From the Jallianwala Bagh massacre to countless acts of political violence and terrorism, both here and abroad, we see a disturbing pattern. Have we truly made progress, or are we doomed to repeat the same mistakes, driven by hatred and fear?
By Reenita Malhotra Hora
The assassination attempt on former President Donald Trump is a jarring reminder that political violence is never far from our doorstep. As someone who grew up in India, where the assassinations of Mahatma Gandhi and Prime Ministers Indira and Rajiv Gandhi were not just historical events but integral parts of our generational trauma, the recent attack at the Republican campaign rally brought back haunting memories.
A stark reminder of the fragile nature of peace and the ever-present threat of violence. As an immigrant, I have to ask a fundamental question — why do people leave their homelands to come to America? Education and economic opportunities aside, we flee from violence, war, hunger, and extreme poverty. But also from domestic terrorism, or so we think. Because the American Dream promises a better life — not just economically but also in terms of safety, and socio-political stability.
So, when I emigrated to the United States some thirty-five years ago, I believed I had left that part of my past behind. But recent events have me questioning that belief. The attack on Trump takes me back 105 years to the Jallianwala Bagh massacre on April 13, 1919. On that day, British Colonel Reginald Dyer ordered his troops to fire on a large crowd of unarmed Indians in Amritsar, Punjab, gathered for a political meeting—much like the crowds gathered in Butler County, Pennsylvania, for Trump’s campaign rally.
Dyer's actions resulted in the deaths of hundreds and the wounding of many more. This massacre was a turning point in the Indian independence movement, galvanizing resistance against colonial rule and leaving a permanent scar on Indo-British relations. It was the catalyst for Mahatma Gandhi's unwavering commitment to Indian nationalism and independence. Yet, as I reflect on the attack at the Republican rally, I am struck by how little we seem to have learned in the past century. The violence and fear that drove so many to seek refuge in America are resurfacing on our own soil, repeatedly.
From the Jallianwala Bagh massacre to countless acts of political violence and terrorism since, both here and abroad, including the assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan in 1981, and culminating in the recent attempt on Trump, we see a disturbing pattern. Have we truly made progress, or are we doomed to repeat the same mistakes, driven by hatred and fear? Because hatred and fear are exactly what drive these acts. Hatred for the target of the assassination and fear that the target has the power to change the country's direction, threatening the assassin’s way of life and ideals. Whether it’s Thomas Matthew Crook’s attempt on a single Donald Trump or General Dyer’s mass killing at Jallianwala Bagh, both aimed to spread fear and assert control through violence.
Former President Donald Trump was attacked at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania last month. (Photo courtesy: X@VivekGRamaswamy)
Political violence is a universal scourge, a disease without borders—both acts are terrorism, plain and simple. What drives society to revisit the sound of bullets, the sight of people fleeing in terror? Why do we refuse to confine these scenes to history books? They occurred 105 years ago at Jallianwala Bagh and resurfaced last week at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania. Different contexts but with the same devastating impact.
One of the most disheartening aspects of these acts of terror is how they expose the deep-seated tensions and divisions within society. The Jallianwala Bagh massacre was driven by the colonial regime's 'divide-and-rule' philosophy, which saw any unity among Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs as a threat to the British Empire. In the attempt on Donald Trump's life, we see the extreme polarization and toxic political climate defining modern American politics. Both instances reveal a broader malaise — a failure to recognize and respect our shared humanity.
But can violence ever provide the answers sought? History is often said to be written by the victors, but General Dyer and the colonial government in India were far from victorious. The pro-freedom activists they sought to suppress with Dyer’s heinous act were martyred, their sacrifices fueling India’s independence movement. And who emerged victorious last month? Not Crook, who lost his own life in the process. Not the bystander who died or the two who were injured. Not Trump — this is hardly something he can proudly claim. And certainly not a divided America — what in this incident can help heal the rift in our polarized nation?
The recent attempt on Donald Trump's life is a stark reminder that the past is never truly behind us. It lives on in our collective memory, in the stories we tell, and in the lessons we either embrace or ignore. The echoes of Jallianwala Bagh reverberate in the gunshots of today. The question is, are we willing to listen, confront the uncomfortable truths they reveal, and commit to a path of non-violence and mutual respect? Leaders like Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr championed these principles, yet ironically both themselves fell to assassins’ bullets — one on Indian soil, the other right here in America.
One would hope that, as a global society, we have evolved — becoming more civilized, more compassionate, more dedicated to resolving our differences through dialogue rather than violence. But the evidence suggests otherwise. Have we learned anything in the last 100 years, or are we doomed to repeat the same cycles of hatred and fear?
-------------------------------
(Reenita Malhotra Hora is a California-based writer, native to Mumbai. Her historical fiction novel ‘Vermilion Harvest - Playtime at the Bagh’ published by Indignor House on July 15, 2024, is set against the backdrop of the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre of 1919. You can find out more about her and her work at: www.reenita.com)
The views expressed are not necessarily those of The South Asian Times.
