By Noah
Rothman
Wednesday,
March 29, 2023
The trauma
of mass gun violence — at least in places where mass gun violence has not
become a terrible
feature of daily life —
is compounded today by the perfunctory
ritual through
which the arbiters of American discourse drag the rest of the country.
There are
the reflexive calls for stricter gun-control laws without any understanding of
whether those proposals would have had
any effect on
the course of the events that inspired them (and sometimes in the face of
evidence that
they would have no
effect). There’s
the mockery of the
religiously observant from great
institutional heights.
And there’s the effort to tether, however tenuously, the shooter to Republican
rhetoric or
a right-wing
aesthetic.
At
least, that’s the routine when the shooter fits a demographic profile with
which we’ve become woefully familiar: white and male. But recent episodes of
mass violence perpetrated by shooters who do not fit the part has compelled
cultural observers and the press to innovate new ways of talking about mass
violence. These new methods rob the victims of these attacks of their sacrifice
and transfer their victimization onto their killers.
Commentary
around Monday’s horrific mass shooting at a Christian elementary school in
Nashville, Tenn., followed a familiar trajectory right until the perpetrator
was revealed to be a biological woman who identified as a man. This
priors-scrambling detail sent media outlets off on the frenzied pursuit of something
that would justify the preconception that those who assume a trans identity are
never victimizers, only victims.
First, there
was the mad dash to
indict Nashville
police for failing to use the pronouns preferred by the person who shot and
killed three teachers and three nine-year-old students. That was followed by an
attempt from media outlets
and politicians to
allege — the lack of substantive evidence to back them up notwithstanding —
that the shooter
had been incited in some way by local legislation restricting “adult cabaret performances” in
the presence of children and the provision of hormone-blocking therapies to
minors. The application of a moment’s reasoning to the suggestion that any of
this explains, much less justifies, the murder of children must have proven
unsatisfying, because the press soon moved on to crafting a narrative of
victimization for the deceased killer.
The
humiliation and rejection that serve as the shooter’s supposed origin story
stretch back into early childhood. “Twenty years later, after being rejected by
her Christian family when she came out to them as gay,” the Daily Mail’s report on the shooter’s
psychological trauma concluded, the shooter “had turned into a killer.” The
tragedy of mass murder is, in fact, “not one tragedy but two,” according to a
statement release by the Trans
Resistance Network.
The killer “felt he had no other effective way to be seen other than to lash
out by taking the life of others.”
NBC News
reporters Matt
Lavietes and Jo Yurcaba alleged that the killer’s victims tangentially include
Tennessee’s trans community, who could now expect to face increased
discrimination. That extraordinary claim rests on the existence of a
provocative hashtag on Twitter and the media outlets that accurately reported
on the shooter’s identity and actions within the same sentence. “We were
already fearing for our lives,” acting president of Tri-Cities Transgender,
Aislinn Bailey, told NBC’s reporters. “Now, it’s even worse.” The actual
victims of violence in this case were replaced by the hypothetical victims of
conjectural violence — the less disorienting sort that fits within a familiar
rubric.
The
pattern we’ve been forced to witness this week has been in development for some
time, because the perpetrators of mass violence increasingly fail to meet the
expectations set for them in the mainstream press.
The
Chinese citizen who shot and killed seven of his colleagues in Half Moon Bay,
Calif., last year
experienced “mounting frustrations with his job conditions and simmering
tensions” at the farm where he worked, according to local media outlets. The
“final straw” was thought to be an “insult” about his “diminutive” size. That
trauma was reportedly exacerbated by the ghastly conditions endured by
America’s agricultural workers.
“Viewed
the crime scenes today in Half Moon Bay,” San Mateo County supervisor Ray Mueller reported. “Deplorable,
heartbreaking living conditions. As I said on the campaign trail, we must raise
the quality of life of farm workers, NOW.” California governor Gavin Newsom
agreed. “California is investigating the farms involved in the Half Moon Bay
shooting to ensure workers are treated fairly and with the compassion they
deserve,” Newsom said. The killer’s victims were soon displaced by local farm
workers and their activist allies, who demanded “better pay” and higher
standards of living.
A
similar pattern emerged when a 72-year-old Asian man shot and killed ten people
at a dance studio in Monterey Park, Calif., earlier this year. “With the
significant amount of anti-Asian hate, there’s been this feeling of a lack of
safety and being under threat,” the founder of Stop AAPI Hate told The
Guardian in
the wake of the Monterey Park killer’s murder spree. “It really perpetuates
this fear that they are not safe,” a local community organizer agreed, citing
the rise of anti-Asian
hate in
America since the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic. “We need more acknowledgment
on how important it is to address this lack of support for immigrant, refugee
and monolingual populations, and we need more resources.”
Once
again, the actual victims of violence were generalized, transformed into
abstract avatars of the demographic to which they belong. The “jealousy” arising from a domestic dispute
that served as the shooter’s motive, according to the dance studio’s owner, had
become irrelevant. The “specter of
anti-Asian hate”
and the “tragic saga in Asian-American history” took center stage. After all,
the AAPI-centric outlet The Yappie warned, just because “the gunman has been
identified as an Asian person doesn’t exclude the possibility of hate,
misogyny, or ethnic discrimination as a motive.”
Even the
last time America had to witness a terrible act of mass violence in a school,
the shooter’s identity confused observers to the point that they felt compelled
to humanize him. “When I see photos of” the gunman who murdered 19 children and
two teachers in Uvalde, Texas, “I also see Latinos I know,” LA Times columnist Gustavo
Arellano mourned.
He agonized over the “merciless ridicule” the shooter “suffered,” seeing
himself in the killer and his experience with the cultural milieu in which
young “Latino males” incubate.
The
Uvalde killer’s act “certainly feels like another kind of performance of young
masculinity,” psychiatrist Jonathan Metzl told the Washington
Post in an
article that transformed the killer into a theoretical construct. In cases like
his, “We are talking about boys who have been emasculated over a period of
time,” criminal-justice professor Eric Madfis added. “They were bullied, or
ignored, or didn’t have the dating life or popularity they wanted.”
In all
the above cases, something approaching sympathy pervades the analysis of these
heinous actions in the left-wing press. Mass shooters are motivated in part by
the notoriety
their predecessors attain through violence, which renders these contortions shockingly
derelict. The impulse to reduce these disturbed individuals to categories and
to force their actions to comport with a preferred ideological framework serves
no purpose other than to preserve a fragile worldview. But it is not a
harmless exercise.
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