What happened in America at the weekend – a man shot dead, two more people injured and a former president almost assassinated live on television at a political rally – was shocking and disturbing indeed.
As the 24-hour news machine dissected every single detail of the horrific incident, showing graphics of where the bullet would have hit Donald Trump’s brain if he had not turned his head at that precise moment, showing pictures of the bullet whizzing past his head, I felt a pity for the man that surprised even me.
I have never had any admiration for the former president, but I know that near-death experiences change a person, even if you are Donald Trump. And I could see the process unfold.
I wrote a book a few years back about trauma, featuring journalists and media workers who had close shaves with death in various different scenarios around the world. I have done a lot of work with media workers worldwide who were left traumatised by incidents in which they themselves could have easily been killed. They all spoke about how the ‘what ifs’ haunted them for years afterwards, and how it’s almost like the veil between life and death was lifted in those moments, that they were able to see beyond it, and the world they knew changed. Their perspective changed, their beliefs altered, the way they saw the world and other human beings changed.
It is not the same scenario at all, but five years ago a gunman fired up a street at us in Creggan and I ran for cover as bullets whizzed by my head. A young woman was killed by one of those bullets.
In the dark and silence of the nights since the ‘what ifs’ have haunted me. What if I had moved another way, would I still be here? Would I have gone home to my kids that night, or ever seen them again? There but for the grace of God go I.
I saw Donald Trump on the stage that day after the shooting, his fist raised in the air in defiance, and I saw a man in shock and operating on autopilot. I heard an interview with him the day after in which he, no doubt after intense and forensic personal mulling over in the aftermath said: “The most incredible thing was that I happened to not only turn my head but to turn at the exact right time and in just the right amount.” And in the same interview, dipping his foot into ‘what-if’ territory with: “I’m supposed to be dead, I’m not supposed to be here.”
I saw him walk into the Republican convention two days later, humbled, emotional, still in shock, the wind gone from his sails, and a haunted look on his face that looked very familiar to me. I felt pity because he will have to process this immense and profound life-changing moment and that journey is generally not pretty.
It doesn’t matter if you’re the President of the United States or a person standing on a dark Creggan street, meeting your own mortality, thinking you might not have made it home to your family, shakes you to your very core and changes you as a person. I suspect that a lot of people at that rally will feel that very same way as details of how close they came to those bullets emerge and the stark reality of what happens when one connects is played out in heartbreaking, graphic detail in front of them that day and the aftermath at the funeral of the poor man that died. I don’t expect anyone who hasn’t had an experience like that to understand.
People who live through near-death experiences change. It’s inevitable. Generally, there is a new sense of purpose or mission, an increased compassion and love for others, lessened concern for material gain and a focus instead on spiritual gain, and a greater appreciation of life. It’s a normal and natural human reaction. People feel they have been given a second chance at life and don’t want to waste a second.
Perhaps the experience, as awful as it was, will change the Donald Trump we know. He told a reporter that he ripped up the speech he was to give at the Republican Convention - which was fiery and blustery in tone - and replaced it with one calling for unity, vowing to “bring the country together”.
There is something called Post Traumatic Growth, a personal growth after a life crisis or traumatic event that helps people find a new sense of strength and a new focus on helping others. Adversity can unintentionally yield changes in understanding oneself, others, and the world.
I wish Donald Trump only the best in his own journey.
