The Dangers of National Mythology

If there is one thing that the persistent debate over gun control demonstrates, it is that there is a real danger to collective memory. The icon of the National Rifle Association is not an AK-47, nor, indeed, any kind of gun that would be used today. The weapon that Charlton Heston dares the gun control lobby to pry out of his “cold, dead hands” is a revolutionary musket. For those who argue for an unrestrained right to bear arms, the issue is tangled up with those blinding promises of the Declaration of Independence – the rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The right to bear arms is not a matter of simple policy, as it was in Britain after Dunblane, or in Germany when a disgruntled pupil shot 18 pupils at a school in Erfurt in 2002. For those who shout the loudest, it is a birthright, inseparable from a free press, freedom of religion, or the right to trial by jury.

The Second Amendment is one that is problematic for anyone who wants to untangle the history of the gun in America. It is the only part of the cherished Bill of Rights to have a preamble: “A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the People to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.” In recent years, the two parts of the amendment have been seen as an either-or choice. Either the amendment was intended to provide for the upkeep of a militia, or it was intended to guarantee the freedom of the populace to arm itself.

The necessity of having an armed populace was easily evident in 18th century America. The USA did not occupy almost an entire continent as it does today – it was surrounded by hostile powers (Britain in Canada; France to the West; Spain held Florida), not to mention Indian tribes who frequently attacked American settlers on the frontier. The possession of a gun was often the only way to defend one’s property. Moreover, a militia prevented the necessity of a standing army (which Americans despised), and having militia under the control of states, rather than the federal government meant that any developing emergency could be dealt with by a force raised more or less in the area affected by attack.

For all that the freedom referred to in the Second Amendment is nowadays linked to the right to bear arms, historically it made most sense in the context of a militia. It was only through defence being a duty of the virtuous citizen that republican government could be upheld. If government was to defend itself by hiring mercenaries (whether native or foreign), that meant the ultimate power a government could hold – waging war – was controlled not by the people but an institution. And so, in 18th century America, the right to bear arms was just as much a civic duty as a civil liberty. As Saul Cornell points out in his work, the freedom to brandish a musket occurred at the same time that all able-bodied men were required to train and serve in the militia.

Clearly, then, the historical context in which the Second Amendment makes sense is no longer applicable to the modern day. The defence of the United States is no longer carried out by militiamen – indeed, the modern Minuteman Project that is intended to deter illegal border crossings gives an image of militia as a rag-tag bunch of ideological freelancers. In fact, the militia of the early republic were often well-organised and well-trained fighting forces with strict rules of conduct. Yet the job of being a soldier, particularly with rapid increases in technology, has now been contracted to full-time professionals and the National Guard.

There’s more to write about the developments in the interpretation of the Second Amendment both in legal and political discourse, but what is undoubted is that the vision that permeates both sides of the debate is a perversion of history. The right to bear arms means something different today to what it did when Madison proposed the amendment to Congress, and the several states ratified it.

The promises of the American Revolution have an incredibly strong pull – for Americans and non-Americans alike. Not only are the promises of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness attractive in their own right, but the documents in which the key promises are contained are written so powerfully that they have an almost intoxicating effect on the mind. Yet just because something has been written down does not mean that it represents reality. It is the strength of those promises, their irreducable link in the minds of Americans with freedom, that has the strongest impression on the mind however. The words, the societal norms may have changed their meanings, yet their link with the past cannot be broken. 

It is a trick of the mind that leads to the difficulties faced in the gun control debate today. How can words written plainly on a piece of paper change their meaning? But times change. The danger of not studying the past is that laws can last longer than people – and most especially in a (written) constitutional system. The present is even more fraught with danger when the veneration of a political system is so great that it bceomes almost untouchable – that, by linking something with the Founding Fathers, it becomes ‘good’ in itself, rather than because of any intrinsic merit. Society, laws, people are never frozen in time – they move forward with inevitability. The events of the past do not have that luxury – and that makes it essential that we do our best to understand them, and not allow them to become frozen in the modern mind.

Guns Don’t Kill People, People Do

There’s a number of things that I want to write about regarding the tragic incidents at Virginia Tech on Monday. I don’t have quite enough time to do them full justice at the moment, but I do want to commit to writing a few preliminary thoughts. It didn’t take long at all before the news of the massacre in Blacksburg sparked off a heavily political debate regarding the right to bear arms. It’s only natural that such a debate is re-ignited at a time like this, but at the same time, I can’t help but feel that it’s counter-productive.

The fact, as regrettable as it is, is that someone who is sufficiently determined to cause the sort of carnage seen on Monday will be able to get their hands on some kind of deadly weapon. It’s only those with significant mental health problems who do cause such tragic occurrences. And, unless the world is suddenly going to stop arms production and concrete over its existing weaponry, then these things will occur. Moreover, even if guns were banned, similar atrocities could be caused with all kinds of other weapons – some (like knives) easier to stop; others (like poison gas or bombs) even more potentially deadly and indiscriminate in their effects. Suggesting that gun control would stop these atrocities is a false argument; it might make them harder, but people as disturbed as the Blacksburg killer evidently was will find a way. Moreover, gun control in Britain, tightened further since the Dunblane tragedy, has persecuted those who want to use guns for legitimate recreational purposes whilst doing little to stop their increased use in organised crime. Laws, particularly general laws made in response to particular circumstances, can have unintentional consequences.

The other difficulty in thinking about gun control at a time like this is that it is easy to see our cultural norms as “superior” because tragedies like this seem less common; because the carrying of a gun in America is visible and, in many cases, almost ubiquitous. That doesn’t mean that portraying Americans as backward or wrong for their desire to carry guns is fair; nor does it mean that legislation that makes perfect sense in a largely urban European setting can fit easily upon gun culture in America. Yes, American belief in the freedom of gun ownership is very definitely an exceptionalist part of their character. That doesn’t mean it is per se wrong. Goldie Lookin’ Chain may have been satirical when saying guns don’t kill people, rappers do. But guns don’t kill people on their own – they need someone pulling the trigger.

Saul Cornell, in his superb recent book “A Well Regulated Militia” (which I’ll refer to later in the week, too), writes:

It is unrealistic to imagine a gun-free America. Nor is it realistic to expect Americans simply to accept that inordinately high levels of gun violence are simply the price of freedom. 

As hard as it is to not have a knee-jerk emotional response when you consider the human tragedy that unfolded in the classrooms of Virginia this week, there is a real need to step back from the emotional excesses of the debate. Gun control advocates must be careful not to portray all gun users as evil. The vast majority aren’t. Nor should the gun rights lobby be averse to having to prove a little more about their background, and have a little more regulation on what guns they are allowed to use. After all, just as the desire to use guns is perfectly legitimate, so are anxieties about not being on the receiving end of a stray bullet. The debate needs a little bit of perspective.

I guess it won’t surprise you to learn that I think a bit more thinking historically about the subject would go a long way. But that’s something that will be discussed later in the week here.

Tim Ireland, Guido Fawkes, and the Public Sphere

So… what are the rules?

But this is a fist fight! There are no rules!

Tim Ireland and Guido Fawkes are currently embroiled in a fairly unpleasant flame war that has enlivened large swathes of the British blogosphere. Guido, as you probably already know, has risen to fame on the back of his blog, in which he airs the dirty linen of politicians up and down the country for all to see – whilst simultaneously chickening out of being legally liable for anything he prints by hosting his blog off-shore. His shit-stirring and tittle-tattle has, unsurprisingly perhaps, attracted the attention of the mainstream media. He is thus able to, with some justification, claim to be Britain’s most widely-read blogger.

Tim Ireland, understandably, has serious misgivings about Guido. In particular, he despises Guido’s attitude towards using blogs as a platform for debate. As with most bloggers, Mr Fawkes reserves the right to delete comments he deems unsuitable. Unfortunately, however, as Ireland points out, this includes comments that try and respond to the broader political points made by Guido. If you’re not prepared to make poo jokes or gay jibes, it seems, you’re not welcome. Worse still, according to Ireland, Guido deliberately changes the ordering of comments and inserts his own responses after the event, so that all debates on his blog are skewed towards Guido’s viewpoints.

Up till now, the defining point of the British blogosphere, in opposition to its American counterpart, is that it has focused largely on discussing issues and trying to broaden out media discussion, rather than engaging in muck-raking, slander, and the worst forms of hackery. Tim Worstall, when writing in The Times to promote his anthology of 2005’s blogging, made the comparison between blogs and 18th-century coffee houses – allowing a wider community of the politically interested to form, discuss issues among themselves, and thus widen the range of discussion and possible solutions from those that are normally parroted among opinion-formers.

It’s a model that’s very similar to Jurgen Habermas’s concept of the structural transformation of the public sphere. Habermas saw the democratizing forces of the 18th century – as seen in the American and French Revolutions, and the growth of Parliamentary supremacy in England – as springing out of a newly created “public sphere”. New institutions like the coffeehouses and printing presses that spawned popular newspapers allowed a wider participation in public affairs, allowing affairs of state to be discussed by private (ie non-governmental) persons. A greater scrutiny of public affairs was therefore allowed, and the nature of political affairs was changed forever, heralding a new wave of popular political participation.

So far, so good, you might think. After all, the British blogosphere has managed to develop with remarkably strong sociability, and a surprising infrequency of flame wars. One of the main reasons for this has been the conventions that have developed among British bloggers. Allowing comments on posts – and thus allowing your arguments to be challenged – is virtually de rigueur; trackbacks, too, enable readers to follow arguments that have been taken up by other bloggers elsewhere. The mere fact of the steady proliferation of blogs, and the increasing awareness thereof, demonstrates a widening popular involvement in national political discussion. Never mind that bloggers are largely drawn from a specific stratum of the population – people up and down the country are developing their political thoughts in writing, and engaging with others across the country as they do so. That has to have an effect on politics, right?

Not so fast. A crucial part of Habermas’s theory rested on the public sphere as a remarkably unmediated realm of discussion. The public sphere was successful insofar as it allowed ideas to be judged on their merits, rather than their supporters – the public sphere was a democratic institution freed from early modern hindrances such as deference. This ideal was never seen in reality. Indeed, two decades of work by historians has gone a long way to debunking Habermas’s myths.

The coffeehouses and salons quickly became partisan institutions – Whigs did not mix with Tories; they drank among their own friends. To be taken seriously by either side, you first had to prove your worth as a person, rather than being able to bound in with a wonderful idea that would be readily accepted by all. Even in newspapers, where the use of pseudonyms was widespread (and, so, the depersonalisation of discussion should have been complete), names were chosen largely to tell readers the political background of the author. Nor were all the democratizing influences alike. Discussion in newspapers was filtered through editors; the printed word was considerably different in scope to an argument over a warm cup of tea. Historians have come up with the concept, therefore, of “competing public spheres” – accurate enough, but only if the public sphere is seen as somewhere where debate takes place. The concept of intelligent, rational debate coming to the fore only occurred within small sub-debates; for an idea to be of truly big importance, then you still had to have powerful champions.

And that is, more or less, the situation the blogosphere finds itself in today. For all that Time magazine declared YOU to be the person of the year 2006, the problem the blogosphere has, politically speaking, is that there is no mechanism within it that makes sure it is the top ideas that rise and influence public debate. As much as Tim Ireland may like the idea, not everyone blogs by the same rules. And while ad hominem attacks inform bloggers’ opinions as much as the content of posts, that won’t change. We shouldn’t really think of the ‘blogosphere’, rather several ‘competing blogospheres’ – all of which have their own conventions for debate, their own political biases, and, ultimately, their own audiences. All clamouring for attention, but not trying to shape debate in the same way.

The problem is that blogging isn’t boxing. We haven’t all signed up to the Queensbury rules; there isn’t a smartly bedecked referee ready to step in and give someone a standing 8 count if things aren’t quite going to plan. The beauty and the beast of blogging are tied up in the freedom of the medium. Ireland’s desire for rational discourse through blogs is laudable – and they certainly have a great potential to shape the way that we think about the world and the issues that affect us. But the blog is little more than a medium, and as with all mediums, they are value neutral. Electricity gave us the lightbulb, but it gave us the electric chair, too. The car increases our ability to visit far-flung relatives, but it allows criminals their speedy getaway. Blogs are part of the same theme – it’s what we do with them that counts.

Of course, there’s a lot we can try to ensure that our own blogosphere punches above its weight. There’s much that Ireland recommends that will help make British blogs politically relevant. But even if most of the blogosphere adopts codes of best practice, it’s not going to change the fact that it’s not what is done internally that counts, but how able the blogosphere is to convince the public. And it’s certainly not going to do much to stop the existence of sites like Guido’s. We might want a nice clean fight, but we have to guard ourselves against a punch to the balls.