What History Suggests About the Political Fallout From the Trump Assassination Attempt

The assassination attempt against Republican Presidential nominee and former President Donald Trump at a rally in Butler, Pa., on Saturday stunned Americans. While elected officials uniformly expressed shock and horror at the shooting, which led to the death of one man in the crowd as well as other critical injuries, many Democrats quietly worried that sympathy for Trump and revulsion at the attack would boost him electorally come November.

However — while Trump may win — history, especially the weeks preceding World War I, suggests that it is unlikely to be the result of a “sympathy bump” or calls for unity. While Americans may briefly come together to “turn down the temperature,” as some political leaders, including President Biden, are urging, it is even more likely that competing interests will soon reassert themselves, overshadowing efforts to calm the roiling waters.

On June 28, 1914, the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand — heir to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian Empire — and his wife, in Sarajevo, shocked the world. The assassin, 19-year-old Gavrilo Princip, was a young Bosnian nationalist and a member of the Black Hand, an anti-Austrian terrorist organization supporting Slav unity.

At the time, tensions were high in Central Europe. The leaders of Serbia, a small kingdom on the Balkan peninsula, were interested in unifying the Slavs of southern Europe into a Greater Serbia, or a nation of South Slavs (Yugoslavs). However, many ethnic Slavs remained under the control of Austria-Hungary, including those in Bosnia. Uniting Serbians risked shattering the multi-ethnic Austro-Hungarian empire — which its leaders were already struggling to hold together. The political atmosphere in Europe was further inflamed by conflicts between individual European countries, including Germany and France, England and Germany, and Russia and Austria.

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The system of alliances that had emerged in Europe in the late 19th century made the situation even more fraught. Germany and Austria-Hungary had been allied since 1879. Meanwhile, France had defensive agreements with Russia and Great Britain. This system of alliances created the prospect of a domino effect in the case of any regional military conflict. In addition, as fellow Slavs, Russia enjoyed a special relationship with Serbia, prompting them to offer support against Austrian encroachment.

Initially, the assassination of Ferdinand temporarily threw all pre-existing political loyalties into question. Because of the near universal horror over the assassination — except in Serbia, where newspapers cheered the death of the heir to the Hapsburg throne — Austrian leaders believed that they had the opportunity to crush Serbia and its threat to their territorial integrity once and for all. Their military ally, Germany, supported them unconditionally, urging Austria to retaliate forcefully, extending a “blank check” to deal with Serbia. Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany was certain that the Russian Tsar, his cousin, “would not in this case place himself on the side of the regicides.” German political leaders were further convinced that through this act of political violence, the Serbians had so strongly alienated European public opinion that no one was likely to intervene on their behalf. 

Had Austria-Hungary’s leaders acted quickly, this prediction might’ve proved right, and the ensuing conflict between the empire and Serbia might have remained a local one. Indeed, their German ally urged quick action, before international outrage died down and before Russia, if it did choose to support Serbia, would be able to mobilize. 

But the leaders of Austria-Hungary failed to listen. They took almost a month to make very harsh demands of Serbia, ordering them, among other actions, to suppress all anti-Austrian publications and organizations, to remove all “propaganda” against Austria-Hungary from schoolbooks and public documents, and to fire specified civilian and military personnel. The demands also included bringing all “accessories” in the assassination to trial and allowing Austro-Hungarian law enforcement officers into Serbia to take part in the criminal investigation. Only Serbia’s unconditional acceptance within 48 hours would be enough to avert a war. 

Yet, while Austria-Hungary was slowly formulating these demands, animus around Europe toward Serbia had cooled and longstanding political interests and alliances once again took priority. In addition, the harshness of the demands convinced Russia that the Austrians were using the assassination as a pretext to do something that they had wanted to do for a long time: destroy Serbia and its perceived threat to their empire. 

Austria-Hungary’s rejection of Serbia’s carefully conciliatory response to its draconian ultimatum reinforced this perception. While Serbia rebuffed the presence of Austro-Hungarian law enforcement officers in their country as impinging on their sovereignty, they responded diplomatically to the other terms. But instead of negotiating, the Austro-Hungarian Foreign Office claimed that the Serb response created a “false impression” of acquiescence. The Russians and others, including France, disagreed and saw Austria-Hungary’s posture as a cynical stance adopted to provoke war with Serbia at all costs. 

This fundamental divergence meant that none of the major powers on either side — the Austrians, Hungarians, Germans, Russians, and French — dialed back their rhetoric nor their demands in the weeks leading up to war. Instead, they insisted that their opponents were at fault as things spiraled. The result was a world war that lasted four years and led to the loss of tens of millions of lives.

The situation is different in the modern U.S. Yet, as in Europe in 1914, tensions are high as Americans move toward an election against the backdrop of extreme political polarization and violent rhetoric. In the aftermath of the assassination attempt against Trump, now-Republican vice presidential nominee J.D. Vance alleged that President Biden’s claim that Trump “is an authoritarian fascist who must be stopped at all costs . . . directly led to President Trump’s attempted assassination.” Vance made this assertion despite the fact that there was no evidence at the time — and still isn’t — that the shooter, a registered Republican, had a political motive. Democrats swiftly clapped back with examples of incendiary language from the former President and his supporters, as well as the violent attempted coup that Trump supporters incited on Jan. 6, 2021.

While the conflict in the U.S. is between political parties, whereas the battle lines in pre-World War I Europe were between countries and alliances, the situation that provoked World War I suggests that any sympathy bump for Trump will be short lived, if it registers at all. Democrats remain convinced that they must prosecute the case against a GOP Presidential candidate they consider a threat to democracy, while Republicans continue to insist that Democrats are the problem. History shows that despite brief moments of sympathy and unity after political violence, when the roots of conflict are deep, the sides have every incentive to retreat to their corners quickly.

Christine Adams, a former American Council for Learned Societies and Andrew W. Mellon Foundation fellow at the Newberry Library, is professor of history at St. Mary’s College of Maryland and author of The Creation of the French Royal Mistress with Tracy Adams.

Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Learn more about Made by History at TIME here. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME editors.