The Language of Tragedy
Where do we draw the line?
By Natalie Kelly
The Progressive Teen Staff Writer
Following the Sutherland Springs shooting, we must yet again discuss one of the most contentious political battles: guns in America. But before we begin to assess the series of oversights that led to such a disaster, we must first define that disaster. The burning question lingers: was Sutherland Springs an act of terrorism? It would be easy to jump into (doomed) legislative solutions and (misplaced) blame. If we want to have a chance of restricting access to military-grade technology, we need to start from a common premise. What, exactly, do we want to avoid?
Whenever an attack occurs, we must bring up gun legislation. Currently, the rhetoric of gun control centers around common sense policies. It is common sense not to let those on the terrorist watch list own guns. It is common sense not to let the severely mentally ill own guns. It is not to let the dangerous, convicted criminals own guns. But the reasoning behind a mass shooting is not common sense, or even sensical. Maybe it’s time to move beyond the obvious and towards the delicate conversations it seems neither side wants to have. Each headline provides new depths we must explore if we want to mitigate violence.
The general consensus is that Sutherland Springs was not an act of terror, as it was missing key elements that would classify it as such. Georgetown’s Bruce Hoffman explained that although the attack “cause[d] terror and generate[d] profound fear and anxiety”, it was not officially terrorism, which is typically connected to a known political organization. Within a few hours of the attack, far-right blogger Mike Cernovich dubbed the attack an “Antifa terrorist attack”, which was quickly disproven. Of course, it is unwise to judge an attack before at least investigating the facts. It’s especially unwise to trust an “American nationalist” who “use[s] trolling tactics to build [his] brand”, but to each his own.
Sutherland Springs offers a unique perspective on violence in this country. While the world has seen a surge in politically-inspired fury, Texas was unfortunately subjected to the brutality of a singular, dangerous man. It seems the motivation was based on Kelley’s domestic problems. He had a long history of domestic abuse, a clear warning sign of future troubles. None of these facts point to a conspiracy or elaborate plan, but rather the threatening psyche of a man with a gun.
When dealing with the catastrophe, we have to be careful in how we explain it. We cannot just begin labelling attacks as terrorism in the same way our country cannot casually mention genocide. The US Code of Federal Regulations defines terrorism as, “the unlawful use of force and violence against persons or property to intimidate or coerce a government, the civilian population, or any segment thereof, in furtherance of political or social objectives.” By this definition, Kelley’s actions are certainly not terrorism. He committed a crime, that’s certain, but he did not attempt to change the mindsets of his victims. Neither did he push a certain political objective. Although a small distinction, describing an attack as terrorism has severe legal repercussions, opening up international discussion and making trials lengthy. It seems the best course of action is to describe Sutherland Springs as a mass shooting.
We are so familiar with the prose of terrorism. Most Americans can eloquently describe the very real threat that we face daily — in the workplace, at church, or even walking down the street. We know the common theories like “lone wolf” or “home-grown terror”, the buzzwords used to incite a debate over how best to stop the needless loss of life. We often have ideas about who commits acts of terror, mostly racially inspired, that need to be challenged and qualified. Almost monthly alerts contain the relevant details of the latest terror attack. Although gut-wrenching and tragic, terrorist attacks have become easier to discuss. We go through the motions of sorrow and blame and, inevitably, an insensitive tweet and continue on to the next feature.
But Sutherland Springs was not that scripted story. The first few hours, it was anyone’s guess. But as evidence was revealed, we found that key differences in Kelley’s motives set him apart from the usual tragedy. How do we respond to something so horrifyingly familiar, yet so different?
This gray area is frightening. If we can’t label and explain an attack, how are we able to prevent another? The answer is, we aren’t. Multiple factors often play into the mind of a perpetrator. Robin Lakoff, a linguist at UC Berkeley, argues that although people believe, “if we could only pin down precisely whether something is an act of terrorism or a hate crime, or just a simple crime or a war, in other cases, we would have a handle on it, we would know what to do”, there are still layers to complex societal issues that can’t be solved with a definition.
But there is some validity to our drive for knowledge. If both sides can agree how to classify the rationale behind tragedies, we might have more of a chance of preventing the next attack.
