And Then There Were More

"Not One More!"

~ Richard Martinez,

father of slain UCSB student, Chris Martinez

There have been three more shootings since I wrote my last blog post. If I hear one more NRA supporter repeat their "guns don't kill people, people do" mantra I think my head will explode. Guns DO kill people. We allow guns to fall into the hands of people with a violent agenda, people with severe mental illness, children for god's sake. Without the easy access of guns there would be far fewer shootings. This is not rocket science. A lot more carnage can be wrought with a semi-automatic weapon than with a knife. It's a lot harder to subdue someone firing an assault rifle with a large capacity magazine than it is to bring down a person throwing rocks. I'm sorry, but guns DO kill people. A lot of people.

It is true that guns are only part of the problem in our culture of violence however. With every shot fired we should hear the anguished cries of people with mental illness who are not getting adequate care in this country, the vast majority of whom will NEVER engage in a violent act. In every gun extremist carrying a loaded assault rifle through a Target store, we should see a man in desperate need of a new definition of masculinity and strength. In the sale of every violent video game (and my son plays these games), we should ask ourselves why we have become so fearful that we would rather our kids engage in violent mayhem in a virtual world, than play outside in the real world. And in neighborhoods where playing outside really IS more dangerous, well that takes us back to the proliferation of guns.

We've got a tangled mess on our hands and there is no silver bullet (pun intended) that can fix it. The problem of violence in our country does not have a single root. It has roots in inadequate mental health care, income inequality, how we define masculinity, social isolation, misogyny, drug trafficking, media coverage of violence and on and on. But there is one constant. And that is guns. We allow guns to fall into the wrong hands, we permit our politicians to remain beholden to the NRA, we give shooters a public platform and the notoriety to inspire the next shooter, we look for arguments and statistics that support our personal views on guns (I know I do), we take sides and shout at each other. We work ourselves up into a panic over guns. And worst of all, we become numb to gun violence. In between shootings we conveniently forget.

There is plenty of justification for anger around gun violence, and there is a place for it. But if anger only leads to shouting matches and finger pointing then we get nowhere. So what do we do? I find that I turn to these words by writer Parker Palmer when faced with yet another tragic shooting:

"In times of deep darkness, we not only need light—
we need to BE light for one another.

That's a message we must take to heart as we find ourselves lost once again

in the all-too-familiar darkness of America's culture of violence."

So how can I be a light? Well, I can keep writing about our "culture of violence," doing my small part to keep the conversation going. I can put some time and effort into advocating for sensible gun laws, such as assault weapons bans and training and licensing for gun operators akin to getting a driver's license. Gun control is not a panacea, but it is an important step in controlling violent crime. I won't forbid my son from playing video games (turning them into even more desirable forbidden fruit), but I can make sure he has plenty positive masculine role models, and healthy activities that connect him with his peers. I can believe that his positive energy will ripple out to those around him.

Perhaps hardest of all, I can learn to listen deeply, especially to people in pain or those I don't agree with. What if I trade in some of my righteous anger for compassion? What if I help build connections between people? I honestly believe the only way we can begin to see our way out of this thicket of hatred and violence is through compassionate, constructive dialogue. And I can only be a part of that process by holding up a mirror. Whatever I choose to do, I have to ask myself if I am putting my best possible self forward.