Like many Americans, I’ve spent the weekend
reeling from Friday morning’s massacre in Aurora. I live in the Denver area, probably 15 miles or so from the
theater, so for that reason the shooting has really affected me. Not that I’m not affected by other tragedies. Not that I don’t feel a sense of anger and
sadness when I read, for example, of US drones murdering more people in
Pakistan or Yemen. But my proximity to
the Aurora
massacre has affected me on a different level.
It has served as a reminder of my own mortality.
When I read about people being
slaughtered overseas, I feel sad but I never feel a sense of personal danger, I
never feel that that could happen to me.
Not so with the Aurora
massacre. I just went to a movie the
previous weekend. (My wife and I saw the
other super-hero movie in theaters, Spider-Man.) So I know that I could have easily been in that
theater in Aurora. I realize—more viscerally than I normally
do—that I’m just as vulnerable as the people who were there. I’m reminded that I could just as easily, at
any moment, have my life taken from me.
We—all of us—spend our lives in a cloud of
unawareness, focusing on the minutiae of our daily lives and pushing the bigger
issues from our minds. It is only
incidents like the shooting that seem capable of forcing us to remember that nothing’s
certain, that this could all be taken from us in the blink of an eye.
* * * * *
So how to respond to this
death-awareness? That, to me, seems like
one of the most important questions we can ask ourselves.
The answer, for me at least, is to
confront my feelings of death as honestly as I can. That is, to admit that I don’t know what the
meaning of life is, that I don’t know what happens upon death, and that this
ignorance scares the shit out of me.
It’s much easier, on some level anyway,
to tell myself that I do have it all figured out, that, for example, I know
there’s an all-loving god who will ultimately right every wrong. But when I’m honest with myself I have to admit
that I don’t know the answers to any of these big questions. And I have to admit that this uncertainty
terrifies me.
Yet I’ve found
that I’m much better off when I confront this terror. Because when I repress it, the terror doesn’t
go away, it simply manifests itself into different forms. I end up with debilitating neuroses. The terror often turns into aggression
towards others.
Confronting my
terror of death is not easy. And,
needless to say, it’s not completely possible: even when I spend time thinking
about my own mortality, I still have difficulty believing, really believing,
that I will one day die, that I will really, actually die. Nonetheless, when I do, to some degree,
confront my terror of death, I find that my awareness is heightened, I find that I'm better able to appreciate life and connect with others.
* * * * *
Predictably,
many have responded to the shootings by renewing their efforts to reinstate the ban
on assault weapons. Although I used to
be against all forms of gun control, the shooting made me realize that
reinstating the assault weapons ban really is—or should be—a no-brainer.
There is
absolutely no legitimate reason why such weapons are legal. None at all.
As many columnists over the weekend have pointed out, the only reason
the ban was allowed to expire is that the NRA has such a stranglehold on
Congress.
I’m actually
starting to believe that banning other guns, not just assault weapons, would
make us safer. Which, coming from a
former gun-toting right-winger, is saying a lot. Anyway, I’ll save those thoughts for another
day.
* * * * *
One can’t read
about such a massacre without wondering about the motives of the killer. Clearly this man had some sort of mental
breakdown. That much seems obvious. But that doesn’t preclude other factors,
other explanations for his behavior.
Nicolas Powers at Alternet writes:
In her book The Amok Complex,
[German professor Ines Geipel] analyzed five mass shootings in Europe and distilled from the gunmen a common character.
They live in pricey towns, come from well-heeled families but are labeled outsiders due to their failure to achieve in the high
pressure of class paranoia…
In
the British paper the Independent, Dr. Keith Ashcroft wrote
how the path from low self-esteem is layered with resentment which becomes
paranoia. The retreat from others into a shrinking world of rage and self-pity
creates the conditions for more social isolation. A fast and powerful downward
spiral begins that pulls the young men into fantasies of revenge. And finally
there is some triggering event, loss of a lover or a job or a home that snaps
him. “Their paranoia heightens the sense that the whole world is against them,
which increases their anger,” he wrote “It is very immature to want a gun in
order to have a sense of power and fulfillment. But it is a way of regaining
control.” (“A
Long Dark Night: Gun Violence Romanticized and the New Batman Movie,” July
20, 2012).
Professor James Alan Fox writes in USA
Today:
Mass killers
tend to be profoundly frustrated and despondent over life's disappointments,
isolated from family and friends who might be in a position to provide comfort
and support, and see themselves as the victim of undeserved mistreatment and
unfairness. For them, the act of murder against certain people seen as
responsible for their misfortune, if not against a corrupt society in general,
is justified. Successful and fulfilled people, by contrast, have little need
for vengeance or reason to wreak havoc in such a dramatic and public fashion.
(“Mass
murder is predictably unpredictable,” July 22, 2012)
All of which
makes me conclude that the best way to
prevent future killings is not legislation.
As much as I think sensible gun-control is needed, I think loving others
is a better, more effective solution. As I said
earlier, we—and I definitely include myself in this we—tend to live our lives
in a state of unawareness, too paralyzed by our fear of death to ever really live. If we could just deal with our own shit, if
we could just wake up, so to speak, then we’d start to see, really see, those around
us and be able to give them the love they deserve.
We will never be able to conquer death. We will never be able to completely eliminate senseless violence. But I think we can nonetheless get better. We can make the world, even if just slightly, a better place.
