The genetic and philosphical inevitability of guns

If you want to de-stress and affirm your manhood, throw a punch. If you haven’t yet seen that inestimable movie, ‘The Fight Club’, you’re missing out on a noteworthy piece of modern-day philosophy, and a convincing one-step self-help programme for the emasculated.

For years I wanted a gun of my very own, preferably even a small arsenal with one or two shotguns and a sniper rifle. It was always an item on my Christmas list, though Santa never delivered. I imagined it would lend me the same moral authority as Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood or Arnold Schwarzenneger, but in the latter case, without the muscles. At the very least, Quentin Tarantino might have approved.

Now, writing these words leaves a certain bitter taste in my mouth and a scratchy feeling of self loathing. What was I thinking? I cannot imagine taking a life, and would probably, in some lonely moment of awful guilt, have turned the gun on myself if I had. A life is precious, and unlike a common theft, once taken, it can never be given back.

Violence and mayhem sit well in this endless, need-more, get-more, be-more culture of ours. It’s the fallback position when you really can’t get what you want or need, and when desperation and failure become too much to bear.

In one sense, violence can be self-improvement. Take up arms for your country: it’s a career that’s socially acceptable and manly. If you want to belong, don’t get caught hiding in the toilets when fists start flying in the bar. If you want to de-stress and affirm your manhood, throw a punch. If you haven’t yet seen that inestimable movie, ‘The Fight Club’, you’re missing out on a noteworthy piece of modern-day philosophy, and a convincing one-step self-help programme for the emasculated.

But violence is not only the terrain of the boys. The vitriol of an angry woman is less explosive but no less destructive. Happiness, love and contentment may be emotions and concepts, but they too can bleed and die.

Of course these are generalizations. Women can explode into gaudy moments that leave the room blood-spattered and sticky. Men can carp on until the only way out appears to be an act of self-immolation or some other equally interesting sacrifice. And then there are occasional oddities who take more punches than most, though these are scarcer than hens teeth. Amazingly though, their words and thoughts usually lead to yet more dissension, anger and violence. A quick look at Christian history or the geopolitical divisions that developed out of Ghandi’s non-violent approach will confirm this.

The alternative is equally horrible. Ira Levin’s novel, ‘This Perfect Day’ tells the story of a possible future in which society is engineered to be ‘happy’ by means of liberal infusions of drugs and rigidly enforced behavioural programming. The lead character, Chip, struggles desperately to find a way to circumvent the terrible boredom and meaninglessness of existence. The reader is naturally sympathetic. George Orwell’s ‘1984’ takes an interesting look at some of the possible means to egalitarian ends. Of particular note is the idea of removing certain ‘unacceptable’ concepts from mankind’s vocabulary and creation of a common, yet imaginary, enemy. Of course the altruism takes a beating and violence still looms.

Conflict is with us and of us. It makes us laugh at Road Runner cartoons while still in diapers. It leads our hand to the violent selections of the video store racks. It draws us to romantic stories of ‘violent passion’. We measure our worth by our ability to ascend the slopes of our lofty ambitions and how we overcome all the obstacles that life, or some irritating idiot, place in our paths. And these are the paths that may ultimately lead to guns.

The solution is probably to accept that guns are genetically and philosophically inevitable, and quite as natural as breathing. It’s certainly an argument that will win favour with the National Rifle Association and all self-respecting weapons manufacturers.

However genes have their mutations, philosophers have their critics, and these are categories where I feel comfortable. There is no quick and easy fix for the collective quandary, and the only way to affect the norm is to stand outside of it. Good luck, and keep your head low.