Okay, maybe it isn’t fair to blame the Tucson shootings on Sarah Palin’s cross-hairs map. Or the weapons-and-combat imagery in the campaign ads of Jesse Kelly, who tried to unseat Gabrielle Giffords in last year’s Congressional election.
Don’t get me wrong. I deplore the hateful rhetoric, the name-calling, the demonizing of anyone who sees things differently, that dominates our politics today. We could all stand to tone it down. But I’m not sure it would have made a difference in this case.
In the past week, we’ve learned a few things about Jared Loughner, who is accused of firing the shots that turned a citizen participation event to a bloodbath. I’m getting a picture of a young man who is seriously unbalanced, and has been for some time. It’s pointless to argue about what someone said that might have pushed him over the edge.
But it may be helpful to talk about how we deal with mental illness in America, and how we can do better.
Harry Shearer brought it up last week on Huffington Post: “.... we're being told that toxic political rhetoric is dangerous, because of its possible effect on the less rational, more mentally unhinged folks among us. So, maybe it's time to ask this question: Why are they among us?”
His column rings true; it jibes with what I’ve heard and seen. Mental health care is not easy to get. For families who pay their own bills, it tends to be a luxury that only the rich can afford. For those who rely on insurance or public assistance, resources are limited. Sometimes a patient gets just enough care to scratch the surface of a problem, with little or no follow-up.
I don’t mean to suggest that everyone with a mental illness is a potential mass murderer. To quote the New York Times, “a vast majority are no more likely to commit harm than anyone else.”
True. That doesn't meant they don't need help. Living with mental illness is no picnic -- for patients, for the families and friends who struggle to help them cope. Society misses out on what those people might contribute if they are made whole again, or at least semi-functional.
And the rare, spectacular violent cases serve notice that any of us, while going about our daily business, can wind up paying the ultimate price for our the cracks in our mental health system. I don’t have to think very hard to come up with examples:
October 1991, Killeen, Texas: George Jo Hennard drove a pickup through a plate-glass window into a Luby’s cafeteria, than strolled through the dining room picking out people to shoot. He killed 24, including himself.
April 2007, Virginia Tech: English major Cho Seung-Hui went on a Monday morning rampage, killing 32 teachers and fellow students before committing suicide.
Before these massacres, and the one in Tucson last weekend, the perpetrator gave clear signals that he was not okay. But we weren’t able to use that information to head off a tragedy.
I don’t mention Charles Whitman, the University of Texas Tower sniper, who brought us the worst campus shooting in history before Virginia Tech. He was definitely not in his right mind, but I’m not sure he gave many warning signs, or that anyone could have read them. At the time, nobody had done anything quite like that.
I also don’t mention Timothy McVey, who blew up the federal building in Oklahoma; or last year’s shooting rampage at Fort Hood. I believe those mass murders really were driven by politics or ideology.
But this guy in Tucson? He may have been just a garden-variety nut.
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