Illegitimacy and Violence

I've written this before, but these are the two questions I have in the debate over violent political rhetoric:

A) Is the large quantity of extreme rhetoric dangerous?
B) Is there more of it coming from the right?

I return to them because they still do not seem to have been answered very well.  Yet some clarity is needed in sorting out just where violent rhetoric comes from.  We know that it has historically been responsible for violence, and so we must think seriously about what is being said.

I'm not sure we can be certain about the first question. But it seems perfectly reasonable to assume so, especially considering the acts of violence we have seen that were specifically political, the worst of course being the Oklahoma City bombing.

I think we can be very certain about the second question. While extreme or violent rhetoric can also be found on the left, it doesn't exist in anywhere near the volume it does on the right. I think the main reason for this is that the violent language always seems to come from a sense of deep mistrust of an institution's legitimacy. In the 60's this was the government for the left. For eco-terrorists, this would be logging companies. For animal rights groups, research labs. But for the most part, the left has become quite centrist, favoring a strong balance of government and free markets.

The right however, is still in many forms preaching the illegitimacy of the government. Very high-profile figures on the right have expressed this view in clear language. It is no wonder then, that the instances of obviously violent rhetoric were based on this assumption, that our very existence as a nation is imperiled by an oppressive, illegitimate government.

There are many drivers of this view. And every paranoid conspiracy promoted on the right has been rooted in the question of legitimacy: FEMA camps, birthers, socialism, death panels, federal reserve, NAFTA highway, gun confiscation. These are all part of a narrative that the government is somehow on the verge of radical transformation, an imminent threat to our most basic liberties. Even without the crazy conspiracies, a modest form of this narrative is driving at least a majority of the current conservative movement.

So when people point to specific statements and argue over whether it was or was not a "call for violence", I think they are missing the larger point. An ecosystem which views the government not just as wrong yet functioning democratically, but wrong and functioning undemocratically, is defining that government as illegitimate. This is the definition of tyranny. And, as many on the right have pointed out, extra-governmental problems require extra-governmental solutions.

This is actually a popular debate happening on the right right now. At what point are we justified in violent revolt against an illegitimate government? It is a question that our founders obviously grappled with, and the tea party is a literal reflection of that sentiment. Whether you agree or not, the right is very concerned that we are reaching that point. Thus the talk of 2nd amendment rights/remedies, secession, and the "shredding of the constitution".

The left is simply not there. We were, decades ago. But not today. The reason you don't hear the same kind of rhetoric on the left is that there is no narrative for it, like there is on the right. Is the rhetoric dangerous? I think so. I think it comes from the exact place that the Oklahoma City bombing came from, along with countless militia groups and weapon stock-pilers. Most of this is just lazy thinking. And I'm not so worried that there will be any kind of armed revolt. But it is a climate in which weirdos can thrive. If serious thinkers are calling the government illegitimate, then it stands to reason that unserious thinkers are going to take the next step and blow up a building.

Runaway Bunnies

I wasn't planning on writing about it.  At least not yet.

But one of my students was killed in a drive-by shooting a couple of nights ago.  She was standing in the street with her boyfriend, the father, when they pulled up and shot her in the head.  The baby was shot in the leg but survived, along with a number of others who were shot, including the father.  It was gang-related, and according to students, many of whom know or are related to involved parties, apparently retributive violence is in the works.

Sadly, it wasn't such a novel thing to them, for many of whom violence is a regular occurrence.  I work at a continuation school, and so the population is filled with students from poor, broken homes.  Most of the stories I'll never hear.  But from what I glean from classroom conversation, life is filled with drugs, sex and fighting, and law enforcement is never far off.

One of the biggest problems in teaching them is their abysmal rate of attendance.  In a class of 30, one day only 7 might decide to show up, and 23 the next.  Only a handful of students can be counted on to attend with any kind of regularity.  The school structure provides for this sort of problem; it has to.  A zero-tolerance policy would throw them all out onto the streets.  And for many, if not most, our school is a last-chance.

So we work with them.  It's a fine balance between keeping standards reasonably high and giving them work they have a chance of completing.  Many students have already almost given up, having fallen 2-3 years behind in credits.  Simply showing up is all they can often manage.  I sometimes find myself in dark admiration of their ability to spend hour after hour, day after day doing absolutely nothing in class.  But I suppose they've been in training for years.  Depression and stubborn, nihilistic rebellion is widespread.

They work independently for the most part.  Because of attendance and the constant ebb and flow of drop-ins and drop-outs, teaching a contiguous course isn't possible.  So each student has a list of assignments they must complete in order to pass the section and receive credits.  My job is to facilitate all of this, providing them the best education I can in such a flexible and inconsistent environment.  Much of my job ends up being mentor/counselor/motivational coach.  "Why," I'll ask amid a conversation between one student and another, "do you think it is OK to get drunk when you wake up in the morning?"  Or maybe I'll suggest a better way of resolving some particular conflict than physical assault.  In between helping them with individual questions, trying to engage them in some video or another, or explaining my expectations for a project, I try to create a safe, friendly atmosphere that inspires them with some small manner of joy and inspiration.

A recent email from the principle informed the teacher that administrators would be making the rounds next week, and visiting individual classrooms.  Explicit notice was given that we should be sure and have our "agendas and language objectives posted".

I don't discount the importance of either.  But considering the gravity of the situation in which we teach, in which our students live, these seem somewhat demeaning to the institution of education.  It strikes me as emblematic of the currently en vogue emphasis on the business-like nature of education, complete with endless talk of "data", myopic adherence to schemes of protocol, and the treatment children as widgets on a balance sheet.  A scripted calculation of whether this or that chart is posted on the wall seems entirely superfluous to the real needs of the students at the school.

These are students in crisis.  We have two counselors who, bless their hearts, do an amazing job of helping the students with their problems.  But there is only so much time in the day, and the practical nature of their job is that many students simply need to get schedules attended to, errors corrected, or plans for the future inventoried.  I look out into the eyes of my students and see tired, sad, bored and broken faces.  The practical nature of my job is that I can't be mentor or counselor to them all - certainly not in the individualized and attentive manner they deserve.  To use an analogy, I feel at times as though my job is like that of an old, rusty bottom rung of a ladder.  The students have slipped to the bottom and they can hold on with all their might or they can drop.  I can be there when they need me, but I can't catch them. 

And with every student that walks out the door to never return, another new tattooed, pierced and emotionally bruised young student walks in.  One of my current students was shot in the head.  But someone else's former student pulled the trigger.  If we had an extra $50K a year to hire a full-time psychological counselor would we be able to quantify the results?  Would our test scores improve?  Would drive-bys decrease?  Would the percentage of students smoking dope decrease?

If someone collected the data and did a study what would they find?  That we were simply throwing money at the problem?  I'd like to think that we wouldn't be.  When I'd take out my pad and write a hall-pass to a student who needed someone to talk to, maybe I'd be able to be more than just an old rung on a ladder.  In that moment maybe I would be a net, reaching out to catch them before they slip away.

At least for a little while longer.