James Alan Fox
June 18, 2015
Last night's deadly massacre at a
historic black church in Charleston, S.C., has sent shockwaves far and wide with
citizens of all races asking incredulously: If one can't be safe in a house of
worship, then where? Is there no place in America that is sacred?
Although
the specific location has made this, the latest in a string of high profile
shooting sprees, especially stinging, the setting most likely has more to do
with race than religion. Dylann Storm Roof, the 21-year-old white man who
allegedly killed nine African-Americans and left one person unharmed to serve as
witness, waited patiently to deliver his violent message. According to the
survivor, the gunman remarked that black Americans were "taking over our
country."
As with many others who commit massacres, it is not a matter of
psychotic thinking and a sudden eruption of rage at victims chosen randomly, but
a deliberate, methodical design to exact revenge on a class of people whom the
shooter sees as responsible for his own disappointments. By all appearances so
far, this was a deliberate, retaliatory act at least in part born out of the
recent climate of diminished good will in race relations around the country.
While authorities have opened a hate crime investigation, the massacre can also
be interpreted as an act of terrorism by the classic definition of the term.
Crimes like these are not so much intended to punish the particular victims, but
to send a strong message to "their kind" generally.
From the point of view of
the perpetrator, such hate crimes are defensive. That is, he feels that his
advantaged position in society has been eroded by the members of another group
and must be protected. His warped objective, therefore, is to rid the world of
evil by eliminating the enemy — in this case, black Americans.
It is
likely that the location of the Charleston massacre was selected not to be
blasphemous, but in the knowledge that the black victims would be easy targets.
They'd be unarmed, defenseless, with little room to escape.
This is hardly
the first church in America stained by large-scale bloodshed. In 2012, six were
killed at a Sikh temple in Oak Creek, Wisc., and seven were murdered during a
teen prayer rally at a Baptist Church in Fort. Worth, Texas.
In 2008, two
people were killed and several others wounded by a 58-year-old man who was
gunning for liberals and Democrats at a political rally at a church in
Knoxville, Tenn. Despite the location, the crime had nothing to do with
religion.
Churches are sometimes selected by dispirited gunmen simply as
places where certain kinds of people are known to congregate and would be
convenient proxies for retribution. This is also why schools are sometimes
chosen as mass murder sites, as in the 1989 Stockton shooting of Southeast-Asian
elementary school children and theMontreal massacre of women studying
engineering at the hands of a feminist-hating malcontent. And, of course, the
victims of the 2012 Sandy Hook school shooting were slaughtered only because of
their association with the place where the gunman had been bullied many years
earlier.
In an often repeated urban legend, bank robber Willie Sutton, when
asked why he targeted banks, remarked that that is where the money is. In a
similar way, mass murderers who are looking for a specific kind of people to
harm target churches and schools to perpetrate their hateful acts of terror.
James Alan Fox, a member of USA TODAY's Board of Contributors, and Jack
Levinare professors at Northeastern University and co-authors of Extreme
killing: Understanding serial and mass murder.