On Fighting Fire With Bigger Fires: or, Burn the Forest Down

Hey,
This is relevant to the current political climate of the U.S.A., so read carefully and read well.

A close friend and I entered an extremely interesting conversation on the UCSB shooter a few days after the event, in which we and several other interested people were discussing the sociological implications of the shooter, his motivations, and the labels attached to him.  The next day, a not-entirely-metaphorical mob chased us out.  So, I’d like to talk about what I saw happen, and why, almost two years later, I am still upset, worried, and damned angry about it.

Upon entering a heretofore civil sociological conversation, my friend suggested that the issue might be more complex than had previously been implied; namely, that it served as a warning of a broken mental health system as well as a misogynic act.  He proceeded to give a very personal and, to my mind, entirely valid argument for including this second line of thought in the discussion.  The originators of the post replied to this "distraction from misogyny" by insulting, denigrating, and accusing him of an extensive list of crimes, including misogyny and rape-enabling, with a level of viciousness that I found more appropriate to right-wing talk radio than a collection of UChicago students.  The rebuke may be accurately summarized as “Why are you using his ASD as an excuse?  Why are you trying to distract from the misogynistic nature of this crime?  How can you support him just because he had ASD?”—things, I might add, that he was not trying to do.  And when I stepped in to defend him from these accusations, which were in no way proportional to what he had in fact said, I found the fire hose of scorn, ridicule, and disdain turned upon myself as well.

What, you might ask, was our crime?

Well, as far as I can tell our crimes were twofold.  First, by suggesting that the situation might not be encapsulated by a single issue, we brought up the--apparently unthinkable--idea that radical feminism might not be the answer to everything.  Apparently, if society were perfectly equal (which I in no way claim it is!), all crime would vanish and everyone would be healthy and happy and...do I really need to continue this?

Our second crime was being straight, white, and male.  From that, it was determined that our perspective simply didn’t matter enough to bother reading—that our viewpoints were so fundamentally flawed and stereotypical that they weren’t worth the effort of understanding.

And that, my friends, is what made me so damned angry--and, I suspect, makes many otherwise undecided men (and women) angry as well.

Let’s step through what happened from my perspective.  Since, for my friend and I, mental illness is a rather important issue, we made the point that, had the Santa Barbara shooter obtained proper care for his ASD and depression, he might not have committed his crimes.  To obtain proper care would require that the problem be identified early, that professional and effective treatment be readily available, that his parents and he be willing to obtain that treatment, that he and his parents discuss the problem and its potential dangers, and that he feel safe sharing his thoughts and problems with friends and professionals.  We can argue about the how and when and where, but I’d say these are basic requirements.

In the United States today, this very seldom occurs.  Mental health remains fundamentally misunderstood by many, in no small part due to the fact that it has long been treated as a character flaw--"weakness", "cowardice", or "dangerous"--rather than a genuine disease.  Those suffering from depression are repeatedly told to “snap out of it” or “try to be happier” despite evidence that such advice is at best useless and most often harmful.  Those suffering from OCD may be told that their beliefs are ridiculous—something they know full well, but that doesn’t make it any easier.  Those suffering from ASD are repeatedly taunted, taken advantage of, or otherwise bullied for their social awkwardness.  The suicidal are routinely shunned or described as “weak” when discussing their problems.  Hell, even the discussion surrounding the shooter showed this tendency.  Within hours, it was reported that he had ASD and depression, with the implication that it was disorder’s fault—and, thus, that people who suffer from schizophrenia, depression, or otherwise mentally disordered are inherently dangerous.  This, despite the fact that the mentally ill are 25 times more likely to be victims of violence than its perpetrators.  Attitudes like this—the culture of mental illness as a stigma, as a failing of character—are one reason why nearly half of Americans with severe mental illness do not seek treatment.  True, it’s not the only reason, but it is a reason; my uncle refuses to admit his problems because of this stigma.

The ongoing discussion made no mention of these, despite the fact that at least three readers suffer from mental illness, and almost certainly more.  It came at the problem purely from the male privilege and misogyny standpoints—worthy standpoints, mind, and large contributors, but not the only ones.  So we (or, more accurately, my friend) observed that proper treatment and a fundamental reworking of attitudes towards mental health could have prevented the shooter from being so completely trapped in a parallel universe.

The response was a point-blank accusation that my friend was apologizing for the shooter, that he was using his mental illness as an excuse, and that he was perpetrating—indeed, actively supporting—the mysogynistic attitudes outlined in the shooter’s manifesto.  Packaged in there was an implication that my friend was just as bad, if not worse, than Mr. Santa Barbara Sports Car Gunner.  The sheer vindictiveness of it reminded me of Dick Cheney or Rush Limbaugh at their worst—all the worse because the claims were so ludicrously outsized that, under different circumstances, it would have been laughable.  The only parallels I’ve seen are accounts of “counterrevolutionary” interrogations in Maoist China or Stalinist Russia.

At this point, I felt obligated to step in.  This friend of mine was a close one, so I knew that such accusations hit him hard; it was worth letting him know that he wasn’t alone.  So I replied, saying that although misogyny and rape culture and sexism are all elements of the motivation and crime, mental illness is also an element; that injecting that element into the conversation was not intended to reduce the purview of sexism, misogyny, and rape culture, but to add an important and missing nuance to the discussion; and that the accusations levelled against my friend showed the tolerance of Stalinist Russia and the circularity of Catch-22 (although, of course, I put it more tactfully than that).

The response (only slightly paraphrased): “Fuck off, I don’t want to read the words of a misogynist apologizer.  So I didn’t, I already know what it says.”

Now, at this point it was fairly clear that critical thinking was not a strong suit of these persons, but I did feel the need to point out that the person in question clearly had no idea what I wrote, since (s)he hadn’t actually bothered to read more than three words of it.

When I made this point, I was told, in as many words, to “check my privilege.”

Well.  If by “check your privilege,” you mean, “give women, minorities, and the LGBTQ community an equal voice and listen to what they have to say”—gladly.  If by “check your privilege,” you mean, “In conversation with someone unlike yourself, give them an equal voice, allow them to make their point, think about what they are saying, attempt to consider the situation from their perspective, and consider their viewpoints as valid as your own”—if one cannot do that, one is not having a conversation.

But, if by “check your privilege,” you mean “I already know what you’re going to say because you’re upper-class, straight, white, and male,” I can only say: no, you do not.  If, by “check your privilege,” you mean “Since you are a straight white upper-class man, shut up,” I can only say that that is injustice, just as much as someone saying “Since you are black, or poor, or gay, or a woman, shut up.”

The members that thread got what they wanted.  My friend and I left the conversation, with no intention to return.  But, by driving us out, they also destroyed any chance that we will engage them again.  And by doing that, they made their lives easier in the short term and harder in the long term, because we—my friend and I—are less likely to learn now.  We are less likely to have the sort of difficult, strenuous conversation that leads to real thought and insight.

Because we are angry.

Because we are afraid.

We are now afraid that entering such a conversation will lead to insult, ridicule, and slander.  We are afraid that we will be condemned on the basis of our birth, our childhoods, our families.  We are afraid that to step out of line, to even suggest flaws in the existing doctrine, will lead to public humiliation and ridicule.  So, like most rational creatures who avoid pain, we avoid the bait for fear of a trap.

So.

Who won?