Dear Congress: If Mental illness Causes Mass Shootings, Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

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It’s easy to blame mental illness, but we fail to mention that treatment works and recovery is possible for many.

For mothers of teenagers like me, news about a school shooting never gets any easier. We experience the same dread, the same despair, the same fear that someone will attack our children’s school. In between mass shootings, we drill our children on what they would do. We check on their social media accounts. We try to pretend that there’s some sense of safety in a world that always seems full of random, unpredictable violence.

I’m the mom CNN used to call whenever there was a school shooting. And today, one day after 17 children who are the same age as mine did not come home from school because of another mass shooting, I’m angry. Predictably, politicians have tweeted meaningless “thoughts and prayers.” Also predictably, some Republicans have tried to shift the blame for the latest massacre to the isolated actions of a “mentally disturbed individual.”  

After the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting five years ago, I shared my story of parenting a child with violent behavioral symptoms of a then-undiagnosed mental illness in a viral essay entitled “I Am Adam Lanza’s Mother.” In that essay, I wrote, “It’s easy to talk about guns. But it’s time to talk about mental illness.” 

Now, I’m concerned that we are having the same blame and shame conversation without any meaningful action, as this viral Facebook post shows.  

Today, with the correct diagnosis (bipolar disorder) and treatment that works, my son Eric lives in recovery. In 2016, he even gave a TEDx Boise talk about his experiences.  Eric is a normal high school senior who, like many of the Parkland, Florida students, is planning for college next fall.

Today, I feel that blaming mental illness for an epidemic of violence in the wake of so many mass shootings has become a meaningless trope. If politicians and the National Rifle Association really believe that mental illness causes mass shootings, it’s time to put their money where their mouth is. Here are a few suggestions:

1.       Provide funding for research into treatments and cures, perhaps by donating the millions of dollars that the National Rifle Association gives to their campaigns.  

2.       Continue to support parity for mental and physical health, currently required by the ACA but already under threat in my own state.  

3.       Stop blaming children and their parents for the appalling lack of community mental health services and supports.  

4.       Understand that when treated, people who have mental illness are no more likely to be violent than anyone else. Treatment works and recovery is possible.  

5.       Adopt reasonable and bipartisan gun control measures that focus on suicide prevention, since more than 60% of deaths by gun violence in the U.S. are completed suicides, a tragedy that disproportionately affects the brave men and women who serve in our military.  

Most people can agree that universal background checks and allowing the government to track gun violence statistics (currently prohibited by federal law) are good first steps to better understanding and controlling our nation's clear gun problem.

To be transparent, I live in Idaho, a gun-loving state. I grew up in a family that hunted, and my brothers taught shooting sports at Boy Scout camp. I have enjoyed shooting sports in the past. While I do not personally have guns in my home because of my son’s illness, I know many responsible gun owners, some of whom live in recovery. 

Yes, it’s true: people who have mental illness can be responsible gun owners, which is why mental health advocacy organizations including the National Alliance on Mental Illness believe that “Federal and state gun reporting laws should be based on these identified traits, not mental illness.”   

People who are in treatment for mental illness and are compliant with treatment should not be treated any differently than anyone else. To focus on mental illness as the sole cause of mass shootings is a clear example of the pervasive discrimination and fear in our society. In fact, while it’s true that at least one-third of mass shooters seem to have had an untreated mental illness, a more common predictor of this kind of violence is a history of animal abuse or domestic violence, as is the case with the Florida shooter. Both of these deplorable behaviors are actual crimes, and both of them should require immediate intervention including loss of gun rights.

But mental illness is not—and should not be—a crime.

It’s time to act.  Build the community mental health treatment centers. Fund research into cures. And most importantly, stop blaming by association the millions of good people who live in recovery for the violent actions of a few.

What Freedom Means to Me

When I think of freedom, an equal and just society is a
big part of America’s promise. Photo taken by author at
Boise Veteran's Day Parade, November 4, 2017

Defending freedom is a calling for all Americans.

On the first Saturday morning in November, I woke up early to attend the annual Boise Veteran’s Day parade. My friend and mentor, Vietnam War veteran Ken Rodgers, was one of four grand marshals. His award-winning documentary film Bravo: Common Men, Uncommon Valor, tells the rough story of the siege of Khe Sanh from the perspective of the American survivors. Ken was one of them, a bona fide American hero. 

Veteran’s Day is an annual opportunity for me to reflect on the legacy of military service my father, my grandfather, and so many other brave men and women left to our country. Like Ken, my father fought in Vietnam; I wrote about what it means to grow up as the daughter of a United States Marine here. 

Growing up as the daughter of a United States Marine means I cry pretty much any time I see the Stars and Stripes. It means I always stand (and always cry) for the national anthem. 

And it means I unequivocally and passionately support the free speech rights of those who don’t stand for the anthem because they are protesting unjust treatment. (Prediction: History will remember Colin Kaepernick as an American hero and President Donald Trump as an American traitor).

The next day, on Sunday morning, I woke up early and drove across town to the Boise Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. Reverend Sara LaWall’s sermon focused on the urgent need to create “thick” communities where people are encouraged to be their best selves. The sermon was based on a popular David Brooks essay, “How to Leave a Mark on People.”  I am reading Brooks’s 2015 book The Road to Character now, as an antidote to the daily assault of unprincipled characters who dominate our screens and our Twitter feeds, the Predator in Chief first among them.

While I was at church in Boise, in a tiny Texas town outside of San Antonio, a congregation was massacred at the close of their Sunday services. Children were among the victims. The usual “thoughts and prayers” tweets from politicians ensued, but people on my social media feeds seem to have given up on reasonable discussions about guns—instead, we shrug and say, “This is just the price we pay to live free (and die free) in America today.” 

Maybe Newtown took it out of us. Or Santa Barbara. Or Roseburg. Or Orlando, Or Charleston. Or Tennessee. Or Las Vegas (was that nightmare just three weeks ago?).

After church, my husband and I trudged cheerfully through the November rain to deliver campaign literature for Boise’s first Latina candidate for city council. Lisa Sanchez is the embodiment of the American Dream, and she wants to share that promise with everyone in our community. Raised by a single mother who worked multiple jobs to support their family, Sanchez was the first in her family to graduate from college. She is committed to living wages, ending homelessness, and “bringing everyone to the table.” 

When I think of freedom, an equal and just society is a big part of America’s promise. This is exactly what our brave veterans fought to protect and preserve—an America that rewards everyone who is willing (and able) to work hard, and an America that understands the need for empathy, compassion, and community for those who are in need. 

I don’t see that America reflected in my news feed. Instead, I see fear, hatred, and corruption—and I don’t think these all too common stories are #fakenews. As a student of the Classics, I see a republic in crisis. Our democracy needs all of our boots on the ground—now—if we are going to prevail against the forces that threaten to destroy us. We have to get educated, and we have to vote. 

But we also have to return our individual focus to building Brooks’s thick communities. One of my favorite parts of church is when we turn and greet our neighbors. I also love the power of holding hands with each other and affirming our faith. These powerful rituals can extend to our communities. 

When people inevitably annoy us, what if we could think, “peace be with you” instead of shouting “f%$k you?” On social media, when someone posts something we disagree with, what if we could look for common ground first? 

I’ve made a point of engaging with people who hold views that are different from mine because a) I don’t know everything; and b) even when we disagree about some things, I am often surprised by how much we actually agree on. I have certainly found this to be true in mental health advocacy. Often, when advocates move beyond the false dichotomy of either/or to the more inclusive community of both/and, we find unexpected moments of insight and connection. Every single person in America—Republican, Democrat, or Independent—should be actively looking for ways to connect with people who disagree with us, "for Heaven and the future's sakes."

By the way, I don’t think that thick communities have to depend on existing church communities. In fact, many of the most moral and principled people I have ever met have eschewed formal religion (It’s true! Atheists are ethicists! See “Good Minus God” for an example).

But we need to find brave new ways to practice both group compassion and civic discourse. This challenge requires us to move out of our comfortable but meaningless echo chambers. For example, people may agree more than they think they do on the need for a social safety net. But when Republicans cast Democrats as nanny state enablers, and Democrats respond by calling Republicans cold-hearted Scrooges, children go hungry and working families suffer. In fact, most of the Democrats and Republicans I know actually want to help those in need and are committed to finding solutions. The difference, as I see it, is that Democrats tend to look to state-run solutions while Republicans prefer private ones. 

How do we return to the promise of America? Today, defending freedom is a calling for us all. It starts with educated voters and qualified candidates. It starts with holding our elected leaders accountable, even when it seems like so many of them have checked their consciences at some far distant door (perhaps in Moscow?). It starts with civic discourse, the sincere wish of “peace be with you” to everyone, not just people who affiliate with our political party.

And it starts with positive ideas for real growth and community. I see that kind of energy in the Boise City Council election. I do not see this positive energy in either the Democratic or Republican national parties. 

Our country was founded on principles of individual liberty. But only by returning to a common identity by finding agreement on what it means to be American—will we see our way to Katherine Lee Bates’s beautiful future, with “liberty and justice for all.” 

Oh, beautiful for patriot dream  

That sees beyond the years

Thine alabaster cities gleam, 

Undimmed by human tears!

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee, 

And crown thy good with brotherhood 

From sea to shining sea.

Yeah, that one makes me cry too. Now go vote, y’all!