We need to call out politicians who use mental illness as a scapegoat

Addressing the nation in the wake of Wednesday’s Florida school shooting, President Trump told the victims they “are never alone.” He offered to do “whatever we can do to ease your pain,” while committing “to working with local leaders to tackle the difficult issue of mental health.” In a tweet, he had this to say:

So many signs that the Florida shooter was mentally disturbed, even expelled from school for bad and erratic behavior. Neighbors and classmates knew he was a big problem. Must always report such instances to authorities, again and again!

Other “true friends and champion[s]” were quick to add their two cents: Rick Scott called the shooting “pure evil.” Marco Rubio tweeted that the attack “was designed & executed to maximize loss of life,” but said it was too early to discuss gun control. The BBC reports that Rubio told Fox News "You should know the facts of that incident before you run out and prescribe some law that you claim could have prevented it.”

I’m not entirely sure what facts Rubio is waiting on here. We know that the FBI was notified twice that this individual might be planning such an attack, and we know the school was aware of the individual. We also know the shooter attained his AR15 (every gun nut’s favourite toy) legally.

When Mr. Trump asks people to report the “mentally disturbed,” I really don’t understand the logic. All the arguments for gun control are already out there, so it’s not hard to understand why this tweet is complete bullshit. Mr. Trump’s clear misunderstanding of mental health is the most obvious place to begin. Though the “mentally disturbed” argument is the common fallback of Trump, the GOP, and the NRA, few have ever really given an adequate definition for what they mean when referring to a “mentally disturbed” individual.

This is dangerous. Mr. Trump never defines exactly what he means by the terms “mentally disturbed” and “big problem,” and he never defines what he means what he means when he asks (who, exactly?) to “report such instances to authorities.” I guess President Trump is unaware that the FBI was already notified about this particular individual. Twice.

The president’s lack of clarity in this tweet leaves far too much room for individual interpretation. Given the continued prevalence of toxic stereotypes which are can be easily debunked with five minutes on the internet, it is not unreasonable to ask the President of the United States to qualify his statements.

Because right now it seems to me as though the President of the United States is aligning mental illness with white supremacy and mass murder for the express political purpose of backing the private interest group that paid over $17 million to GOP candidates in the 2015-2016 election cycle.

As someone who’s dealt with a lifelong struggle with depression and severe anxiety, I take personal offense to this. As someone who’s struggled with a health care system that can’t seem to provide answers for myself and others close to me, I’m angry that this kind of rhetoric is not being more widely questioned.

For a relative summation of my position here, I’d recommend watching John Oliver’s excellent segment on the subject. Mental illness – a health issue that effects an increasingly vast segment of the western society in a variety of ways – is the favoured scapegoat scape goat of gun lobbyists and the politicians who gladly accept their money. It happened after Las Vegas, and it happened after Orlando: these politicians and lobbyists are contributing a dangerous rhetoric to mental health discussions in order to avoid dealing with the political reality that the right has lost the gun control debate on all rational and intellectual grounds.

In practice, this means that politicians like Trump and Rubio consistently focus on the fact that the attacker can be broadly labelled “mentally ill.” Meanwhile, the systematic factors that contributed to the shooting –the killer’s background in foster care, his ties to white supremacists, the AR15 he was legally allowed to own despite multiple tip-offs to the authorities that he was potentially homicidal – are ignored.

The standard Republican response also allows sweeps politically inconvenient talking points under the rug – like the deleted Instagram account in which the shooter showed off his Make America Great Again swag.

After all, he was disturbed. Why dig deeper?

When mental illness is only just beginning to lose its stigma in the west, it is the responsibility of moral individuals to question the narrative Trump is setting. By consistently aligning the experience of legitimately “sick individual[s]” with the fraction of mentally ill people who turn violent (almost always due to other factors such as, I stress again, white supremacy), Trump and others like him are hijacking a growing awareness over an important issue for political purposes.

To my knowledge, Mr. Trump has not once publically mentioned mental illness outside the context of gun control.

Since this rhetoric has an impact that echoes far beyond the borders of the United States, the responsibility to criticize the precedent set at that country’s highest level also falls outside those borders. That’s why I’m writing this piece. That’s why I’d like to see Prime Minister Trudeau do more than give his “deepest condolences” in between his Team Canada tweets.

In the future, I’d like to see the Prime Minister and other Parliamentarians directly question the toxic narrative that is consistently being spread in our southern neighbours. At the very least, this would be a good time to bring up the issue of Canada’s chronically underfunded mental health system.

One final note. About a year ago, I wrote a post in which I pointed out the value of history in interpreting the new Trump presidency. I asked readers to be vigilant, using an example from the historical moment most clearly comparable to today’s America, 1930s Germany. I attempted emphasize how Hitler utilized public apathy as a key weapon in Germany’s slow move from democracy to dictatorship.

The mentally ill were one of this dictatorship’s first distinct targets, along with Jewish and Romany communities.  

In addition to Nazi Germany, Soviet and post-Soviet Russia, Imperial Japan, and Communist Cuba all explicitly utilized the mentally ill for political purposes, often to delegitimize political opponents. The list goes on. In the west, a time when mental illness was a primary fallback for those who opposed female suffrage remains in living memory. Though as a culture we seem to have forgotten this.

I’m angry. Gun lobbyists and their political allies are using the lived experience of millions – my lived experience – to justify their blatant corruption and inaction. We should all be angry.

Book Review: Between the World and Me

I recently reread this book as part of a travel study done through the University. The theme of the course was "Slavery, Freedom, and Civil Rights," with the goal of understanding the ongoing legacies of racial conflicts. I attempted to synthesize some of my thoughts on Coates' work in an academic review of the book:

Book Review: Coates, Ta-Nehisi. Between the World and Me. New York: Spiegel & Grau, 2015.

In his timely work Between the World and Me, national correspondent for The Atlantic Ta-Nehisi Coates examines a black man’s place in a modern world plagued by a legacy of racial oppression. In light of recent high profile events and modern racial tensions, Coates perfectly captures the struggles faced by African Americans in today’s America. Framing the work as a letter to his son, Coates’ prose has a poetic imperfection that lends to the creation of an aching poignancy. The father’s love for his son lives on the page. The fear he feels for his child’s life, the pain he feels at the loss of so many other children, gives the work an intensely personal appeal. Between the World and Me is a deeply insightful examination of how the legacies of slavery and Jim Crow have resulted in a continued economic, social, and intellectual segregation in modern America. In the book, Coates illustrates with painful clarity the insidious dangers faced by black men and women in the Untied States now more than ever.

One part autobiography and one part a defiant reckoning, Between the World and Me is Coates’ attempt to convey to his son a haunting legacy of violence intrinsically tied to their very identity. Taking inspiration from the works of Richard Wright, James Baldwin, and other African American writers, Coates seeks to succinctly synthesize four hundred years of oppression while capturing a specific modern political moment. His outlook is bleak. His prose is not cluttered by sentimentality, and, unlike many of those who write on similar issues, he does not suggest the inevitability of justice. Between the World and Me is painfully aware that significant progress is neither inevitable nor likely.

Coates attempts to convey this harsh reality to his son, in order that his son might safely navigate a world that resents his existence. Though at many points Coates tends towards poetic abstraction, he centers his letter on a physical theme of the body. The brutal reality that Coates confronts can be seen in this motif. As Coates puts it, amongst all the economic, social, and historical issues, it is the physical, worldly vessel that suffers. Here, we see the titular implication, that the black body and the world around it are entirely separate. In a sense, there is something solidly between Coates and his son, and the world around them; thus, because they are not truly a part of the world, they are inherently endangered by it.

Coates’ bleak but realistic outlook is seen in this theme of physical danger, and illustrated poignantly in his discussions of the issues of domestic discipline and police brutality. For African Americans, both matters are inherently physical problems informed a multitude of factors. These physical problems are illustrated by the high profile killings of black men such as Treyvon Martin and Tamir Rice, to name a few. These deaths, Coates says, are emblematic of the systematic devaluation of the black body, both economically, socially, and, ultimately, physically. Simply put, it is less costly for a police officer to accidentally kill a black man than a white man because the world values one body over the other. This suggestion is the lynchpin of what Coates tragically conveys to his son. He wishes his son to understand this reality, so that he may best protect himself in the wider world. Indeed, Coates suggests that this is all that African American parents can do in a hostile world: prepare their children for how best to deal with that hostility. As Ta-Nehisi Coates painfully illustrates, the black mother beats her child so the child knows how not to be beaten by the police. Such brutal illustrations abound in the book.

Framing the work as a letter to his son is, perhaps, the most effective literary choice made by Coates. This gives the reader a sense of Coates’ personal investment that might otherwise have been missed. The theme of childrearing and parental love is a widely accessible one, and provides the author a method of reaching those outside of his frame of experience. This stylistic choice is one way Coates attempts to reach an audience outside of the African American community. Indeed, it is one way in which he attempts to bridge the gap to which the work’s title refers, between himself and the world.

However, the intensity of Coates’ investment should give the reader pause. It is important to acknowledge that, as poignant and effective as the work is, it is ultimately a conveyance of Coates’ own opinions. These opinions are, of course, coloured by the biographical details that Coates mentions. As such, the book cannot necessarily be read as an introduction to the study of race relations. Coates is not a neutral voice, and his own biases seep into how he addresses these issues. Once this fact is understood, however, Coates’ biases ultimately work towards the book’s purpose. Between the World and Me is an attempt to capture a unique perspective. To understand that perspective, one must understand the historical and social connotations it entails. In order to appreciate the work fully, the reader must be at least somewhat familiar with the subject of race relations. If the reader is well informed, Coates’ biases matter little, as he does not try to hide them. Ultimately, Between the World and Me is an attempt to illustrate the experience of a specific segment of the American population and convey that experience to an audience largely incapable of understanding it.

It Can Happen Again

On February 27^th, 1933, the seat of the German government, the Reichstag Building, was set alight by a young Dutch communist. For the previous few years, tension between the German government and communist groups had steadily been rising. Many feared the country was on the verge of an uprising similar to the one that had happened in Russia two decades earlier. Indeed, much of the world feared communism in this time, just as it feared an international Jewish conspiracy. These two groups were the spectres that haunted the nightmares of the average European and North American.

The arson of the Reichstag Building gave the newly inaugurated German Chancellor, Adolph Hitler, the rhetorical space to purge the government of dissenting elements. Just over a month later, in response to the arson, the Enabling Act of 1933 was passed. This Act gave Hitler the power to suspend German civil liberties and act without oversight from the government’s legislative arm; the resulting creation and legitimization of the SS and SA paramilitary forces turned Germany into a police state with one man at its head. The funneling of powers into the executive branch gave the Nazis the ability to remilitarize the country and begin implementing the final solution. All this was, ostensibly, done in the name of combatting terrorism.

In Hitler, the German people had seen someone who didn’t play by the book, someone who would bring a breath of fresh air to broken system. The world was in the midst of the Great Depression. Germany’s economy was suffering and its people suffered with it. The country had been forced to pay humiliating reparations for an old war. Germany had become a shadow of what it once was. Hitler knew this, and used it to his advantage.

Hitler himself was a political maverick, a former soldier who rose to power on a wave of public discontent. His entry into public life came in the form of the now famous beer hall speeches. In them, he would provide improvised and impassioned tirades on the failures of the Weimar government. This passive but vocal commentary eventually moved into his running for office. Despite the vague nature of his policies, Hitler’s charisma combined with an engagement in popular frustrations to carry him to the chancellorship.  

When implementing his authoritarian policies, Hitler did not begin by sending Jews, homosexuals, and other minorities to the gas chambers. He consolidated power slowly and methodically, tapping into existing prejudices and fears. He worked methodically, using his charisma and half-facts to desensitize people. He promised, at every step, that his measures would only be temporary, in order to protect Germans and make their country great again.

The circumstance we face today is not the same as the 1930s. Our world is not that of 1930s Europe. The idea that history repeats itself is misplaced. History does not repeat itself, yet there are patterns, circumstances that mirror those that came before. In this manner, history can teach us.

The burning of the Reichstag Building was crucial to the rise of Nazi Germany and the establishment of Hitler as a dictator. Without the arson, or another such public event, Hitler would not have been able to transform a relatively functional democracy into an autocracy. Germany would not have been remilitarized and many atrocities of the Second World War would have been somewhat mitigated, if not entirely avoided.

Someone told me recently that nothing like the Holocaust or the other atrocities of the Second World War could happen in the modern world. People are too well informed. Safeguards are in place to stop such totalitarianism. Any actions being taken that might seem similar to those of the 1930s are limited in scope and necessary for our safety and security. We are wiser than our predecessors.

I’m sure that Germans in the 1930s believed the same thing about themselves. By telling ourselves it cannot happen, we breed the atmosphere in which oppression thrives.

Ask yourself: how would the western world react if an event like the Reichstag Fire were to happen today? How would we react if a bomb were to go off on Capitol Hill tomorrow?

It can happen again.

If we are not vigilant, it will happen.