Greg Gibson: Stop The Gun.
Our
son Galen was killed in a school shooting in 1992. In the aftermath of
shootings like the ones that have taken place recently in Texas and Ohio, and
then in Texas again, friends still send emails and texts. They can imagine the
pain such incidents evoke, and they want us to know that they’re thinking about
us.
As
much as we appreciate these expressions of love and support, and as important
as they’ve been to our survival, they’re somewhat off the mark by now. Mass
shootings no longer re-awaken the trauma and pain that accompanied Galen’s
senseless murder. The fact is, my family doesn’t follow the reports of these
incidents very closely. My wife and daughter spend time with friends on social
media. My son and I are addicted to what sportswriter Dan Shaughnessy once
referred to as Moron Sports Talk Radio. A survival tactic, no doubt.
When
I do turn my attention to reports of mass shootings, I’ve begun to notice a
formulaic aspect to way this news is delivered. Reports are likely to feature
the 911 call, squad cars and SWAT teams responding, smartphone footage recorded
during seconds or minutes of mortal terror, traumatized survivors weeping and
hugging, and ambulances wheeling away. The perpetrator, of course, is of
interest. Sometimes we even get a mug shot of the crazed young man. We
desperately need to know, and we will never know, Why did he do it? If we could
figure that out, we think, we might be able to prevent the next one from
happening. So we read on. Mass shootings account for only about 2% of gun
deaths each year, and yet they suck up a far greater percentage of our
attention.
Without
our even being aware of it, we’ve entered into a sort of symbiotic relationship
with the phenomenon of mass shootings. The news media commodify reports of
these horrific events as “content” and we unwittingly consume this
content along with the rest of the news. Not because we need more data in our
tireless quest to end gun violence, but because these reports feed our news
habit.
We
know that mass shootings have become creepy memes that morph and evolve on the
basis of information gathered from prior shootings. Yet we continue to make
that information available – in mind-boggling abundance – to the next wave of
racists and madmen. I understand that there is not a conscious conspiracy
between the news media and the forces of evil. But I do believe the time has
come to take a hard look at the role the media play in this problem.
It’s
clear by now that cultural change will be an important factor in reducing gun
violence. It’s equally clear that, as much as reporters rely on cultural
activity to create content, the content they create helps shape the culture
upon which they report.
Why
do we not hear more about the destructive effects of gun violence – 100 deaths
each day – on families and communities, particularly among people of color?
Where is the reporting on the devastation that trails in the wake of suicide
with firearms by teens, vets, and law enforcement officers – which has risen by
30% since 2013? Why do we not hear more about the link between ownership of
firearms and domestic violence?
In
my experience, people who are affected on a daily basis by gun violence –
people of color who live in specific, socially isolated areas in almost any big
city – hardly ever ask why? They’re more interested in how. Ruth Rollins, one
of the founding members of Boston’s Operation LIPSTICK told me that when
someone is killed in her neighborhood the first thing people want to know is
where the gun came from? How did it get into the shooter’s hands? She said,
“If you stop that gun you stop a shooting.”
We
need to dispense with the 911 tapes, the second-by-second descriptions of the
carnage, the postmortem psychological profiling, and the gnashing of teeth over
warning signs disregarded.
Let’s
talk instead about what kind of gun did what kind of damage. We need solid
reporting on how the shooter got his hands on the weapons he used, and where
they came from. It’s as true in your town as it is on the streets of Roxbury,
Massachusetts or El Paso, Texas.
You
stop that gun and you stop a shooting.
