Gun control - why the debate isn't getting us anywhere

Well, here we are again.

And you know something? As soon as we'd heard there was a shooting... even before we began scrolling down our Facebook pages, even before Senators began to talk, we all knew EXACTLY what would be said, and what would be done.

Here’s what we knew would be said by both sides:

(insert inflammatory rhetoric here)

And here’s what we knew would be done:

Nothing.

And here, I think, is why nothing is done:

The inflammatory rhetoric.

It’s natural for us to feel strongly about this issue. It strikes at our sense of safety, makes us afraid and angry. And that activates the limbic system - the part of the brain that’s in charge of safety and survival. Thing is, that also DE-activates the cortex – the part of the brain that’s in charge of empathy and rational thought. The limbic system takes over, and the limbic system only knows three tricks: Fight, flight, and freeze.

And when we know that flight or freeze won’t keep us safe, we’re down to one option.

And we can’t fight the killer who shot (insert large number here) innocent people, since he (invariably a “he”, have you noticed? But the subject of toxic cultural expectations of masculinity would require a separate post all to itself…) has already either killed himself or been killed/captured by law enforcement.

But the limbic system is screaming that we NEED to fight to protect ourselves.

So we fight each other about what needs to be done to make future recurrence less likely.

And because the limbic system has shut off the part of our brain that might have empathy for whoever we fight, and might be able to appeal logically to common ground, the fights get REAL ugly, REAL fast.

And here’s the thing:

When we begin a discussion by making the other person feel attacked, we are NOT going to end it by convincing them to agree with us, or compromise with us, or even listen to what we have to say.

 

I wish to God that both sides of the gun control debate would be silent for a week after the shooting, take the time to mourn and to de-escalate, and THEN begin discussing the issue. And I wish both sides would begin the discussion by at least admitting these things:

1.     Neither side are stupid. Both sides certainly have stupid people and trolls, and those tend to be the loudest and to post online the most… but the average gun owner, and the average gun control advocate, are intelligent people, with valid and logical reasons for believing as they do.

2.     Neither side are evil. Again, truly horrible people exist on both sides. And I’m convinced that the politicians involved (on both sides) are simply doing what they know will get their constituents to re-elect them, just like they do on every issue. But most of the voters supporting the politicians – most of the ordinary people on both sides of the debate - are decent human beings, genuinely horrified by each shooting, genuinely wanting to ensure things like this stop happening, genuinely afraid that things like this will NEVER stop happening if the other side gets their way.

3.     Neither side wants people to be hurt or killed. For God’s sake, we’re not Facebook friends with sociopaths, right? And our Facebook friends must have reasonably good taste in friends, since they’re friends with us, right? So our Facebook friends aren’t friends with sociopaths either… right? All the people we’re debating… They’re human beings with families and friends that they love and want to protect, and they are terrified that their families and friends might be the victims of the next shooter. Just like us.

4.     Both sides are passionate about their view because both sides are concerned about safety. Gun owners are convinced that the only way for them to be safe from a shooter is to have the means to shoot first. Gun control advocates are convinced that the only way for them to be safe from a shooter is to make it as difficult as possible for someone to acquire something to shoot with. The common theme is that we feel our safety is threatened, and that we can NOT tolerate a threat to our safety.

5.     Both sides are coming at the issue based on their own valid needs and experiences.

A lot of the people who most want gun control live in cities or suburbs – places where the only possible reason to own a gun would be to shoot a person. We don’t have deer roaming my neighborhood waiting to be turned into venison. We don’t have cougars roaming my neighborhood waiting to get our chickens – or our children. The only threatening creatures we have are human beings; and if they have a gun that they intend to use, they intend to use it on a person. So of course we don’t want the damn things in other people’s hands. Of course we feel unsafe knowing that out of the thousands of people we encounter every day, any one of them might have a deadly weapon and a grudge. And the mass shootings happen in cities – because you can’t commit a mass shooting unless you go someplace where there are masses to shoot.

And a lot of the people who are most opposed to gun control live in rural areas – places where they might need a gun to hunt for food because that’s a cheaper and fresher option than the grocery store; places where they might need it to kill foxes that are stealing chickens, or wolves that are stealing sheep, or bears that would happily eat humans. So of course they feel unsafe without a gun, and are worried that it could be a slippery slope from banning assault rifles to banning all rifles. And they don’t get mass shootings in the country – the mass shooter wants high body counts and lots of media coverage, so they go to the city where they can get those things. Mass shootings just aren’t a danger they face in the country. But cougars are.

 

Then, too, there’s the home defense angle – it looks different in a city than in a rural area. If I look out my window and see a prowler, my best bet is to get away from the windows and call 911. A SWAT team can be there in 5 minutes. Even if I had an assault rifle and was 100% accurate with it, why would I increase the danger by getting in the line of fire when I can call in several well-trained, heavily armed and armored people who will do a much better job of neutralizing the threat? In the country, on the other hand, there might not even be a police department in town. The nearest cop might be over an hour away on the other side of the county. So there, the best bet is to take cover and shoot through the windows. With the biggest gun you can get.

 

See, there’s a cultural divide between these groups of people:

To the average gun control advocate, a man with a gun is a bad guy. He’s a mass shooting about to happen. That’s been our only experience with guns. That’s why we can’t imagine ever wanting them around.

To the average gun rights advocate, a man with a gun is a good guy. He’s going hunting or defending himself from predators (human or otherwise). That’s been their only experience with guns. That’s why they can’t imagine ever being without them.

 

I’m in favor of tight gun control. At the very least, banning the kind of guns that are designed for the sole purpose of killing lots of people. And I feel that way because in my world, the only possible scenario in which I might conceivably need an assault rifle would be a scenario in which someone else is already firing one into a crowd. And by the time I was able to get the thing ready to fire, the shooter would have seen me and shot me, so the gun would DECREASE my safety.

 

Let’s take the Orlando shooting for an example of why “good guys with guns” is not an argument that convinces the anti-gun crowd, particularly those of us who live in heavily populated cities or suburbs. Let’s say I take the advice of my pro-gun friends and I get a 9 mm, I get a concealed carry permit, I practice and practice until I’m deadly accurate with the gun, and I keep it on me everywhere I go. Let’s say that all good guys do this.

So I’m in a club now, and someone opens fire. I’m a good guy with a gun… but right now, the room is dark, noisy, chaotic, and full of people. If I draw now, I’m not gonna have a clear shot at the killer, but the killer will see the glint of metal and aim for me. My gun won’t help me yet.

So I take cover. (Right, I’ve also gotten some training in tactical maneuvering… I’ve never been a cop or a soldier, but let’s say the hundreds of hours I spent playing Contra as a kid have somehow prepared me for this moment, and I somehow know what I’m doing here.) Now I’m in a position where I’m hard to hit, and trying to find the bad guy so I can gun him down.

But … all the other good guys with guns have done the same thing. The room is now full of angry, panicking people who have drawn weapons. How do any of us know which ones are good guys with guns, and which ones are bad guys with guns?

All we know is which guys have guns.

And if they’re firing, I don’t know if they’re firing at the shooter or at victims.

And I still don’t have a clear shot, because they’re behind cover and there’s still panicking people running around trying to find the exits.

So … do I hesitate, holding a gun, until all the other good guys with guns start firing at me because they can’t tell by looking at me that I’m a good guy? Or do I start firing at whoever seems to be firing?

And then, let’s say the police arrive. Now the first officer comes in and bellows “POLICE! EVERYONE DROP YOUR WEAPONS!” But… will we hear him, through the sound of gunfire and screams and dance music? Will we see, through the fog of adrenaline, in a dark room with strobe lights, that this new figure entering the room is a cop? Or will I see someone in body armor holding a big-ass rifle … and remember that the Colorado movie theater shooter was dressed like that… and realize that I have a clear shot at an apparent threat who’s standing outlined in the doorway?

And will the cop be able to look at me and see “good guy with gun, probably couldn’t hear me”? Or will he see “White male suspect, holding firearm in a threatening manner, did not comply with order to drop weapon”?

In the city, “good guys with guns” wouldn’t stop a bloodbath. They’d turn a bloodbath into an even bigger bloodbath.

 

BUT: If I lived in the world of the person who lives an hour or more from the nearest police station… if I knew the time might come when the only thing I could do to protect myself and my loved ones would be to shoot a bear, or shoot a 300-lb felon… I would NEED a gun. I really would.

And I wouldn’t want to be using a little handgun, or a shotgun that would take time to reload if I missed the first shot (or one shot wasn’t enough to kill). I’d want something that would reduce the threat to a red mist on the first hit. And I’d want it to hold enough bullets in the magazine, and fire rapidly enough, to guarantee a hit. And I’d want it to have enough range to hit the felon before he got close enough to return fire.

Does that mean I should be allowed to have an assault rifle? Hell no.

 

But it does mean I can imagine why a sane, decent human being might want one. If I can’t offer empathy for that guy’s need, and offer him something to assure him that he can still keep himself and his loved ones safe, then I’m just not gonna convince him to help me get the laws changed. And if I can’t get that guy to work with me on getting the laws changed, then I’ll be SOL at keeping myself and my loved ones safe.

6.     Both sides are attacking each other because both sides are tired of feeling attacked by each other. We’re tired of being painted as clueless hippies or dumb hicks, tired of being told we’re stupid or evil or everything that’s wrong with America. We’re tired of the straw-man arguments and the memes and the inflammatory rhetoric. We’re tired of people telling us we’re the bad guy. We feel attacked, so we counter-attack, because that’s the only way the limbic system knows how to deal with an attack.

If everyone would at least give each other that much basic respect and decency, and see that the common ground is "We’re concerned about our safety", we MIGHT manage to begin a productive conversation about how we can all BE safer. We MIGHT stop seeing the other side as enemies and start working jointly on solutions. No solution will be perfect, no solution will eliminate all shootings, and no solution will make everyone happy. Chances are, no solution will fully satisfy anyone. But there MUST be a solution that everyone can live with, and that will at least improve our odds of living out our expected threescore and ten. We will NOT find that solution if we keep shouting at each other. We MIGHT find it if we listen respectfully to each other. We will NOT find that solution if we keep posting memes that set up straw-man arguments. We MIGHT find that solution if we all decide to stop being manipulated into stalemate by politicians who profit on polarization, and we all start demanding that they knock off the posturing and start doing real, bipartisan work on laws that make sense for both sides.

Until then, it's gonna keep going exactly as it has been going. Lots of the same old rhetoric on both sides, and lots more mass shootings.

 

© John M. Munzer

What should happen to rapists in prison

TRIGGER WARNING: This post is about rape, and about the things that are wrong with our society that perpetuate rape.


“So the witnesses say they saw you thrusting inside a woman who was unconscious. And you say she gave consent” repeated Officer Jones in a flat voice.

The young man nodded.

“Anything else to add to your statement?”

“Not without an attorney present.”

“I see. Well, you’ve made your phone call, but since your attorney didn’t pick up, I don’t expect to see him tonight, so I’m afraid you’ll be staying with us. I’ll bring you to your cell now and introduce you to your cellmates. They could teach you a few things about rape.”

For the first time, the young man’s confident façade cracked, and he broke out into a cold sweat. “What? You can’t put me in a cell with violent offenders! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“You. Haven’t. Done. Anything. Wrong. She was unconscious. She was disoriented when we did wake her up and ask her if she knew what had happened. She was bleeding from places that shouldn’t be bleeding after consensual sex. She was bruised in places no man should ever bruise a woman. She was shocked to discover that her panties were missing. She began sobbing uncontrollably once we finally could make her understand that witnesses found her lying half naked with a man on top of her, thrusting inside her while she was unconscious. And you haven’t done anything wrong. Tell your cellmates that. They all tell me they haven’t done anything wrong either.”

“A friend of mine attends that school, you know. It could have easily been her at that party tonight” added the officer, almost as an aside.

Almost.

“Your cell is this way. You can walk on your own feet or you can be... escorted there. Which do you prefer?”

The officer’s face, voice, and body language never changed, perfectly level and calm throughout. But the base of the young man’s spine was ringing frantic alarm bells, screaming that underneath that icy calm was a man who was a breath away from committing a calm, passionless, and above all prolonged and methodical murder.

“I’ll walk.”

“Good choice. First one you’ve made tonight, it would seem.”

As they walked down the corridor, the officer continued, in the tone of someone discussing the weather or offering a neighbor advice on how to grow roses, “I suggest you try not to upset Bubba. You’ll know which one he is. Bubba tends to… stand out. It’s just that I have to process the paperwork for your intake in my office, and I can’t hear anything that happens in your cell on the other end of the hall. So try not to upset him, because it’ll be a while before I get a chance to check on you.”

“No! You can’t put me in there. Put me in solitary! I wanna go into solitary!” gasped the young man frantically.

“Oh, solitary is for people who are too dangerous to be in a cell with other inmates. And you’re not a danger to anyone, right? You’ve done nothing wrong, right? That’s what you said”, deadpanned Officer Jones as he unlocked the cell door. Raising his voice, Officer Jones nodded at one of the bigger men in the cell. “Hey, Bubba, this young man appears to be confused about the difference between sex and rape. Perhaps you gentlemen could teach him something about it while I’m gone.”

“Glad to, Officer Jones” leered the giant.

Officer Jones then locked the young man in the cell, turned his back, and strode unhurriedly back down the long, long hallway.

Bubba was everything that fear, and rumor, and T.V., had led the young man to expect in a prison cell. Easily 6 foot 6 and 300 pounds, burly, hairy, sweaty, shaved head and giant arms covered in tattoos. There were other, even bigger inmates in the cell; but even they were visibly giving Bubba as much space as the cell allowed. Bubba turned upon the young man the unblinking stare of a man who would kill, and kill, and kill again, and never stop to think about the consequences.

“Boy”, drawled Bubba, “I’mma fuck you so far up your ass you’re gon’ feel my dick in your mouth. An’ we’re all gon’ take turns, ain’t we, boys? Fair’s fair, gotta share. Would you like that, boy?”

The boy was now pale, shaking, and could feel an unpleasant trickle down his legs.

“I SAID, would you like that, boy?” Bubba’s voice sharpened as he took a step closer.

Frozen with fear, the young man neither spoke nor moved as Bubba took another step, and another.

“Ain’t you got nothin’ to say, boy? A smart college boy like you?” growled Bubba, as he brought his face inches from the young man’s.

“Woo-ee, he’s a purty thing, ain’t he, Bubba? Looks to me like someone who likes it rough!” catcalled one of the other inmates.

“What’sa matter, boy? Too drunk to say anythin’?” continued Bubba. “Or maybe… (here the voice dropped to a whisper as Bubba grinned unpleasantly) maybe too scared to say anythin’?”

Still no move, no sound, came from the young man who was screaming inside.

“Well, then, I guess we’d better not do it. After all, we don’t have your permission to touch you that way”, said Bubba in an entirely different voice, with no menace in it. “If you haven’t explicitly said yes, then the answer is no, and I have no right to put my hands – or indeed, any other body part – on you. Ain’t that right, boys?” Bubba called to his cellmates as he finally broke eye contact and took a step back.

“That’s right, Bubba” chorused the other inmates. “Just cuz he didn’t say no, don’t mean it’s okay”, added one man with a flaming skull tattooed on his face. “An’ just cuz we could force him or scare him into it, that don’t make it right either”, chimed in another with biceps big enough to have their own ZIP code. “And shit, if he’s still drunk, even if he DID say yes, I wouldn’t consider that true consent, not till he’d sobered up enough to make rational decisions”, continued a man with a beard big enough to hide a colony of badgers. “Mind you, he’s a pretty little thing and I’d sure like to ride him. But it ain’t right, not if he don’t say he wants it too”, intoned the biggest man in the room.

Suddenly Bubba was an inch from the young man again.

“THAT’S the difference, boy” hissed Bubba in the boy’s ear, each word snapping like a whip lash. “THAT’S the difference between sex and rape.”

Bubba then stepped back a few paces and sat on his bunk. Gesturing toward another bunk, he quietly said “Sit down, son. There’s obviously some things you need to learn, and you’re going to learn them now if it takes all night” continued Bubba’s new voice - the tone of a teacher patiently spelling out a basic concept to a pupil who should already have understood by now.

“If she didn’t say no, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

If she was too drunk to say no, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

If she was too scared to say no, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

If she was too young to say no, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

 

If she said yes earlier then said she ain’t sure about it now, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

If she’s got a physical or mental disability that makes her unable to say no, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

If you pushed her into it, or tricked her into it, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

If for any reason she can’t say no, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

If she said yes last night, that don’t mean the answer is yes tonight.

If you’re married to her, that don’t mean the answer is yes.

You know what means yes?

If she says yes.

Yes is yes. Anythin’ else is no.

And son, if you kept goin’ when there wasn’t a clear yes, then the answer was no, and you committed rape.

And if you committed rape, son, then you forfeited your humanity.

The moment you decided she wasn’t human like you, with rights and needs like you, someone who deserves a choice just like you… the moment you treated her like a thing to be used, and her body like something you could take just because you wanted it, you denied her humanity. And by denyin’ someone else’s humanity, you forfeit your own.

Son, if she didn’t clearly say yes, then you lost your soul tonight.

I don’t care if you believe in a soul, or sin, or God, or hell, or any of that… if you pushed your 'yes' on her and ignored her 'no', then you lost the part of you that’s really you. And there’s only one way you can get it back.

Confess your guilt. Don’t put the girl through hell tryin’ to prove beyond reasonable doubt to a bunch of strangers what you and she both already know damn well is true. Admit what you did.

Admit that what you did wasn’t a mere mistake, and it wasn’t something that can be blamed on alcohol, or the girl’s short skirt, or your bros eggin’ you on, or anything or anyone but you. What you did was a crime, the one unforgivable sin: treatin’ people like things. Worse in a way than murder - though murder ain’t right either. But at least with murder, the victim’s suffering ends when the crime does. With rape, THE VICTIM’S SUFFERING WILL NEVER END. And you can’t never fix it. But you have a responsibility to do all you can to make it as right as you can.

Beg her, NOT for forgiveness. You have no right to ask her to give you anything, not after what you took from her. But beg her not to allow your crime to define her. Beg her not to stop seeing herself as human just because you failed to see her as human. Beg her never to forget that she deserves to have her rights and boundaries respected. Beg her to get all the help she can to heal from the trauma you inflicted on her. Ask her, if she will accept it, to allow you to pay for any therapy she needs in order to feel some peace an’ safety again. If she won’t accept it from you, then you must NOT push her to take anything from you. Not again. Instead you must pay by donating to a charity that helps women to recover from rape. And that still will not even the score. Nothin’ ever will. But you will spend the rest of your life doing all you can to make things as right as they can be made, because you owe her that.

You owe it to every other woman out there, and every other man out there, to do all you can to teach young men not to do what you did tonight.

Then, only then, will you be human again.

Only then will you have bought back your soul.”

 

There was silence for a full five minutes.

 

Then footsteps echoed down the hall, and Officer Jones returned.

“Young man, it seems another cell just opened up without anyone else in it. I’ll transfer you to that cell. Hope you boys had a nice chat” he finished, with a nod to Bubba.

As they walked to the new cell, the young man finally found his voice, and out of the many questions thronging his brain the topmost one came out of his mouth. “Were all those guys in for rape?”

“Nope. Murder, every one of ‘em. Bubba killed three men with his bare hands, all in the same night.

They’d raped his little girl, you see.

When he first came here, he swore he’d keep on killing every rapist till the place was empty. But once he’d had some time to think, he decided that killing wasn’t right either, and killing didn’t even the score. He decided that just made the score ‘Inhumanity: 2; Humanity: Zero’. And he wanted to make sure no one else went through what his little girl did. He decided there was a better way to teach people not to commit rape.

Now I’ve brought you to this here cell because I can’t bring a pen into the other cell, due to some things those men used to do with sharps before they turned things around. And I thought you might want some time alone to think, and maybe write some things down. No pressure, you don’t have to write if you don’t want to, and you don’t have to go back to Bubba’s cell. Though honest, you’d be as safe there as you will here alone. You’d be safer there asleep in a bunk with Bubba in the next bunk, than most women are walking down the street with their keys and pepper spray in their hands. You would have been safe, even if I’d given Bubba the pen.

I’ve left you a clean pair of pants on the bunk, by the way. People often need one, after meeting Bubba.”

As he was leaving, Officer Jones turned back to say,

“While you’re in here, I want you to consider one question:

Do you have anything you’d like to add to your original statement?”

© John M. Munzer