated incident: it is a symptom.
Because what is most disturbing is not only the attack itself, but the context that makes it possible. We live in an era of polarization, where the political adversary ceases to be someone with whom one disagrees and becomes someone perceived as an enemy. This leap—psychological, emotional—is the fertile ground where violence germinates.
But at least at the time of the incident, a sense of unity in the face of adversity and collective solidarity was evident.
“In light of tonight’s events, I ask all Americans to wholeheartedly commit to resolving our differences peacefully. We have to do it, we have to resolve our differences,” President Trump said after the incident.
American history is all too familiar with political violence. The Hilton Hotel itself was the scene of the attempted assassination of Ronald Reagan in 1981. More than four decades later, the echo is unsettling: the names change, but the logic of violence as a shortcut persists. And it is not.
The path of violence solves nothing: it only deepens divisions, fuels fear, and weakens the very institutions that allow differences to be expressed without bloodshed.
The response to these kinds of events cannot be limited to reinforcing security or revising protocols, although that is necessary. It also demands something more difficult: moderating the tone, recovering the idea that those who think differently are not an existential threat, but rather part of the same democratic contract. This is not about naiveté. It is about civic survival.
Ultimately, democracy is not measured by the absence of conflict, but by how we manage it.
