Perhaps it is because the Earth spins that we humans are susceptible to a centrifugal force that pulls us apart. Perhaps it is the physics of our nature that nudges us to distinguish ourselves from each other, rather than to realize that we are all one.
How else can we explain the universal self-destructive tendencies that have pocked world history, with tragic chapters of conquest, genocide, war, bigotry, slavery, racism, homophobia and economic injustice?
How else can we explain a worldwide culture that celebrates excesses of the rich while ignoring the misery of the poor, whom we exploit in the name of imperialism and profit – and whom we excoriate for rebelling against oppression.
There is no way to fully understand the carnage of the past few weeks: Orlando (50 dead), Dallas, St. Paul and Baton Rouge. Nor, is there an easy way to explain why 512 people have been shot and killed by police in 2016, as of this writing, even if we assume each shooting was justifiable.
And still vivid in our minds are mass killings since 2012 – Newtown (27), San Bernardino (14), Fort Hood (13) and Aurora (12). But what can be stated with certainty is that ours is a violent nation, not only because of the people who have died violent deaths, but because of the psychological violence we unwittingly perpetrate on each other, giving rise to alienation and feelings of helplessness.
So much is said about American exceptionalism. Yet we alone, among the richest countries in the world, are not willing to provide medical care to everyone. That is violence. The richest country in the world has “ended welfare” in a way that forces our lowest paid workers to periodically live on as little as $2 a day, per family member. That is violence.
The richest country in the world condemns the few who sell their food stamps in order to get cash to pay their heating bills, but hold harmless the employers who pay so little that their employees must rely on government subsidies (such as earned income tax credits) while corporations enjoy tax advantages and other government incentives, according to a study conducted by the Berkeley University Center for Labor Research and Education – a study which has received almost no coverage in the media. That is violence.
The richest country in the world insists that everyone should have an entrepreneurial spirit and work hard, but fails to provide meaningful employment opportunities and fails to protect the rights of workers to be represented by unions. That is violence. And the list goes on.
At every post-atrocity memorial service I have attended, the participants found comfort in our “coming together” and sharing. I am certain that the emotions expressed were genuine and real, but I am saddened that the “togetherness” quickly dissipated, not because the individuals lacked resolve, but because the healing we experienced was internal and personal.
We mourned and engaged in cathartic exercises, designed to assuage our grief over what had transpired. But we were not offered a path to follow in order to avert future horrors. And the “togetherness” we felt had little chance of survival, let alone growth, in the centrifuge of our reality.
We are a society that favors real and metaphorical walled communities that shield us from having to interact with “Them.” We want charter schools because our children are better and brighter and need to go to top-tier universities to be winners in the hyper-competitiveness of our alleged meritocracy – and not have to deal with “Them.”
Insisting that all schools be improved and fully funded might require tax reforms that would compel us to sacrifice to help pay for “Them.” Where is the sense of “togetherness”?
Religious communities (and I am a person of faith) too often present God as a giant anti-depressant who will bring us a sense of inner peace and tranquility.
I believe, however, that our faith in God should bring us a sense of righteous anger and a thirst for justice that can be quenched only through the non-violent power of a loving concern for every human being.
And I believe that when human beings ask us for justice, we become empowered to answer their prayers. How we vote, what we do, how we think and what we value are how we can either allow the violence to continue, or be the means through which we can find justice.
Evil and injustice can triumph only when the victims are somehow perceived as being less than human. Let me avoid labels and say inwardly at each encounter “Hello, you precious human being.”
Jim Palermo of Southampton is a regular Gazette contributor.