By Granite State Report
The long shadow of a rifle shot
On November 22, 1963, television carried stunned Americans through Dallas as the nation’s young president was cut down in a presidential motorcade. Less than five years later, rifle fire on a Memphis balcony killed the country’s foremost moral voice, and a .22 revolver in a Los Angeles hotel pantry ended a campaign many believed could heal a fractured nation. The assassinations of President John F. Kennedy (1963), Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (April 4, 1968), and Senator Robert F. Kennedy (June 5–6, 1968) punctuated a decade of upheaval with gunfire—moments seared into civic memory.
Sixty years on, Americans again feel that queasy sensation: politics is running hot, threats are rising, and bullets are again crossing the line between rhetoric and bloodshed. To compare today’s political gun violence with the 1960s is not nostalgia; it’s an attempt to understand how democratic life gets pierced—and how to protect it.
This essay maps the rhymes between eras: the political climates that incubate violence, the tools and tactics attackers use, the role of media, how institutions respond, and what prevention might look like when civility alone feels insufficient.
I. Climate: when politics becomes personal
Then. The 1960s bristled with change—civil rights, Vietnam, generational rebellion, and a realignment of parties and power. Assassins operated within a stew of grievance and grand narratives: communism vs. freedom, racial hierarchy vs. equality. While the shooters in the famous cases varied—Lee Harvey Oswald’s tangled defection and disillusion; James Earl Ray’s racism and opportunism; Sirhan Sirhan’s fixation on RFK’s support for Israel—their acts echoed a national fever. The violence targeted symbols—the president, the movement’s leader, the heir-apparent—so as to rupture a trajectory in history.
Now. Polarization today is different in texture but similar in temperature. It’s hyper-partisan, identity-suffused, and often algorithmically amplified. The threat stream isn’t limited to iconic leaders. Members of Congress, local officials, election workers, judges, journalists, and activists all increasingly sit in the crosshairs—digitally first, sometimes physically. In 2024, the U.S. Capitol Police opened 9,474 threat-assessment cases involving members of Congress and their families, marking another steep election-year peak.
The violence has become episodic but persistent: the 2011 shooting of Rep. Gabby Giffords at a supermarket meet-and-greet; the 2017 ambush at a Congressional baseball practice that critically wounded Majority Whip Steve Scalise; the 2024 attempted assassination of Donald Trump during a rally in Butler, Pennsylvania; and, most recently, the 2025 fatal shooting of conservative activist Charlie Kirk during a campus event in Utah. Each incident sprang from grievance-fueled radicalization in a climate already superheated by conspiracism and dehumanizing language.
The rhyme: In both eras, political violence germinates in conditions where ideology fuses with personal grievance, and where public figures become avatars of existential struggle. The more politics frames opponents as traitors or threats to the nation’s survival, the more a small subset of individuals find violent “solutions” thinkable.
II. Targets and opportunities: open doors, open shots
Then. Political life was close-up. Presidents rode in open cars. Candidates wove through adoring—and accessible—crowds. RFK stopped in a crowded hotel kitchen because it was the fastest route to the press. That intimacy was democratic—and lethally exploitable.
Now. America still prides itself on access politics—town halls, rope lines, diners, baseball diamonds. That tradition is a Granite State signature: retail politics is the New Hampshire way. But access now meets a 24/7 threat environment. Modern protectees are guarded by layers of magnetometers, counter-snipers, and behavioral detection teams, yet the risk has not vanished. The 2024 Butler attack succeeded long enough to wound a former president; after-action investigations cataloged lapses in site control and counter-sniper positioning, and an independent panel demanded reforms. Even with improvements, additional security breaches in 2024–25 showed how thin the margin can be.
The rhyme: The very access that defines American campaigning remains both a democratic virtue and a security vulnerability. Then as now, a single point of failure can turn a handshake line into a kill zone.
III. Tools: from mail-order rifles to one-click arsenals
Then. A mail-order rifle purchased under lax rules helped power the most consequential political murder in modern U.S. history. In the wake of the decade’s shootings—including MLK and RFK—Congress passed the Gun Control Act of 1968, restricting mail-order sales, strengthening licensing, and barring purchases by certain prohibited categories. President Johnson complained the law was still “too little,” but it was a direct policy response to political gun murders.
Now. Prospective attackers enjoy easier, faster access to firepower—through licensed dealers, private sales in many states, and online marketplaces—along with high-capacity magazines and DIY options. The U.S. Secret Service’s National Threat Assessment Center (NTAC) has repeatedly found that firearms are the predominant weapon in targeted public-space attacks, with many assailants obtaining guns legally despite glaring risk factors.
The rhyme: In both periods, availability matters. When grievance meets ready means, the interval between ideation and action shrinks. The policy debates—then over mail-order rifles, today over universal background checks, extreme-risk protection orders, and trafficking—reflect the same core question: how frictionless should it be to arm a grievance?
IV. Media ecosystems: from three networks to infinite feeds
Then. A few gatekept media outlets shaped narratives, sometimes muffling mistruths but also amplifying conspiracy in a slower loop. The Zapruder film and nightly newscasts became common reference points; crackpot theories circulated, but lower-velocity.
Now. The information environment is leaderless and accelerated. Social platforms evert private rage into public performance; fringe theories climb into prime time; personal threats telescope from a handful of letters to torrents of DMs. The target pool widens (local clerks and school board members now draw death threats), and the audience for grievance is always-on.
The rhyme: Violent actors in both eras sought not only to kill but to message. Today’s assailants are more likely to be immersed in online countercultures and to leak intent in posts and private messages—a pattern NTAC has warned about for years and that creates both risk and opportunities for early intervention.
V. The data: a jagged line, not a straight one
Then vs. Now, in context. Overall homicide and gun homicide rates are not the same story as targeted political attacks. Gun homicide rates climbed in the 1960s and peaked around 1980 and the early 1990s before falling dramatically—then jumped in 2020 to levels unseen since the mid-1990s. That jagged trajectory matters: it tells us the present is not simply a return to the 1960s across the board, but a hybrid moment with distinct drivers.
Political violence trends. Credible trackers and investigative reporting show a sustained rise since 2016 in threats, intimidation, and episodic attacks against public figures and civic infrastructure. Capitol Police numbers have soared; high-salience cases—from the Giffords shooting to the Congressional baseball ambush, the Butler attempt on Trump, and the Kirk assassination—anchor a worrying pattern that spans ideologies.
The rhyme: The 1960s were the age of spectacular political assassinations; the 2020s feel like the age of distributed political menace—more threats, more targets, and enough lethal incidents to keep a nation jumpy.
VI. Motive structures: grievance is the constant
In case after case, investigators encounter a combustible mix: personal failure, grievance narratives, conspiratorial beliefs, and fame-seeking—all poured into easy access to firearms. NTAC’s analyses of mass attacks emphasize that most attackers exhibit observable concerning behaviors beforehand, and many communicate their intent—a phenomenon sometimes called “leakage.” That was true of numerous 2016–2020 cases and remains true now.
1960s parallels. Sirhan Sirhan’s animus toward RFK over Israel policy, James Earl Ray’s racist obsessions, and Oswald’s self-aggrandizing politics fit the grievance pattern. Today, attackers blend grievance with online subcultures and parasocial politics, but the through-line remains the personal transformation from aggrieved to avenger.
The rhyme: The human psychology of political violence hasn’t changed much. What’s changed are the accelerants (social media), the audience size (global), and the latency from anger to action (shorter).
VII. Institutional responses: hardening, then and now
Policy in the 60s. Congress responded to political assassinations with the Gun Control Act of 1968 and increased protective practices for principals. The norm of presidential openness—motorcades, handshakes—tightened.
Policy now. In the wake of Butler, multiple reviews—congressional, DHS-affiliated, and independent—cataloged failures and recommended tightening protocols for rally sites, counter-sniper overwatch, and coordination with local law enforcement. Meanwhile, the Capitol Police have expanded investigative and protective capacities as case loads surge. Yet these adaptations come with democratic trade-offs: sealed-off events, less access for the press and citizens, and a wider gulf between leaders and the public—especially acute in states like New Hampshire that pride themselves on retail democracy.
The rhyme: Major shocks (1968; 2024) precipitate policy shifts. The constant question is how to calibrate safety without hollowing out the rituals of a representative republic.
VIII. Why comparisons matter—and where they mislead
What’s truly similar:
- Polarization plus grievance. Both eras feature sharp, identity-deep political divides that moralize opponents and legitimize fantasies of “defensive” violence.
- Symbolic targets. Killing (or attempting to kill) a public figure is an attempt to rewrite the political script. It worked—tragically—in 1963 and 1968; it has not worked to the same systemic effect in the 2020s, in part because institutions and public resilience are stronger.
- Legal aftershocks. High-profile shootings trigger policy debates: mail-order rifles then; background checks, red-flag laws, and trafficking crackdowns now.
- Predictable precursors. In both eras, attackers often broadcast clues. That creates prevention opportunities via threat assessment and community reporting—still underused.
Where the analogy breaks:
- Media velocity. Today’s information ecosystem radicalizes faster and at scale. The 1960s lacked the real-time feedback loops that can turn a lone grievance into a networked crusade.
- Target diffusion. The 1960s produced a handful of epoch-defining assassinations. Today’s violence is more dispersed across office levels and roles—more attempts, more plots, more menacing—but (thankfully) fewer successful assassinations of top-tier officials.
- Baseline gun violence. Overall gun homicide rates, while elevated in 2020–2021, remain below the early-1990s peak. Political violence sits atop a broader, complex gun-violence landscape that varies by region, race, and socioeconomic factors. That complexity resists easy 1960s analogies.
IX. A New Hampshire lens: keeping retail politics alive
New Hampshire’s civic magic is proximity: voters talk to candidates in living rooms, church basements, and snow-dusted sidewalks. That intimacy is precious—and uniquely vulnerable. The lesson from both eras is not to retreat from contact, but to modernize it.
- Normalize behavioral threat assessment at every venue. The Secret Service’s research gives campaigns and campuses practical checklists: pay attention to leakage, acute stressors, and fixations; encourage bystander reporting; and have trained personnel who can act on weak signals.
- Harden the soft spots without hardening hearts. Metal detection and bag checks don’t have to feel like a fortress if staff are trained to be welcoming and transparent about why security matters. Proprietors of classic NH venues—VFW halls, diners, libraries—can coordinate with local PD to create tap-in protocols that are minimally disruptive.
- De-escalate language. Leaders, media figures, and influencers should treat violent metaphors and enemy talk as accelerants. The 1960s taught us that political martyrdom is not a myth—it’s a policy outcome. The 2020s add the insight that speech can mobilize a fringe to act.
- Invest in the boring stuff. Information-sharing between campaigns, universities, and law enforcement; standardized site diagrams; counter-sniper vantage planning for outdoor rallies; and emergency egress drills save lives. Post-Butler recommendations exist—apply them locally.
X. The moral center: courage without fatalism
One reason the 1960s haunt us is that the bullets succeeded. The murders of JFK, MLK, and RFK permanently rerouted American history. Today, would-be assassins still try to impose their will on our collective story. Sometimes they get terrifyingly close; sometimes they kill. The recent murder of Charlie Kirk during a campus event is precisely the kind of flashpoint that can push a polarized society toward retaliation. Responsible leadership cautions against that spiral and insists that justice be collective, not personal.
The charge for citizens—especially here in the Granite State—is to pair courage with common sense. Keep showing up. Keep asking the hard questions in small rooms. But accept that a free society with hundreds of millions of guns and infinite digital amplification cannot do democracy on the cheap. The 1960s paid for that lesson with lives. We honor them not by accepting political murder as cyclical fate, but by building the early-warning and hardening systems that make violence the rare exception, not the rising norm.
XI. What actually works (and doesn’t): a brief, practical appendix
Works:
- Behavioral threat assessment & management (BTAM). Multidisciplinary teams—campus, corporate, or governmental—assess individuals of concern, intervene upstream, and coordinate with law enforcement. NTAC’s research shows attackers commonly display stressors and leakage; BTAM treats those as actionable signals, not trivia.
- Event design. Sightlines, standoff distances, overwatch positions, and controlled egress routes are basic mitigations—often the difference between a thwarted attempt and a mass casualty. Post-Butler reviews emphasized these fundamentals.
- Focused firearm policy. Extreme-risk protection orders (where adopted), prompt removal of firearms in domestic-violence cases, and firm enforcement against straw purchasing and trafficking meaningfully reduce access for the highest-risk individuals—without requiring a grand national settlement on guns.
Doesn’t work (alone):
- “Be nice.” Civility is good politics. It is not a security plan. The 1960s were full of pleas for national unity. They did not stop bullets.
- Magical thinking about data. Overall homicide rates can fall while targeted political violence rises. Measuring the right thing matters.
- All-or-nothing policy maximalism. In the 1960s, sweeping reforms stalled even after three historic assassinations; Johnson settled for an imperfect bill. Today’s incremental wins in high-yield areas can still save lives.
XII. Closing the loop with history
The 1960s taught America how quickly progress can be devoured by a gun. Today’s United States is older, better surveilled, and in some ways more resilient—but also more wired for rage. The similarities between eras aren’t an invitation to despair. They’re a call to specificity: understand the pathways to political violence, cut them off early, and protect the precious, messy intimacy of American self-government.
If we do, the next generation will remember these years not for who was shot, but for how a free people chose to stay in the same room together—safely, stubbornly, and face-to-face.
Sources
- John F. Kennedy Library, “November 22, 1963: Death of the President.”
- Stanford King Institute, “Assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.”
- Britannica, “Robert F. Kennedy | Biography, Facts, & Assassination.”
- U.S. Capitol Police, “USCP Threat Assessment Cases for 2024.”
- U.S. Secret Service NTAC, Mass Attacks in Public Spaces: 2016–2020.
- CDC (via Pew Research), “Gun Homicide Rate Down 49% Since 1993 Peak” and CDC Firearm Homicide Trends.
- Independent Review Panel on the July 13, 2024 Attempted Assassination of Donald J. Trump (DHS site) and Senate HSGAC final report excerpts.
- AP/Reuters coverage of the 2025 shooting of Charlie Kirk and political-violence trends.
- ATF & Johnson’s signing remarks on the Gun Control Act of 1968.
- Case references: 2011 Tucson shooting; 2017 Congressional baseball shooting.
Editor’s note: This analysis focuses on targeted political violence. Broader firearm trends (homicide, suicide, accidents) are referenced for context, not conflated with political attacks.
