Gun Dis-ease

Earnestness abides on all sides of the gun debate.

An earnest desire to end the carnage of mass shootings. An earnest desire to focus on the "real" problems of gun violence: mental healthcare, gang violence, illegal sales. An earnest desire to protect a Constitutional right.

All of these things matter, deeply.

And they are all possible to achieve.

We should acknowledge that the majority of gun deaths in America are self-inflicted. Gun "violence" is primarily violence against the self. If we seek to reduce gun deaths, we will provide our neighbors access to mental healthcare when they are troubled or unwell. This will require our nation to pursue some form of healthcare for all.

Gun violence is also enmeshed with gang violence. The cry from liberals is far louder for "gun control" in the days after a mass shooting than it is in response to the slower, steadier murder of young black men. There is continuous warfare on the streets of our towns, and it is mostly young men of color killing each other with guns illegally procured. If we would reduce gun deaths, we will address the channels by which weapons are illegally bought and sold. And we will take care of and provide opportunities for our young men.

Mass shootings can, I'm afraid, never be prevented. But the severity of mass shootings can be lessened by reducing the availability of high-capacity magazines, as well as "bump stocks" and other readily-available modifications to guns that magnify their lethal power.

All these things are possible. But none of these things touches on the core issue of gun violence: despair.

The greatest cause of gun violence is despair. Despair is the human experience that most resembles death. It is the loss of hope, the loss of agency and meaning, the loss of loved ones and friends. It is isolating. It is a pit. It feels like death.

Our culture effectively abandons our despairing neighbors. We have pursued individualism to such a radical degree, that we act as though those who are despairing have themselves to blame. We cut them off, leave them behind. Left to their own devices, to their madness, they inflict their nihilistic, senseless rage on us: on people dancing together, on school children, on worshippers.

The question we should be asking after these shootings--after the requisite questions about "where did the gun come from?" and "how was it modified?" and "who is the killer and what was the motive?"--are questions about the killer's despair. How did the circle of support around that person fall down? Where did we fail to nourish and nurture that person's sense of self and belief in the value of their life--and the lives of others? What was the killer watching on TV? Reading online? Where could regular, loving, caring relationships have turned the despair into something less lethal? And more poignantly, where can I lovingly engage with someone who is despairing in my daily walk?

Something about who we are and how we live is cultivating despair. It is our job--together--to find out what we are doing wrong... and to make it right.