“Fight” and a Doomed Flight: Lessons from Poland After the Attempted Assassination of Donald Trump

Excuses, excuses.

It’s been more than six months since I sent a newsletter, and for good reason: I launched The American Sunlight Project, a new non-profit dedicated to increasing the cost of lies that undermine democracy, pressured Jim Jordan into releasing the transcript of my five hour deposition before his McCarthyist congressional committee, and made dozens of media appearances, analyzing everything from the DOJ’s release about a new, AI-enabled Russian bot network to the sexist, racist abuse aimed at Vice President Kamala Harris since the historic announcement of her presidential candidacy, to Elon Musk’s enablement of disinformation and hate speech on X.

Excuses, excuses, right? 

I have been writing—I’ve done a few quick-turn pieces in response to breaking news, like the Murthy v Missouri verdict in late June—but there have been a few pieces that never found a home during the frenetic, a-week-is-a-year news cycle we find ourselves in. I thought I’d share them with you in hopes of getting back to a once-weekly newsletter as the election heats up. 

This week’s “from the vault” piece is one I wrote after the attempted assassination on former President Trump (remember that? it was just over a month ago!). Enjoy. More soon.

“Fight” and a Doomed Flight: Lessons from Poland After the Attempted Assassination of Donald Trump

A photo of Trump pumping his fist after his attempted assassination taped around a tree, via SHYCITYNikon on Flickr (Creative Commons license).

In April 2010, the sitting Polish President, Lech Kaczyński, and nearly 100 members of the country’s political and military elite died in a plane crash near Smolensk, Russia. What was already a tragic event was made more poignant by the delegation’s mission: They had been en route to a ceremony marking the Soviet massacre of over 20,000 Polish military officers during World War II. The Polish public mourned together, flooding the square in front of the presidential palace with votives and flowers, marking the occasion with solemnity and solidarity. 

It only lasted for a few days before the conspiracy theory took hold. 

Originally, Jarosław Kaczyński, the president’s twin, who took the helm of their Law and Justice Party after his brother’s death, told an aide he did not believe baseless speculation that the crash was an assassination. But in the weeks after the crash, as an ongoing election campaign gained steam, fringe conspiracy theorists began to gather at a makeshift memorial cross erected near the presidential palace. They believed then-Prime Minister Donald Tusk and other members of the opposition had collaborated with the Russian government to bring down the president’s plane in retaliation for his staunch support of anti-Russian democratic movements in the post-Soviet region. Sensing a political opportunity, Kaczyński bought in. 

Two separate investigations concluded that the crash was a result of human error in poor weather conditions, but it still became a cornerstone of the Law and Justice platform and policy and divided the country for the better part of a decade. While conspiracies reigned, Polish democratic institutions crumbled. Psychologists found that the embrace of the crash conspiracy theory undermined societal cohesion: “People endorsing conspiratorial accounts of the Smolensk catastrophe preferred to distance themselves from conspiracy non-believers, while skeptics preferred greater distance to conspiracy believers.” The conspiracy theory also allowed Moscow an easy vector of influence in Poland: It refused to return the wreckage of the plane, further stoking the conspiracy theory and dividing Polish society for years to come.

When a gunman opened fire at a Trump campaign rally on July 13, it was mere minutes until the conspiracy theories sprouted like weeds across fractured concrete, finding the path of least resistance online as they competed for engagement. They followed predictable patterns, metastasizing across preexisting societal fissures. 

Some prominent voices on the left believed the assassination attempt was staged, echoing the many times over the years their political adversaries had claimed school shootings were “false flags.” Some right-wing leaders were quick to claim the Democrats were directly responsible. Their opponents, they said, had denied President Trump an increase in his security detail. The Secret Service was forced to issue a statement denying the allegation the following morning.

Others blamed diversity, equity, and inclusion: They noted that the Secret Service was run by a woman, and that the detail that responded to the shooting included a female officer. It was clearly her fault. Despite a total lack of evidence, some even blamed Ukraine. Perhaps, they mused, the Azov Battalion was involved. 

Not to be outdone, the Kremlin entered the fray, echoing certain Republicans and blaming the American left for “creating an atmosphere” that led to the attack. Putin spokesperson Dmitri Peskov added, “After many attempts to remove candidate Trump from the political arena […] it was obvious his life was in danger.” Foreign Ministry Spokesperson Maria Zakharova went further, claiming “the liberals brought [American democracy] to the verge of suicide.” She added a taste of civil war for good measure: “[The] dissolution of the United States does not look like such an impossible prophecy any longer.” 

Whether in Poland or the United States, amplifying homegrown divisions is a well-worn tactic in the Russian influence toolkit. The Kremlin’s sentiments were repeated by other right-wing leaders, including Argentina’s Javier Milei.

The vast majority of leaders at home and abroad have condemned the attack on former President Trump and political violence more broadly. But as in Poland’s example, it only takes a few fringe actors, buoyed by a powerful leader or two, to widen the cracks that divide us. 

The current political discourse in the United States also is subject to a dangerous accelerant to which 2010 Poland was not: Algorithmically-driven social media. Conspiracies and emotionally-charged content are a major driver of engagement and profit online. Where conspiracies thrive, so does hate. America has had abundant opportunities to reject this cycle. In the hours after the violent insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021, for example, we had a chance to reaffirm our unity, resolve, civility, and respect for the truth. At that time, as at others, partisan appeals to Americans’ basest instincts have won the day.

Condemnations of political violence – and the disinformation and conspiracies that drive them – are not enough.

Rather than denouncing political violence after an attempt on his life, Donald Trump’s immediate response was to pump his fist and order his supporters to “fight.” 

Rather than reflecting on the existence of fringe elements within their ranks, many prominent liberal voices online responded to the assassination attempt by suggesting that it was a false flag operation.

Rather than developing and implementing policies that would deescalate violent rhetoric online, social media platforms have divested from their trust and safety commitments. In some cases, their owners have amplified violent and conspiratorial content themselves.

None of these responses demonstrate a healthy environment for democracy. Unlike Poland, we did not experience days of national solidarity during which we could reset the temperature of our political discourse. We dove straight into the abyss. When Poland’s ruling party made the active decision to align itself with a conspiracy theory, it was nearly a decade before its grip on society was loosened. Only last fall, when Law and Justice lost its supermajority, did the antidemocratic actions it pursued in the throes of conspiracy begin to be dismantled. 

In the weighty days after a national tragedy, the United States had a fading opportunity to reject that path. Since then, it has become clear that the country cannot rely on politicians or social media platforms to make moral choices and disengage us from this incendiary rhetorical cycle.

It falls on the American people to do what they won’t.