Butler: The Untold Story of the Near Assassination of Donald Trump and the Fight for America's Heartland

by Salena Zito

Yet, at this moment, he did those two things at the same time, actions that he had never done before, and they saved his life. Had he not decided to use that chart to underscore his remarks about how illegal crossings at the southern US border had dipped during his presidency, and had he not turned away from his supporters to glance at the chart, one of the shots fired at 6:11 p.m. likely would have hit the base of his skull and killed him.

Talk to most people in Butler, young or old, blue-collar or well-to-do, and you will discover that they have a sense of connection with one another, with the land, and with a way of life that has remained constant for generations. For decades, my family has come here to camp and fish. The people who live here work hard, play hard, and want their children’s lives to be better than theirs, though they still want them to live close enough to come over for family dinners on Sundays.

Why in God’s name was he going to Butler? My reaction was different. Very different. To me, the decision was brilliant, largely because of what I noted earlier: the importance of a sense of place. I often write about “place” in politics because place matters. However, most Democrats and Republicans who make their living in Washington, DC, rarely get that. If they did, their candidates would win more often. What is “place”? Rootedness.

Reporters often write about the contrast between coastal elites and the country’s “fly-over” areas, but the difference is more complicated. The dichotomy isn’t necessarily rural versus urban, or low-density versus high-density areas of America, as Tom Maraffa, professor emeritus of geography at Youngstown State University, once told me. The difference is more between the “placed” and “placeless.” In short, people who are rooted in their places versus people who are essentially nomads, like reporters and politicos who flock to Washington and New York not just to make a living but also to form policy or political messages. These professionals—placeless people who share no affinity for rootedness to their hometowns—are often highly critical of fly-over folks and develop an affinity for ideology and abstractions as opposed to neighborhoods and cities.

People in small towns, rural areas, and affluent areas of Butler have been tied to their places for generations. This is why issues such as climate change and globalization are fundamentally viewed differently, including among the college-educated in Butler. The placeless think of global policies, abstract efficiencies, and lofty ideas like social justice. The placed think of how things will affect their neighborhood, town, or city. Maraffa told me, “People who voted for Trump share a rootedness in place. Think of people in J. D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy or the TV series Justified, which was tied by the phrase ‘We dug coal together,’ an expression of place.”

Because those who value place are skeptical toward certain policies, they’re often accused of ignorance, racism, and denialism—all lazy tropes that reporters or Democrats use because they would never dream of thinking about how the policies they champion affect their places.