A Sickness Within
In the wake of the latest and most terrible mass shooting in our history, we are once again witnessing a shadow play that we have seen many times before. Those, who are justifiably outraged by the slaughter in Las Vegas, are crying out for “common sense gun control”. Those, who stubbornly believe that even the slightest attempt to control guns is blasphemy, retort that “now is not the time to politicize a tragedy”. Both send their perfunctory “thoughts and prayers” to the victims and their families, as if thoughts and prayers could somehow bring back the dead and erase all memory of the tragedy itself.
We all know how this sadly predictable shadow play is going to end. The motives of the killer will be psychoanalyzed in excruciating detail. The excuse will be made that he was in no way typical of “law abiding” gun owners. We will be told for the thousandth time that “guns don’t kill; people do”. Meaningful action will be deferred until the public’s fury eventually subsides. Republicans and a few timid Democrats from gun-friendly states will then avow their unflinching fidelity to the Second Amendment. And, in the end, the NRA will get its way. It always does.
I do not propose to add another word to the thousands that have already been written about this deplorable farce. I have something else to say.
It is that “common sense gun control” is a contradiction in terms and a complete waste of time—because there is nothing even remotely sensible about owning guns in the first place.
Anyone who claims that he needs a gun to protect himself against burglars or break-ins is living in a fantasy world conjured up by the gun lobby. Crimes against property are lower than they’ve been in decades. The odds of the average American suffering a “home invasion” are close to zero.
Anyone who asserts that he needs a gun to protect himself against “bad guys with guns” has watched too many Bruce Willis movies. More than half the gun-related deaths in this country are suicides; a majority of the rest occur within families—all too often, perpetrated by violent husbands who turn their weapons against their own spouses or children.
Any gun-owner who claims to be a “sportsman” should ask himself what “sport” there is in slaughtering animals that have not the slightest chance of escape or survival when they face tormentors larded up with the technology of modern warfare. Guns aren’t the equivalent of baseball bats, tennis racquets, or hockey sticks. They are instruments of death, and their only purpose is to draw blood. Where is the “sport” in that?
It is time to recognize that our nation’s love affair with guns is beyond being senseless—it is a sickness, with deep roots in our past and our psyche. If this sickness were limited to our private behavior within our own borders, it would be bad enough. But it extends to our behavior on the world stage.
On a planet with a population of nearly eight billion, there are roughy 875 million privately owned firearms. Americans add up to merely five percent of that population, but they own 40 percent of the weapons. Exactly the same ratio applies to our share of global military spending. This may be coincidental, of course. But if it is, the coincidence is chilling.
Since the end of the Second World War, we have used our military power—our weapons—to wage dozens of undeclared wars on almost every continent of the globe. We have instigated dozens of illegal coups d’état to topple democratically elected governments that refused to kowtow to our interests. Far from decrying such crimes, our public culture worships those who commit them. Any man, woman, or donkey who dons a uniform and picks up a weapon is automatically declared a “hero”.
In truth, many of the most revered “heroes” in our national mythology were little more than violent, gun-toting thugs. Andrew Jackson, the “hero” of the Battle of New Orleans, was a killer and a racist. Teddy Roosevelt, the “hero” of the Battle of San Juan Hill, was an unapologetic imperialist, who loved nothing better than staring down the barrel of a gun and killing every hapless creature in sight. The “heroes” who died at the Alamo did not fight to free themselves from Mexican tyranny; they fought to prevent their slaves being freed by a Mexican government that outlawed slavery three decades before the Emancipation Proclamation. If these so-called “heroes” were alive today, they would undoubtedly be card-carrying members of the NRA. The line from “Old Hickory” to Donald Trump runs dead straight.
Americans are constantly told that ours is a morally “exceptional” nation, an example for the rest of the world to admire and emulate. This is a fairy tale. If we are exceptional, it is because we have an exceptionally aggressive and violent history.
Our country was created by conquest, exploitation, extermination, and theft—all carried out at gunpoint. The labor of millions of black Africans, dragged to these shores in chains, was extracted by white Americans carrying guns. The lands and lives of millions of Native Americans were stolen by white Americans carrying guns. The freedoms of countless Puerto Ricans, Hawaiians, and Filipinos were crushed by white Americans carrying guns.
All the hifalutin talk about Second Amendment freedom and self-defense, all the fear-mongering about crime and “bad guys,” all the conspiracy theories about the federal government “coming for our guns” is designed to paper over what amounts to a pathological obsession. Americans idolize their guns, because guns make them feel powerful. Many cling to their guns, because they are pathetically insecure about their manhood or their place in the world. Some are addicted to their guns, because they are violent and unstable bullies, who shouldn’t be allowed to get behind the wheel of a car, let alone own a firearm.
No “common sense” measures will ever rid the country of this sickness. The only cure is to shed our illusions, see the sickness for what it actually is, and rip it out. Until that day comes, the next Las Vegas is just around the corner.
On the evening of April 7, 1775, Dr. Samuel Johnson, who gave us the first definitive dictionary of the English language, remarked to his friend and biographer, James Boswell: “Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.” We do not know what sparked this now famous aperçu or exactly which scoundrel the redoubtable doctor had in mind—because Boswell didn’t say.
Confronting the cumulative calamities of Hurricanes Harvey and Irma, and now Hurricane Maria, many journalists and even many climate scientists have struck a conspicuously cautious note in discussing the connection between these catastrophes and climate change. Again and again, they have drawn a fine and tortured distinction between the intensity of these events and their frequency, asserting that global warming may affect the one but not cause the other. We can be reasonably certain, they insist, that climate change made these storms worse, but we cannot be absolutely certain that it caused them. This, it has to be said, is a distinction without a difference.
Since the largely unexpected—and to some, still shocking—outcome of the 2016 presidential election, many of the country’s leading liberal thinkers have been asking a question that is now emblazoned on the title page of Hillary Clinton’s new book: What Happened? Not content with trying to answer that question, liberals have gone on to flagellate themselves for failing to see it coming.
In deciding to rescind Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, a.k.a. DACA, a policy introduced by President Barack Obama to protect the innocent children of illegal immigrants from deportation, Donald Trump had neither the courage nor the courtesy to announce the decision himself. Instead, he handed this disreputable task to his all too eager Attorney General, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III.
What has happened, and is still happening, to the people of the Gulf coast of Texas and Louisiana is heartbreaking. Thousands have lost their homes. Thousands more have been displaced. For hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, it will be many months, even years, before their lives can be pieced back together. A large swath of Houston, our nation’s fourth largest city, is underwater. Much of its infrastructure has been washed away. Many of its streets and schools, bayous and bridges, parks and public places are all but gone. The mere thought of how all this damage is to be repaired boggles the mind.
I recently spent a couple of weeks at the University of Oxford, where I took two courses in political philosophy. One of my classmates was a Labour Member of Parliament from Australia, who had a wicked sense of humor and was an unapologetic Marxist. This unlikely combination—a communist with comedic talent, as if Karl and Groucho Marx had been rolled into one—was hard to resist. In any event, we struck up a friendship that led to numerous sidebar conversations, not only about our coursework, but also about political events in general. During one of these exchanges, my funny friend cast humor aside to express the worry that “identity politics”—based on race, gender, religion or culture—poses a serious, perhaps a fatal, threat to left-leaning political parties throughout the western world.
In the wake of Donald Trump’s shocking rant just 48 hours ago about the tragic events in Charlottesville, Virginia, during which he sought to equate the motives and behavior of Neo-Nazis and white racists with those who gathered to protest against them, Republicans have finally begun to speak out. A few have denounced the president directly. More, like Speaker of the House Paul Ryan and Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, have confined their denunciations to the evils of racism and bigotry without denouncing the evil-doer himself. The latter have been criticized, and justly so, for failing to draw the obvious connection between the bigoted rhetoric of the president and the murderous violence in Charlottesville.
Forty-eight hours ago, the Congress of the United States adjourned for its summer recess. By all accounts, members of both the House and the Senate, particularly those on the Republican side, were relieved to escape not only the notoriously oppressive summer weather of the nation’s capital, but even more so the stormy weather emanating from the increasingly chaotic and floundering presidency of Donald J. Trump.
With summer well underway, several million American tourists will visiting Europe, more than a few for the first time. Many will return in slack-jawed wonder, awed by the immaculate roads, the fast and efficient trains and trams, the sprawling parks, the vast public spaces, and the magnificent monuments and museums that adorn the great cities of the continent. They will come home, asking themselves why we, who live in the richest country on earth, cannot achieve something similar?