After Donald Trump was almost killed by a sniper, he didn't hide behind his Secret Service protectors. He struggled to his feet, looked directly at the photographers who were frantically trying to record the moment, and shook his fist in the air.
The result was a visual image so memorable that the Washington Post described it as "a powerful photograph that could change America forever."
"He was shot yet had the presence of mind to quickly gather himself enough to know to tell his supporters he was OK and ... show defiance in the face of danger," Republican strategist Mike DuHaime told Politico. "That's instinct. His harshest critics are often blind to his undeniable political skill. He figured out the moment before anyone else could."
Those critics insist that Trump poses a deeply dangerous threat to American democracy, but even his foes must admit that his political talents are "undeniable." Indeed, he's more of a threat precisely because his instincts are so sharp.
Trump has only one guiding principle: self-interest. Every action is measured by how it impacts his stature and reputation. That restless, relentless drive to be the star, the winner, the center of attention, was on full display after that would-be assassin's bullet whizzed past his ear.
Erik P. Bucy, an expert on visual messaging at Texas Tech, told Vox that the pictures of Trump after the shooting "(communicate) resiliency in the face of crisis, and a certain kind of instinctual strength, but also an instinct about performance and maximizing the moment from a media point of view."
"He's bloodied. He's got to be in an initial phase of shock. And yet he still realizes, 'Wait, there's a media opportunity here, and that above all else has to be kind of leveraged before I even get off the stage,'" explains Bucy. "That shows you how he's oriented and why he's remained in front of our screen for the past nine years."
Trump has always believed that how he looks is more important than what he says, going back to his days as a TV personality. "He's an entertainer," Republican strategist Rick Wilson said to Politico. "He always knows where the camera is looking."
Trump's rallies, with a red-hatted conductor orchestrating a symphony of adulation, convey energy and enthusiasm. After leaving the hospital following a bout with COVID-19, Trump mounted the White House stairs and ripped off his mask, causing an NPR reporter to say, "It was like he knew this was going to be something that was captured by cameras, could be part of history."
Then there is the mug shot of a glowering and resolute Trump, taken after his booking on criminal charges in Georgia. The portrait shows up on hats, T-shirts and pitches for campaign cash.
The assassination attempt produced mainly still photos, but Trump's command of visual communication might be even more practiced on television. James Poniewozik, the TV critic of The New York Times, writes of Trump, "Everything he achieved, he achieved by using TV as a magnifying glass, to make himself appear bigger than he was."
"He was able to do this because he thought like a TV camera," explains Poniewozik. "He knew what TV wanted, what stimulated its nerve endings. In his campaign rallies, he would tell the Washington Post, he knew just what to say 'to keep the red light on': that is, the light on a TV camera that showed that it was running, that you mattered."
The images Trump generated after the shooting are useful to him politically because they amplify a storyline that he's been spinning out for years, a narrative of strength, defiance and grievance. "See, I told you," he can say to his followers, "they're all out to get me, and you -- the Swamp, the Deep State, the Justice Department. They even tried to kill me. But they missed."
GOP pollster Frank Luntz estimated on X that the assault on Trump could net him 1 or 2 points in the polls. But the real benefit is likely to be in turnout. "What happened in PA will definitely impact the final vote," he wrote, "guaranteeing that every Trump voter will actually vote."
Trump has always played a character, on both TV and in politics, but it's not someone else, it's an outsized, outraged version of himself. And he was playing that character in the moments after he was shot. The bloody face. The raised fist. The waving flag. The cameras caught it all. Just as Trump knew they would.
(Steven Roberts teaches politics and journalism at George Washington University. He can be contacted by email at stevecokie@gmail.com.)
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