A few weeks ago, after the mass shooting that took almost fifty lives, I wrote a piece called “Orlando and the problem of politicization.” In it, I argued that when people use the heat of the moment of a tragedy to pursue a political agenda, we are removed from what ought to be our natural human reactions: grief, solidarity, confusion, maybe anger.
“The shooting in Orlando brings all kinds of policy implications to the forefront. We can do better, and we should do better. But part of being better is being observant, first.”
We observed. We cried. My beautiful hometown city of Orlando came together. Thousands lined up to donate blood. Some hospitals recently decided not to seek payment from victims of the shooting. Watching my city rally together reminded me why I am proud to be from Orlando.
But that was all in the days after. It’s now been over two and a half months since what we now consider to be the largest mass shooting in U.S. history, and it seems like we’ve already forgotten. We did what we do—we moved on.
And this isn’t the first time. In 2012, our country was shaken by the killing of 26 students and six adults at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Also in 2012, 12 were killed and 70 injured in a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. In 2007, 32 people were killed at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia. The list goes on, and on, and on.
This year alone has seen 9,728 deaths and 20,308 injuries. Among them have been 449 children and 2,092 teenagers. Of these gun-related incidents, 261 have been classified as mass shootings. This is a daily reality in every state, in every city.
While those who were not directly impacted by the shooting are able to move on, some don’t have this “luxury;” some people can’t just move on. I’m talking about the parents of the victims. The friends who never ran into their friends again. The people who were at the scene and survived. They don’t have the luxury that the observers did; the Orlando shooting, like other similar tragedies, is a daily reality for many. And we cannot forget that.
What happened to calls for reform? What happened to the public debate surrounding gun control? A quick glance at Google’s data shows that public interest in the gun control debate dropped significantly after spiking for a few days back in June. Similar trends followed many of the shootings; the spikes and subsequent drops are enough to tell the heartbreaking story of our collective short memory.
In light of this reality, we ought to take the next step towards action. We can’t just mourn something, forget, move on, and ignore the future. There are real, tangible steps forward. Though there is plenty of space for reasonable disagreement within this complicated debate, there are some clear problems that public policy could most definitely address.
Right now, 40 percent of gun sales are not bound by a legally required background check. Loopholes like the gun show loophole make obtaining weapons far too easy. Online gun sellers aren’t held to high enough standards; as many as 62 percent in New York agreed to sell a gun even after being informed the buyer would probably fail a background check.
And there is plenty of support for measures to combat this problem; at least 70 percent of Americans consistently say that they favor universal background checks. One major poll even found that 87 percent of Republicans are on board with this measure. So what’s the problem?
Answering the “why” within the stalemate of gun control gets very sticky very fast, but a few things are clear. There are some very, very strong interest groups (the NRA, for instance) that wield incredibly strong political capital to prevent movement on the issue. Plenty of Political Action Committees (PACs) donate thousands to candidates that fight against reasonable gun control.
These are strong barriers, but they can be overcome by stronger movements, grassroots efforts, and unwavering public consciousness of the problem. We can do better, and we must do better. And that brings us back to the original point: in order to form these strong movements that demand change, we must remember.
I still strongly believe that the first stage of responding to a tragedy involves maintaining our humanity. But I believe just as strongly that the second step is taking action—and that means one thing: we can’t just forget.
We must take action, and we must remember. We must challenge ourselves to have stronger memories as a society—for ourselves, for the sake of those who hurt today and for the sake of those who could be hurt in the future. We must remember.
David Wohlever Sánchez is a Trinity sophomore. His column, “simple complexity,” runs on alternate Wednesdays.
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