The new American ultraviolence

The new American ultraviolence: A country in distress

This past April was a particularly violent month in America. On Friday, April 3, gunman Jiverly A. Wong killed 13 people at the American Civic Association in Binghamton, New York. He shot himself before law enforcement could take him into custody. The next day, Saturday, April 4, three Pittsburgh police officers (Eric Kelly, 41, Stephen Mayhle, 29, and Paul Sciullo III, 37.) were slain during a standoff with Richard Poplawski, a man who had allegedly been stockpiling weapons in fear that the Obama Administration intended to disarm him. And on Monday, April 6, a Washington state man, James Harrison, killed his five children, then himself, after finding out his wife was leaving him for another man. What’s so disturbing about this series of tragic events, besides the senseless loss of so many lives, is how society can so quickly and easily unravel into chaos—and what that says about the nation’s collective mental state.

Jiverly A. Wong's rampage left 13 people dead.

What initially got me thinking about these tragedies, and the extreme violence perpetrated in each incident, was how desensitized I’ve become. The morning of the Binghamton shootings, I learned of the tragedy when I logged into my Facebook account. A friend of mine who had grown up in Binghamton posted a link to the developing news story. Seeing his concern for the people in his hometown caused me to stop for a moment (stop and think as opposed to burning through the morning news, scouring for useful information and leads as I often do). Real people were being killed, gunned down by someone from their own community, someone they had helped educate (the reason Wong had been attending classes at the ACA was to improve his English). It’s not that I am naive and wouldn’t have come to this conclusion if I read about it in say, the New York Times, but seeing it framed in the context of a former resident of Binghamton forced me to personalize it in a new light. What was even more surreal is that the very next day, this same type of ultraviolence erupted in my hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when Richard Poplawski shot and killed three police officers in a standoff at his mother’s home in the Highland Park neighborhood of the city.

Richard Poplawski shot and killed three Pittsburgh police officers this past April.

The Poplawski shootings dominated local news coverage in Pittsburgh for an entire month. It was impossible to turn on the television or read a local newspaper without talk of it. But then, after the funerals for the slain officers, talk of the tragedy disappeared. What’s interesting is the way people deal with these tragedies. We’ve all become so accustomed to this type of violence that the incidents become identified in one- or two-word sound bytes: Columbine, Virginia Tech, Waco, Oklahoma City, etc. Now the words Binghamton and Poplawski can be added to the list, and they will. But that list is so long and fraught with sorrow that the individual stories get lost.

Alex (Malcolm MacDowell) as the cinematic manifestation of Burgess' ultra-violence.

Author Anthony Burgess coined the phrase ‘ultra-violent’ in his 1962 novel, A Clockwork Orange, which, if you’ve read the book or seen the Stanley Kubrick film adaptation, you know that Burgess’ dystopian vision of a semi-futuristic London seems frighteningly similar to not only modern America, but the modern world at large. However, where Burgess’ book sought to provide commentary on extreme violence using a creative format (e.g. literature), the brutality we see in everyday life lacks the transcendental qualities of good art. The reasoning, or lack of reasoning, behind the actions of Wong, Poplawski, and Harrison reveal the type of madness swirling beneath the surface of our society. But our reaction to such madness, or maybe just the media’s reaction, reveals our inadequacies in handling extraordinary situations.

In his public statement following the Binghamton tragedy, New York Governor David Paterson called the shooting “the worst tragedy and senseless crime in the history of the city.” But by the next day news reports were already attempting to button-up the incident with talk of ‘healing’ as this ABC News lede indicates:

“As the community of Binghamton, N.Y., begins to heal from the shooting rampage that left 14 people dead at an immigrant services center…” (via ABC)

Law enforcement officials position themselves behind a vehicle during the shooting at the American Civic Association in Binghamton, New York.

This story was written the day after the shootings took place and shows not only an insensitivity to what emotional healing actually entails, but also displays journalistic impatience. How can a community, and more importantly, the families of those 13 people who were killed ‘[begin] to heal’ less than 24 hours later? The myth of instant ‘healing’ and ‘closure’ pedaled by shit-grinning news anchors and ambulance-chasing reporters defies logic. Think about your own experiences in life. For example, the last time a family member or friend died, did you, the next day, chant to yourself: “I am healing. I am beginning to heal.” Odds are, you didn’t. And if you did, you’re probably an asshole. Realistically, you sob at the funeral of loved ones; hug your family members and keep saying how much you miss the deceased; or express your regrets for the time you didn’t spend together. And guess what? That’s normal. When people die, we get sad. Sometimes we are even devastated for long periods of time.

However, today, we have even less patience and shorter attention spans for the tragedies unfolding around us. This new ultraviolence has desensitized us all in ways we don’t even realize or understand. It’s made me almost long for the days of Columbine, when we binged and purged on news coverage for weeks instead of days. At least then it felt like we all collectively cared for a moment. And back then it seemed we at least feigned compassion and empathy. Today those basic human emotions feel long gone.