By J. J. McCullough
Tuesday, April 24, 2018
Media coverage of yesterday’s monstrous van attack in
Toronto, which as of this writing is responsible for ten deaths and more than a
dozen other casualties, was punctuated by political press conferences of the
sort that are now an inescapable part of the dark theater of public tragedies.
At his first appearance before the microphones, Mayor John Tory took the
opportunity to declare that “these are not the kinds of things that we expect
to happen in this city,” adding that “we hope they don’t happen anywhere in the
world but we especially don’t expect
them to happen in Toronto.” He was later joined by Ontario premier Kathleen
Wynne, who stated matter-of-factly that pedestrians being slaughtered en masse
by homicidal lunatics “is not emblematic of who we are as a city or a
province.”
Well, the tourism board can rest easy then, I suppose.
Hearing this surprised, defensive pleading, which will no doubt increase
regardless of whether the apprehended perpetrator of Monday’s attack winds up
being a terrorist, a lone wolf, a lone nut, or whatever else, I was reminded of
the aftermath of Canada’s last incident of mass public violence, the 2017
massacre of six men at a Quebec City mosque during prayers. That, too, Canada’s
political class insisted, should not be taken to reflect poorly on the country.
“It feels as though it doesn’t belong in Canada,” as Green Party leader
Elizabeth May put it, shaking her head in parliament. Before that, it was
2014’s botched mass shooting on Parliament Hill by a self-radicalized ISIS sympathizer
that was supposed to shock all good Canadians by being so brazenly
out-of-character. And a few months before that, it was the assassination of
three RCMP officers by an anti-government fanatic in Moncton, New Brunswick.
And before that . . .
Many assume that violence, especially violence of the
most sensational kind, obeys some kind of political logic. Progressives of the
sort who dominate Canada’s governing establishment and news media seem to hold
tightly the idea that mass, senseless killings are the type of thing that
happens only in countries less perfect than their own, where worse social
policy and a less wholesome patriotism spawns inevitable consequences.
Proponents of this line of thinking learn to come up with tidy cause-and-effect
theories that attribute blame to whatever monstrous variable they think their
nation has skillfully avoided — guns, racism, imperialistic foreign policy —
though this can often descend into embarrassing nonsense when stated openly.
Here in Vancouver, I recall one of our former mayors blaming an uptick in
gangland shootings on the “Americanization” of Canadian culture. When he first
heard news of the Boston Marathon bombing, Justin Trudeau infamously speculated
that whoever did it was surely “someone who feels completely excluded” from
America’s mainstream.
The point is not to argue it’s impossible to diagnose
“root causes” for certain styles of violence — to quote another thing Trudeau
implored we do with Boston — nor that targeted laws can play no role in quelling
them. Crimes have motives and social conditions can help foster them. The
reason France doesn’t have Sri Lanka’s problem with Tamil separatists is
obviously a byproduct of distinct political realities. There’s no shortage of
politicians willing to vehemently insist that gun bans reduce shootings.
Framing public violence as a sort of righteous social punishment, however, or
forming an identity around a supposed talent at avoiding it, is a pride doomed
to collapse in trauma the first time a killer doesn’t follow the script.
The evidence, easily gathered from all countries and
cultures, suggests there is a certain degree of mass violence destined to
strike, unprovoked, in any community of large enough size simply due to the
tragic diversity of the human condition. There is an inclination, even
attraction, of certain badly wired brains to treat other human beings as meaningless
objects to destroy, and the sheer law of numbers suggests every nation,
eventually, will wind up on their receiving end.
In the United States, which houses more human minds than
all but two nations, there’s a growing, guilty numbness to public violence that
citizens often struggle to properly process. Social media’s demands for
performative empathy and politics coexist with lectures from number-crunchers
about how the statistics don’t justify the sensationalism. There are constant
demands to “do something,” but also a growing resignation that certain acts of
homicidal psychopathy are simply too nihilistically random, cunning, and
creative to ever be fully eliminated from the free society America aspires to
be.
In nations like Canada, however, where it’s important to
the national psyche to consider monstrous public violence a distinctly
“American” thing, the limited capacity of ideology, culture, or public policy
to explain the senseless is a lesson not yet learned. “It could never happen to
us” is a logic that can help rationalize the terror of others, but it quickly
turns into unflattering, chauvinistic shock once it’s discovered that no nation
on earth has yet invented immunity to evil.
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