20.05.2026 à 10:05
Samuel Challéat, Chercheur, Centre national de la recherche scientifique (CNRS)
Jean Secondi, maître de conférences en Ecologie, Université d’Angers
Kevin Barré, Post-doctorant en écologie appliquée, Muséum national d’histoire naturelle (MNHN)
Laurent Godet, Chercheur au CNRS, Nantes Université
Léa Mariton, Post-doctorante en sciences de la conservation & éco-acoustique, Inrae
Thierry Lengagne, chercheur CNRS, Université Claude Bernard Lyon 1
As part-night lighting (i.e., turning off streetlights in the middle of the night) becomes more widespread among local authorities, three studies focusing, respectively, on robins, toads and bats show that, often, turning off the lights for a few hours is not enough to restore natural night. In terms of biodiversity, the challenge is not just about switching off the lights, but knowing when and where to do so.
In recent years, switching off street lighting in the middle of the night has turned out to be a no-brainer for several challenges: reducing energy bills, demonstrating a commitment to energy efficiency, and limiting light pollution and its effects on ecosystems.
From a biodiversity perspective, the best solution would be to have no lighting at all.
But this option clashes with other legitimate uses of night-time spaces: our own! This leaves one question: is switching off the lights for a few hours in the middle of the night really enough to reduce the impact of light on biodiversity? Not necessarily: its effects on organisms depend on the context – location, large-scale light landscape, weather conditions – and the species concerned.
Not all species actually use night-time in the same way. The early evening, the middle of the night and the hours leading up to dawn are often associated with different behaviours: foraging, movement, returning to roost, falling asleep and waking up, communication… In this context, part-night lighting may limit certain effects of light pollution on biodiversity… or miss the mark entirely if it doesn’t coincide with species’ peak activity times.
Another important point: switching off lights locally does not necessarily mean returning to total darkness. In towns and cities, nearby lighting – streetlights on adjacent streets, shop signs, shop windows or private lighting – as well as light scattered by clouds often maintain residual brightness. And this effect is not limited to urban zones: in rural areas too, the light halo from towns and cities can remain visible for several dozen kilometres (approx. 15 miles). For the species most sensitive to light, the difference between periods when lights are on and off may, therefore, be minimal, even when public lighting is switched off locally. A local council’s switch-off schedule is therefore not sufficient, on its own, to describe the actual lighting conditions to which animals are exposed.
This is what we observe in the European robin. For this diurnal bird, part-night lighting is not sufficient, in an urban context, for restoring activity patterns comparable to those observed in unlit areas. Even when streetlights are switched off between 11:00 pm and 6:00 am, the birds tend to sing earlier in the morning and later in the evening than in truly dark areas.
To test this effect in the Nantes metropolitan area (Loire-Atlantique department) in France, we compared three types of site: unlit sites, sites lit up all night, and sites where street lighting is switched off for part of the night.
We used a simple indicator: the European robin’s song. By recording the soundscape over several days, we can reconstruct the species’ singing patterns across the entire day-night cycle and see how they vary according to light conditions.
The result is clear: sites where lighting is cut off in the middle of the night often look more like sites lit all night than unlit ones. The gap appears mainly at key moments for this species, at dawn and dusk – respectively around 40 minutes before sunrise and 20 minutes after sunset – which correspond to its peak vocal activity.
In our study, the peak in the “dawn chorus” occurs on average before sunrise, by a matter of tens of minutes. However, it is precisely at this time, in an urban landscape that is already well lit, that part-night lighting is barely distinguishable from continuous lighting.
This is no doubt due to the central roles dawn and dusk play in diurnal species: these transitions serve as reference points for synchronising daily rhythms. Many lighting systems still leave lights on in the early evening and switch them back on before dawn. In other words, lights are switched off in the middle of the night, but are kept on at the two times that matter most for synchronising activity.
For a robin, this shift can have very real consequences: singing earlier also means defending its territory earlier, interacting differently with other birds, and bringing forward essential activities such as foraging or attracting a mate.
The data alone does not allow us to conclude that there is a direct effect on reproduction or survival. However, it does show that part-night lighting does not automatically bring the situation back to normal, particularly in urban areas where darkness is often incomplete even when a street or neighbourhood is in the dark.
For the free-tail bat, a nocturnal bat endemic to Réunion, bringing forward the switch-off times by two hours is enough to mitigate the effect of the lighting at the start of the night. However, this effect persists at the end of the night, when lighting in the morning is switched on early.
We studied this species, Mormopterus francoismoutoui, in a setting that allowed us to go beyond a simple comparison between lit and unlit sites. For one month, at certain sites, the part-night lighting scheme was altered: the streetlights were switched off two hours earlier than usual. This allowed us to compare the situation before and after this change at the same sites, alongside unlit control sites. Bat activity was monitored acoustically, using recording devices to capture their echolocation calls. This is not a direct count of individuals, but an indicator of their activity.
The results show that as long as the streetlights remain on, bats are detected more frequently near the lit areas, particularly at the beginning and end of the night, i.e. during their peak activity periods. When the evening switch-off is brought forward, this effect disappears at the start of the night: the light no longer “structures” their activity as it did before. However, a difference tends to persist before dawn, which is consistent with the morning switch-on remaining unchanged. Bats therefore still seem to be attracted to lit areas during their peak of activity before dawn, particularly when the weather was favourable.
This result highlights an important point: the effectiveness of part-night lighting depends on how much it overlaps with the activity rhythms of the species present. Turning off the lights in the middle of the night may have little effect if a species concentrates its movements and foraging at the beginning or end of the night. Conversely, a seemingly modest adjustment – in this case, switching off the lights two hours earlier in the evening – may be enough to mitigate the effect of lighting for part of the night.
However, we must exercise caution when interpreting these findings. A higher presence near streetlights does not necessarily mean that light is beneficial. It may reflect an opportunity, for example, if insects are attracted to the light but it may also indicate more ambiguous effects: altered movement patterns, a concentration of individuals in certain areas, increased competition, or greater exposure to predators. In other words, these results primarily show a redistribution of activity over time and space, without allowing us to conclude that artificial lighting is, in itself, beneficial or harmful.
For the spiny toad (Bufo spinosus), a primarily nocturnal amphibian, part-night lighting mitigates certain effects of artificial light to some extent, without recreating the conditions of a truly dark night.
The spiny toad is a common species in southern and western France, frequently found near inhabited areas, including urban and suburban settings. For its very close relative, the common toad (Bufo bufo), artificial light at night is already known to affect behaviour, physiology and even gene expression in cells: over 1,000 genes malfunction when the animals are exposed to low-intensity light at night! However, in these animals, activity is often most pronounced at the start of the night, suggesting that part-night lighting can, at best, only mitigate the effects.
We tested this hypothesis experimentally on individuals from one of the areas least affected by light pollution in western France – in Mayenne and Orne. Three groups were formed: one group was kept in natural darkness, one group was exposed to low light levels throughout the night (0.5 lux) and one group was subjected to a part-night lighting scheme between 11:00 pm and 5:00 am, but with the same light intensity of 0.5 lux for the rest of the night. After at least nine days of exposure, we monitored the males’ activity via video during the night.
The distance travelled varied little between the different groups, no doubt partly due to the experimental setup. However, one finding stands out clearly: the longer the toads are exposed to light, the more time they spend in their shelter. The individuals subjected to part-night lighting occupy an intermediate position between those placed in darkness and those exposed to light all night. This is also the only group to show a resumption of activity after the lights were switched back on at 5:00 am.
For a toad, this can have very real consequences: spending more time in hiding potentially means having less time to forage for food, find a mate or move to another site. The surge in activity observed when the lights were switched on again could represent extra energy spent or a source of stress. Part-night lighting therefore reduces certain behavioural effects, but for these animals it does not seem to be equivalent to a completely unlit night.
We still do not know whether this attenuation also results in a reduction in the physiological or genetic effects of artificial light. We also need to gain a better understanding of the impact of a sudden change in light intensity, both when the lights are switched off and when they are switched back on.
It would be an oversimplification to conclude that part-night lighting is pointless. However, our findings serve as a reminder that it is primarily designed with human night-time activities in mind – when public spaces are less busy and traffic is lighter – rather than with the times when light has the greatest influence on biodiversity.
In our three studies, it is precisely the early and late hours of the night that appear to be decisive. For robins, maintaining light at dusk and dawn is sufficient for sustaining shifts in activity, even when the lights are switched off in the middle of the night. For free-tail bats, bringing forward the evening switch-off reduces the effect of light at the start of the night but not at the end of the night if the morning switch-on remains unchanged. Where toads are concerned, switching the lights back on at the end of the night revives activity at a time when it would normally be decreasing. In all three cases, the conclusion is the same: to be effective, part-night lighting must coincide with the periods when species are most sensitive to light and produce a genuinely perceptible reduction in brightness.
Finally, describing part-night lighting simply as “turning lights off” can be misleading. This method of managing street lighting also involves abrupt, artificial transitions: switching on, switching off, and switching on again, which can disrupt organisms. Turning off the lights in the middle of the night is, therefore, not just about less light: it is also another way of artificially dividing up the night.
These findings do not, of course, provide a one-size-fits-all solution. However, they suggest three key measures if we are to ensure that part-night lighting also benefits biodiversity.
Firstly, adjust lighting schedules around dusk and dawn, which are often crucial for species’ rhythms and activity. Secondly, reduce light spill from areas that remain lit – adjacent streets, shop signs, private lighting – so that switching off the lights results in a real reduction in brightness. Finally, adapt the lighting strategy to suit different locations – city centres, residential areas, the outskirts of nature areas – rather than applying the same rule everywhere.
Such planning decisions are best informed by both environmental expertise and residents’ experience, so as to identify sensitive locations and times, make decisions transparently, and then adjust the choices in light of feedback and observations.
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Samuel Challéat is coordinator of the CNRS Nocturnal Environment Observatory, director of CNRS GDR 2202 LUMEN (Light & Nocturnal Environment), and deputy director of UMR 5602 GÉODE (Geography of the Environment, CNRS, Toulouse 2 University). He has received funding from La Réunion National Park as part of the FENOIR programme, and from the CNRS Mission for Transversal and Interdisciplinary Initiatives (MITI) as part of the OUTRENOIR programme.
Jean Secondi est membre du GDR2202 LUMEN (Lumière & environnement nocturne) du CNRS
Kévin Barré est membre de l'Observatoire de l'environnement nocturne du CNRS et du GDR2202 LUMEN (Lumière & environnement nocturne) du CNRS. Il a reçu des financements du Parc national de La Réunion et de la Mission pour les initiatives transverses et interdisciplinaires (MITI) du CNRS
Laurent Godet is a member of UMR 6554 LETG, the CNRS Nocturnal Environment Observatory, and the CNRS GDR2202 LUMEN (Light & Nocturnal Environment). He has received funding from the Réunion National Park, the CNRS Mission for Transversal and Interdisciplinary Initiatives (MITI) and the Fondation de France as part of the LARN project.
Léa Mariton is a member of the CNRS Nocturnal Environment Observatory and of the CNRS GDR 2202 LUMEN (Light & Nocturnal Environment). She has received funding from La Réunion National Park and from the CNRS Mission for Transversal and Interdisciplinary Initiatives (MITI).
Thierry Lengagne est membre du GDR2202 LUMEN (Lumière & environnement nocturne) du CNRS.
19.05.2026 à 16:40
Abderrahman Hassi, Associate Professor of Management , Al Akhawayn University
Giovanna Storti, Professor and Advisor for the Employment and Social Development, Canada, Al Akhawayn University
In a global context marked by chaos and turbulence, technological advancements, health crises, marketplace alterations, shifting demographics and organizational foolishness, the demand for more adaptive and reflective forms of leadership has become a necessity. Given this context, wisdom can provide a meaningful understanding of “good” leadership to navigate such turbulence and seize the opportunities that come along with it. As such, wisdom constitutes a cornerstone of effective leadership and serves as a key driver of organizational excellence.
To put wisdom to good use in leadership, in one of our research pieces, we developed a valid “wise leadership scale”, designed to assess the extent to which leaders and managers demonstrate wisdom within organizations by gathering data in France and Morocco. In a recent research output, we validated the new wise leadership scale using data collected from Canada, China and Morocco. How do we define wise leadership?
Wise leadership is oriented toward enabling others to contribute meaningfully to the flourishing of individuals, organizations, and the wider community.
We conceptualised wise leaders as individuals who enact normatively positive behaviours through four mechanisms:
This involves the ability to recognise, comprehend, and make sound decisions in both predictable and unpredictable situations. It entails quickly detecting subtle cues and underlying dynamics, anticipating potential difficulties, and generating actionable insights, even in ambiguous and uncertain contexts.
Wise leaders grasp what needs to be done and are acutely aware of the repercussions of their decisions and actions. To establish facts and provide deductive explanations without rushing to judgement, they rely on reasoned and circumspect observation. Wise leaders also possess the intellectual abilities required to realise their envisioned future by selecting the appropriate course of action at the right moment, while carefully considering the prevailing circumstances.
A lack of intellectual shrewdness along with sound judgement and foresight among high-ranking executives and engineers resulted in Volkswagen’s Dieselgate scandal in 2015.
The latter was about setting up unauthorised software to evade nitrogen oxide emission regulations. The individuals concerned were intelligent leaders with remarkable engineering and financial abilities. Nonetheless, they exhibited poor judgement and unwise behaviour as they did not adequately assess the potential repercussions or anticipate the harmful consequences for both the company and themselves of tampering with emission tests. The scandal resulted in a colossal loss of over €33 billion in penalties and settlements for Volkswagen.
This refers to the capacity to inspire and mobilise others around a compelling vision. Wise leaders help subordinates perceive a positive future vision as both meaningful and attainable.
Spurring action involves directing followers toward actions that yield desired outcomes that followers themselves recognise and appreciate as wise. To this end, wise leaders display specific traits and behaviours that enable them to align individual and organizational goals. Wise leaders additionally, actively develop the potential of their followers, elevating them to new levels of performance and growth. On top of this, wise leaders are also able to bring people with varying interests together, even by resorting to power if necessary. Lastly, by fostering a sense of purpose, nurturing trust, building strong human connections, and creating opportunities for organizational members to work collaboratively, wise leaders entice subordinates to achieve positive work outcomes.
When Tadataka Yamada took over as chairman of R&D at Glaxo SmithKline (GSK) in December 2000, his company was one of 39 pharmaceutical companies suing the South African government for violating price protections and patent infringement for AIDS medicines over access to drug therapies for needy patients.
Given the patients’ powerless position to alter the course of the legal process, Yamada opted to be a part of the solution to global health problems, rather than a party to a lawsuit that prevented such treatments from reaching those in desperate need.
In one-on-one meetings with each GSK board member, Yamada emphasised GSK’s moral obligation to relieve human suffering and associated it with the company’s long-term performance. All 39 corporations withdrew their legal action against South Africa in April 2001. GSK’s business strategy in developing countries, stakeholder relations, and reputation were all positively impacted by this decision.
This refers to how far morals, values, and principles guide wise leaders’ day-to-day interactions with stakeholders in a consistent, truthful, and ethical manner. Wise leaders avoid excess and greed, uphold high ethical standards and prioritise virtuous outcomes. In practice, wise leaders balance their own interests with those of others, carefully evaluate the moral implications of their decisions and actions, and consistently adhere to their ethical principles. To achieve this, wise leaders rely on a strong moral compass that provides clear behavioural guidelines, ensures consistency between words and deeds, and reinforces their moral commitment. As a result, they serve as role models for their followers; their organizations function harmoniously, grounded in a noble purpose aimed at delivering benefits to the greatest number of people.
As an example, Mario Rovirosa, CEO of Ferrer – Spain’s first B corp pharmaceutical company, stresses that the brand’s slogan “Ferrer for good” says it all: it is the company’s purpose to “do good” in society and on the planet, and asserts that Ferrer harnesses its pharmaceutical activity to obtain the required resources to do good.
Rovirosa spearheaded Ferrer to become the first Spanish pharmaceutical laboratory to obtain the B Corp certification that is awarded by B Lab to firms that meet high standards of social and environmental performance, accountability, and transparency.
Ferrer takes into account the effects corporate decisions have on their employees, customers, suppliers, community, and the physical environment. Recently, the company conferred more than half of its profits to social and environmental initiatives.
Cultivating humility involves a balanced sense of self-worth that lies between the vices of deficiency and excess. Wise leaders deeply value their expertise and knowledge yet continually subject them to critical scrutiny. They are committed to lifelong learning as they strongly believe that true wisdom also stems from the vast realms of knowledge that remain unexplored. Wise leaders remain open to learning from all sources, including subordinates, and readily acknowledge that they do not know everything.
Moreover, the humility of wise leaders is evident in their willingness to openly admit mistakes and draw valuable lessons from them. Finally, wise leaders willingly adopt the perspectives of others, rather than exclusively rely on self-focused stances. In so doing, they truly guard against intellectual arrogance and ignorance.
When Anne Mulcahy took the reins of Xerox in 2001, it was recommended that she announce the company’s bankruptcy. Xerox was losing 300 million dollars each year. However, she chose not to take the “easy path”. When confronted with daunting obstacles, Mulcahy favoured dialogue over speeches and exhorted staff to share critical viewpoints and even discordant stances, and hence succeeded in accommodating diverse perspectives and expectations.
Mulcahy did what the vast majority of leaders would not do: she approached junior subordinates to mentor her in product development, engineering, and finance. Mulcahy ended up saving Xerox and improving its profitability by slashing both its capital expenditures and total debt in half, and cutting its general and administrative expenses by one third.
The proposed wise leadership model broadens the scope of existing approaches, such as authentic, ethical and transformational leadership, by incorporating the core components of judgement, action, morality, and humility.
This new wise leadership scale can serve as a practical tool to assess the degree of wise leadership demonstrated by current employees and to identify individuals with (un) wise tendencies during leadership recruitment and selection processes.
It also offers a valuable mechanism to design and deliver targeted leadership training and development programmes aimed at fostering wisdom in leaders, which may lead, in turn, to generating positive organizational outcomes.
The European Academy of Management (EURAM) is a learned society founded in 2001. With over 2,000 members from 60 countries in Europe and beyond, EURAM aims at advancing the academic discipline of management in Europe.
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Les auteurs ne travaillent pas, ne conseillent pas, ne possèdent pas de parts, ne reçoivent pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'ont déclaré aucune autre affiliation que leur organisme de recherche.
19.05.2026 à 16:38
Florian Leniaud, Docteur en civilisation américaine. Membre associé au Centre d’histoire culturelle des sociétés contemporaines, Université de Versailles Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines (UVSQ) – Université Paris-Saclay
The assassination attempt targeting Donald Trump and several of his most senior cabinet members on April 26 took place at Washington’s Hilton Hotel, the very site where Ronald Reagan had been seriously wounded in a shooting 45 years earlier.
This parallel invites us to examine how the physical attacks suffered by the two Republican presidents reshaped their public image, as well as the ways in which they responded to them.
Forty-five years after the assassination attempt against Ronald Reagan on March 30, 1981, another attack targeting Donald Trump has occurred in the very same place: Washington’s Hilton Hotel.
This detail is far from insignificant, because it transforms an isolated event into a sense of continuity. The location itself becomes a stage. Political violence no longer appears merely as a singular event; instead, it seems to reenact itself, linking two presidential figures through a shared ordeal.
In 1981, Ronald Reagan, whose lung had been punctured by a bullet fired at point-blank range by John Warnock Hinckley Jr.., emerged from the episode profoundly strengthened.
Images of his discharge from the hospital, his humour in the face of mortal danger, and the media narrative surrounding the event all helped to durably establish the image of a leader who had endured, and survived, a major ordeal. Only hours after being shot, Reagan joked to his surgeons, “I hope you are all Republicans.”
The remark immediately spread across the country and helped shape the image of a courageous president, composed and self-assured even in the face of death.
Today, Trump – who had already experienced a similar moment on July 14, 2024, when he emerged with a raised fist and a bloodied ear after surviving an assassination attempt at a campaign rally — appears in a different yet comparable situation in one crucial respect: exposure to violence reinforces the posture of a besieged leader. For nearly a decade, his political rhetoric has largely rested on the idea of an America under threat, surrounded by enemies both foreign and domestic. Each attack therefore strengthens an already established narrative: that of a leader targeted precisely because he embodies a form of political resistance.
In both cases, the event therefore extends beyond the violent act itself, as it is immediately absorbed into a political narrative. Yet this narrative does not operate on its own. It relies on sustained media coverage that transforms violence into a major political sequence. If violence creates the event, the mediated narrative turns it into a political moment.
The information now available about the April 25 attacker, Cole Tomas Allen, confirms that he had planned the attack well in advance. The 31-year-old man had crossed the United States carrying several weapons and had booked a room at the Hilton weeks beforehand.
According to investigators, he intended to target Donald Trump as well as several political officials attending the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.
His writings, a mixture of confession, political manifesto, and farewell message, reveal an accumulation of personal and political grievances directed at the Trump administration.
Authorities also indicated that he did not expect to survive the attack, anchoring his actions in a sacrificial logic that has become relatively common in contemporary mass violence. This dimension is important because it moves away from the idea of a purely impulsive or irrational act. Research on mass shooters has highlighted trajectories often marked by social isolation, forms of humiliation, or a search for recognition. In many cases, the act of violence emerges within an environment saturated with violent and highly mediatised narratives.
Media coverage therefore does not merely function as a channel of information. Through the repeated circulation of images and attackers’ names, it can, for certain individuals, contribute to making such acts seem genuinely possible — that is, imaginable. As violence is replayed continuously, it becomes embedded within a familiar mental horizon in which acting out violently may come to appear as a brutal means of attaining public visibility.
The choice of location plays a central role in this dynamic. These attacks do not occur in neutral spaces: schools, shopping malls, universities, sites of political power, and government buildings all concentrate visibility and media resonance. They function as stages exposed to the nation as a whole.
The Washington Hilton functions, in this respect, as a space of political memory. Already associated with the assassination attempt against Ronald Reagan, it instantly transforms the event into part of a historical continuity. This site of memory generates meaning even before any political interpretation takes shape and extends far beyond the individual act itself.
The comparison between Cole Tomas Allen and John Warnock Hinckley Jr.. nevertheless highlights important differences. Hinckley acted within a deeply personal and obsessive logic combining media fascination with a fixation on the actress Jodie Foster. Allen, by contrast, appears to have been engaged in a far more overtly political and ideological undertaking.
Yet one common feature remains: in both cases, the act targeted a highly visible space now heavily charged with symbolic meaning. Contemporary political violence therefore does not target individuals alone. It also targets places, symbols, and narratives.
This evolution cannot be understood without situating these events within the recent history of the American media landscape. The Ronald Reagan presidency marked a major turning point with the gradual disappearance of the Fairness Doctrine in the late 1980s. Until then, this regulation had required broadcast media to cover controversial issues in a balanced manner.
Its repeal gradually paved the way for a far more polarised media system, in which information became a space of permanent ideological confrontation. The rise of conservative talk radio, followed by cable news networks and social media platforms, fragmented the American public sphere into competing narratives.
In this context, every violent event immediately becomes the object of competing interpretations. For Donald Trump supporters, the attack reinforces the idea of a leader persecuted for challenging parts of the political and media establishment. For his opponents, by contrast, the attack reflects a climate of political tension to which Trump’s rhetoric and his tendency to polarise public debate are seen as having contributed.
Violence thus ceases to be merely a shared tragedy and becomes instead an element of political struggle, used by each side to reinforce its own interpretation of the country, power, and threat.
The issue of firearms occupies a central place in this dynamic. Their widespread circulation sustains a political imaginary grounded in self-defence and the perception of permanent threat. In the United States, firearms are not merely associated with security or recreation; they also function as a cultural and identity marker deeply rooted in sections of American conservatism.
This system operates in a self-reinforcing loop: fear encourages armament, while the omnipresence of firearms makes violence more likely. Each new attack generates a sense of insecurity that, in turn, further legitimises gun ownership.
It is precisely within this tension between gun culture and the direct experience of violence that the comparison between Ronald Reagan and Donald Trump becomes particularly revealing. Reagan, despite being a major figure of American conservatism and a defender of the Second Amendment, gradually shifted his position after surviving the 1981 assassination attempt, notably in an op-ed published in The New York Times. In the 1990s, after leaving office, he publicly supported the Brady Act, legislation strengthening background checks on firearm sales — named in honour of James Brady, the White House press secretary who was severely wounded alongside the president on March 30, 1981, and left permanently disabled by his injuries. Reagan then acknowledged that stricter gun regulations could have saved lives.
Donald Trump, by contrast, has maintained a firmer defence of gun rights, including after having personally been targeted by violence. This difference reflects a deeper transformation within the Republican camp: for Ronald Reagan, violence led, at least partially, to a form of reassessment, whereas for Trump it has tended instead to reinforce an already consolidated political narrative centred on danger and confrontation.
The attack against Donald Trump is not an isolated event. It occurred within a broader context of political polarisation and violence targeting public officials in the United States.
The January 6 United States Capitol attack had already revealed the intensity of a polarisation in which part of the political conflict has now shifted onto the physical and security terrain.
Perhaps most striking, however, is the persistence of the place itself. Forty-five years after Reagan, Washington’s Hilton Hotel reemerges as though certain spaces retain the memory of the violence that has passed through them. The location no longer merely hosts the event; it gives it an immediate historical depth and connects multiple moments of American political life through the same stage.
From Reagan to Trump, the political effects may differ, but one constant remains: exposure to violence can strengthen the symbolic power of political authority. While political violence has long been part of American history, its constant media circulation and its inscription within a deeply polarised landscape now give it a particular resonance, in which every attack immediately becomes a political and media confrontation that extends far beyond the event itself.
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Florian Leniaud ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.