Years ago, my daughter Samantha and I were
home in the afternoon (she was off school, second grade, and I was home with
her) when there was a loud knock on the front door. When I answered, I
discovered that there were about a hundred cops, including SWAT (tactical truck
and all) at my door and in my front yard. They did not look very happy.
"Yes? Can I help you?" I asked, as I got about a
hundred hard stares from our new guests.
"Daddy, how many cops are out there?" Sam asked.
"All of them, I think..."
"Sir, there was a bank robbery, and we think the robber is
hiding in your backyard," said a highly impatient and well armed young man
at my door. "Could you open your backyard gate?" Well, I
wasn't going to miss this, so I grabbed the key, and, with many cops
accompanying me, we opened up the gate. Then I was shooed back into the
house and told to stay down.
So I went back in the house and got Sam and my nice Ruger 9mm, and
we sat down on the floor of the kitchen, because that's the place with the most
walls between us and the outside world, which could be filled with bullets and
anger at any moment.
While waiting, she asked me: "Daddy, what if the robber gets
in our house?"
"Well, he would have to get past all those cops, and they all
have guns, huh?"
"Yeah." She smiled for a moment but then got
serious again.
"What if he gets past the cops somehow?"
"Well, he would have to get past the bars on the windows,
huh?"
"What if he breaks the bars and gets in the house?"
"Well honey, what do you think will happen then?"
"You'll shoot him!"
"That's right." And then a peaceful smile came
across her face, and we waited for the all-clear sign. Turns out the
miscreant was not in our yard after all, but I was proud of the aggressiveness
and professionalism of the local LEOs. I hope they got the guy.
The whole experience got me thinking.
We Americans grew up in a culture formed by the assumptions of the
Gandhian sort of pacifism. We almost always feel guilty and somewhat
tawdry when we consider using violence to solve problems because, after all,
all violence is morally equal, right? And if we didn't believe that, and
I certainly didn't, we at least knew that on some level, we had been
"reduced to the level" of the robber by our willingness to use violence.
Worst of all, we had inflicted our wicked world on an innocent child, who now
knew that her dad was capable of picking up a gun and killing someone.
Could she ever trust me again? Is it not frightening to learn that your
dad has the potential to be a killer?
So I watched her closely, and in fact, I noticed that she trusted
me more, and even had more affection for me after doing that than before.
Wait – weren't we taught that violence, or even the threat of
violence, traumatizes children? That seeing Dad with a gun means that Dad
might shoot someone with it?
Now, I am a lifelong shooter and a teacher of other lifelong
shooters, and I am the last guy in the world to buy into all the "all
violence is morally equal" rubbish, but I still found myself feeling as
though it was true on some level. I would bet that many of you, in my
shoes, would feel the same emotions. It's how we were raised.
But Sam taught me the truth. Gandhi was wrong. Dead
wrong. No, all violence is not morally equal, and as
gun guru Massad Ayoob says, "righteous countervailing violence" is
indeed the act of a moral person.
Sam wasn't traumatized; she was safe. She knew that we
adults would stand up and fight the bad guy, and she would be safe. This,
my friends, is how the world was supposed to work – before that great brown
flood of nonsense and lies taught to all of us since the 1960s washed over our
nation.
Some violence is righteous.
Ask your kid. Ask him: If bad guys came into our house,
would they prefer that Dad had a gun and fought them or hid under the bed,
hoping the cops come in time? Actually, don't ask. You already know
the answer, don't you? Your kid wants you to make her safe. That's
what being a dad means. It's what being a mom means. Face it.
Accept it. Raise up your inner warrior, and make your family safe.
It's what we're here for.
Oh, and Sam has since become a very safe gun-handler and a pretty
darn good shot herself. She will be able to make her own house safe
someday.
