Devin Kelley, the man who killed over two dozen people in a Texas church recently, is another example of how mass shooters often commit crimes of domestic violence first. According to the New York Times in an article published on November 6th, 2017:
“In 2012, while stationed at Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico, Mr. Kelley was charged with assault, according to Air Force records, which said he had repeatedly struck, kicked and choked his first wife beginning just months into their marriage, and hit his stepson’s head with what the Air Force described as “a force likely to produce death or grievous bodily harm.”
In Ethical Culture & Humanism, and other traditions such as Buddhism, sometimes the moral teachings include the idea that compassion should be extended to everyone, without exception. Even those who commit terrible acts of violence.
This is of course compatible with taking steps to prevent or punish violent acts. We might imprison such people (almost always men), or even have to kill them in self-defense or in the defense of others. But, according to these teachings, this must always be done with some sense of regret, never with a vengeful satisfaction, and with a willingness to believe that there was a great potential for good that was tragically lost, or perverted to evil.
I must admit that I have a great deal of difficulty feeling any compassion for Devin Kelley, but I think that there are times when some men, especially those who may have been traumatized and hardened by war or other military experiences, experience a profound loneliness, and sense of desperation. As though they are on one side of an abyss, and all of humanity is on the other. I think it may be difficult sometimes for women to understand the depth of this kind of emotional isolation.
This sense of desperation can develop into a rage which, coupled with a self-image that identifies male efficacy and self-esteem with violence, has suicidal and murderous results. The easy availability of guns in the United States doesn’t help matters, obviously.
I wonder what others think about whether compassion should be extended to absolutely everyone.
I also wonder about how, instead of blaming men collectively, our culture could better channel the powerful emotions men feel, to prevent perversions to antisocial, homicidal and suicidal behavior.
The best I can do in trying to develop compassion for men like Devin Kelly is to imagine that, in a culture that affirms masculinity in positive ways rather than in harmful ways, if not denigrating it altogether, he might have been able to see himself as someone who could connect with other people, without feeling that he is losing an essential sense of individual identity and independence that men must have.
He might have been a great guy, a good buddy and a real man.
Chris Kaman says
Comment on James Coley’s blog post about compassion for mass shooters.
11/15/2017
Good question, James. I have been thinking about the question, and how I can contribute to a discussion of it. I have two points to make; the first is more academic, and the other is personal.
1) The definition of compassion seems important to this question. Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary defines compassion as “sympathetic consciousness of others’ distress with a desire to alleviate it.” I won’t bother to examine if that is a truly accepted definition of compassion. So this definition leaves another word needing definition and that word is “sympathy.” The same dictionary yields 4 definitions for sympathy. The first definition which I think dictionaries try to make the most commonly used states “an affinity, association, or relationship between persons or things wherein whatever affects one similarly affects the other.” The second definition mentions “inclination to think and feel alike,” and the third definition mentions “sharing the feelings or interests of another.” So based on this I can not feel compassion for these mass murders, serial killers, and the like. I have no wish to feel what they feel, and think what they think.
I have heard the concept of sympathy contrasted with that of empathy. Back to the same dictionary, empathy is defined as “the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner.” So according to this it is possible to be empathetic without being sympathetic, although I may not be able to “vicariously experience the feelings, thoughts, and experience” of a serial killer.
This highlights my desire to attempt to understand why a mass killer and the like do what they do. I do not believe “evil people” exist. I do believe that there are people who present a danger to those around them and sometime themselves as well. They should be incarcerated, and treatment or mitigation of their condition should be attempted without endangering the general public.
The Netflix series “Mindhunter” is a great story of the development of the behavioral unit of the FBI back in the late 1970s. The agents in the unit interview, and seek to understand the behavior of serial killers. The benefit would be detection and prevention of the general public from such people. Yes, most serial killers are men, but exclusively. The psychological and emotional toll on the FBI agents begins to be felt, and so it shows the difficulty of having compassion, and perhaps even empathy with them.
The second half of the definition of compassion is something I recommend we express toward mass killers, and the like. If we can understand what causes their behavior, then we may be able to prevent it through early detection and intervention in schools, and community mental health centers. Alleviating the suffering of those who commit these crimes, assuming that it is based in suffering and not pure pleasure, is a laudable goal I think. As a side note, they may experience pleasure from the killing of others, but that could have been caused from prior suffering in childhood. I do remember that one man, a serial killer, confessed to enjoying murders more after being taught empathy in prison. I do not doubt that some folks may be beyone treatment, but inhumane treatment is not the solution. The only solution in such cases is protection of the general public.
2) My second point is much shorter. In my own life, my father was a negative influence (alcoholic and violent at times). My mother had the strength of character to eventually divorce him despite the protestations of the Roman Catholic priests who assured us we were going to Hell for divorcing my father. Perhaps they just meant my mother, but that did not matter to us. I am convinced that I would not have become a productive citizen without my mother’s strength, and determination.
Fortunately I had two brothers who were my male role models. I will spare you the details, but in very different but important ways they helped me define maleness in a more positive way. Despite that, however, I do think a good father would have made a tremendous difference in my life.
At the same time, I would also agree that a good father, even the best father, can not fully replace a loving mother in raising a girl to adulthood. I don’t believe that statement can be quantified. After all, what is a “good” father. What is a “good” or “well balanced” adult of either gender, and what if any would those gender differences be? Many things based on feelings and intuitions can’t be quantified. There is only so much funding dollars to go around, I guess, and these questions may not generate research dollars the same as other questions do.
So I conclude my post.
James Coley says
Thanks very much for your comment, Chris. I will reply to the first part. I appreciate that you have made a very positive contribution to the dialogue here. Of course, that does not mean I necessarily agree.
As you point out, Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary defines “compassion” as the sympathetic consciousness of others’ distress with a desire to alleviate it. Looking up, in turn, the word “sympathy,” you came to the conclusion that you could not feel compassion for a mass shooter, since each definition of “sympathy” suggests that one can not be sympathetic to someone without sharing their thoughts and feelings, or something along those lines. And certainly we do not wish to share the thoughts and feelings of a mass shooter, at least with respect to their motivation for the destruction they have wrought.
I just can’t buy that line of argument, though. Connecting one definition to another in that way may lead to conclusions the lexicographers never intended or imagined. Also, you might have found a nuance that would not have led you in the same direction if you had looked up “sympathetic” instead of “sympathy.” And even lexicographers are not oracles; they depend just like the rest of us on our linguistic intuitions.
Intuitively, it just does not seem to me that if I feel compassion for someone who has done a terrible thing, that means I have to somehow share in or approve of that terrible thing. Looking at other cases might be helpful. Just to mention one, I can feel compassion for someone who has committed suicide without emotionally sharing in or approving of the decision that they made to end their own life.
Anyway, I want to make a fresh start on your approach to this by looking at dictionary definitions. Let’s try another dictionary. And why not the authoritative one?
Looking up “compassion” in the Oxford English Dictionary, I find that, not surprisingly, there is more than one definition. The first definition might lead us in the same direction you went: “Suffering together with another, participation in suffering; fellow-feeling, sympathy.”
However, the second definition does not include the word “sympathy” at all. Here it is: “The feeling or emotion, when a person is moved by the suffering or distress of another, and by the desire to relieve it; pity that inclines one to spare or to succour.”
I don’t have to share the thoughts and feelings of a mass shooter to have a desire to relieve the suffering the mass shooter feels, if indeed that is what he feels. Also, I have a good reason to want to relieve that suffering if that could prevent him from causing harm to others.
But definitions aside, it seems to me that the real point of compassion, at least in this ethical context, is taking an affective stance toward another person (or a non-human animal, for that matter) which is not vengeful, hostile or mean-spirited, and which includes, among other considerations, a hope, wish or desire for the happiness and well-being of this other person.
Of course, that does not mean we say “X wants to kill people, and I want X to be happy, so I want X to be able to kill people.” That’s because there are other moral considerations that strongly over-ride (to say the least) the desire that X be happy.
All of this goes back to the teachings of some Humanists, Buddhists and others that it is best to want all beings, or at least all human beings, to be happy. It is actually that fundamental ethical teaching that I am concerned about. Is that really something that is best?
Perhaps it is, although, first, it is difficult or impossible sometimes to be compassionate for someone who has done a terrible thing and, second, we realize that wanting all beings to be happy does not mean that, once we weigh all the relevant considerations, we want them to have everything they want.
Finally, there is an interesting distinction in Buddhism (for at least one tradition) between love and compassion. Love is the wish for others to have happiness, while compassion is the wish that others be free of suffering. I can wish that someone is free of suffering without wishing that they are happy, at least if happiness means they get what they want in life.
In particular, I can wish for even a mass shooter to be free of suffering (especially if that suffering led them to cause the destruction they have wrought) without wanting them to be happy, since one thing they want out of life is to end the lives of many other people. (A word of caution is in order here, however, since “suffering” has a particular meaning in Buddhism related to karma and how, as I understand it, ultimately we have no control over what happens in life.)
James Coley says
I wonder what others think about the following two questions: Should we be compassionate to absolutely everyone? If not, then what would be the best ethical standards for compassion?
Greta Dorfman says
Many men who never served in the military have anger issues, usually directed towards women. It’s generally the result of upbringing and role models. So, no, I don’t think those who were traumatized or hardened by war get a compassion pass. I think it is an excuse, and lots of men come back from war still knowing how to function without harming others.
The final sentence is very telling: “He might have been a great guy, good buddy, and a real man.” Interestingly, one doesn’t ever hear these types of descriptions about women who screw up.
James Coley says
Thanks for your comment, Greta.
In response to your first point:
Certainly it is true that many, indeed I would say most, men who return from combat function well in society without harming others. And it is also true that some men who have never been in the military feel angry toward others a lot, although I expect that this is generally directed against both men and women.
I also agree that upbringing and good male role models – or the lack of them – have a lot to do with all this.
However, it seems to me that none of these points, while quite correct in themselves, contradict or undermine anything in the original post.
All I said there was that I think there are times when some men, especially those who were traumatized and hardened by war or other military experiences, feel a profound loneliness that may lead to violence. This is to some extent speculation on my part, it is true, and psychologists who have studied this would be in a better position to say whether what I think is supported by statistics or other empirical information.
Nevertheless, we don’t need their particular expertise to appreciate that war is the most savage and dehumanizing of all experiences. To face the prospect of one’s own death, while being expected to kill, and seeing one’s friends mutilated and killed before one’s eyes, as well as other carnage and extreme suffering, is something our culture expects men to take on as their special responsibility. Women have never been drafted. Often those who are deeply wounded psychologically by combat do not receive much compassion.
One question of a statistical nature would be whether the rate of violence, domestic and otherwise, is higher among men who have been in combat, as compared to men who have not been in combat. Clearly, this is compatible with the majority of men who have been in combat not being violent, and with there being angry or violent men who have never been in combat. If the rate is higher, this would obviously suggest, although it would not in itself prove, that there is a causal relationship between being in combat and violent behavior when one comes home.
In any case, I did not even make that strong a claim in the original post. Certainly there are some men for whom we can see a causal connection between combat experience and violence. And it is actually only the subset of men who have seen combat – i.e., those who have been traumatized and hardened by war or other military experiences – that I specified.
Certainly I never said, implied or suggested that every single man who has seen combat comes back a violent person. That’s a straw man. And there was no suggestion that this alone would warrant a “compassion pass,” only that it is one factor among many to consider.
The question behind the post was an ethical one, not a psychological or sociological one, and I would caution against getting diverted by a digression into my incidental speculations.
Greta, I would ask you in particular, because I respect your clear thinking and capacity for empathy, the questions that served as the title of the post: Should we feel compassion for mass shooters like Devin Kelley? How can we?
My post was really about how difficult it is for me to feel compassion for them, and the speculative excursions were merely part of an attempt to develop some compassion for them, based on the special challenges men face.
The main question, though, is whether we (morally or ethically) ought to feel compassion for mass shooters.
And the deeper question is whether we should be compassionate toward everyone, without exception.
The case of mass shooters seems like an extreme limit or counterexample. The argument that comes to mind for me is as follows: If we are supposed to feel compassion for everyone, then we are supposed to feel compassion for mass shooters. But it is absurd to say that we should feel compassion for mass shooters. Therefore, it is not correct to say that we ought to feel compassion for everyone. I’m interested in what others think about that second premise. Is it really absurd to feel compassion for these people? Are there ways we can develop more compassion for them? Can we? Should we? Why or why not?
In response to your second point:
I don’t think that the final sentence indicates any sort of sexism against women, which seems to be the “Gotcha!” implication of saying it is “telling.” In the first place, these were not descriptions intended to apply to men who screw up. They were intended as descriptions of the Devin Kelley who might have been, if we had a culture that was better at producing good men. There is nothing sexist against women about that. Indeed, the last three paragraphs in the post suggest that it may be more difficult to socialize men, as a population.
And in the second place, we do sometimes describe particular women as a “great gal” or a “real woman,” although less frequently as a “good gal-pal.” I appreciate the point that, nevertheless, these terms may not parallel the ones I used; perhaps they don’t have the same connotations. But, in any case, this difference is not in itself sexist, just a difference.
Finally, let me repeat my hope that the main questions here get sufficient attention. Is it the case that we (morally or ethically) ought to feel compassion for mass shooters? Should we be compassionate toward everyone, without exception?
Greta Dorfman says
James: I am not going to go through your response point by point, but I still cannot agree. I do believe that most anger is directed at women, because women are the easier ones to become victims. Even if they feel angry towards men as well, it will generally be taken out on women. That wasn’t what happened in the case of Devin Kelley in the church, but he had a previous record of extreme anger toward his ex wife. The numbers of incidents of rapes and other domestic violence would support that most anger is directed at women.
I find it interesting to note that you took my statement about “role models” to mean MALE role models. You responded: “I also agree that upbringing and good male role models – or the lack of them – have a lot to do with all this.” Female role models are every bit as important. If the mother did not do anything about putting a stop to abuse in the home, her behavior as a victim is just as important. If she is very strong, and does something – such as taking the steps to divorce an abusive father and get the children away from a destructive situation (even if the abuse is only emotional and not physical, and she takes steps to remove the children from acrimony and not physical violence), her role model is just as important.
To get back to the main question: I cannot feel compassion for a mass shooter. Every one of us is responsible for doing something to “fix” ourselves if we have been victims, by getting therapy, counseling, etc. – whatever it takes. I feel compassion for a person who suffers and struggles internally as the result of abuse, trauma, disharmony in the home, having been hardened by war, etc. etc. I feel extreme compassion for a person who ends up taking his or her own life as the result of such suffering and internal struggles. I do not feel compassion when they become violent toward others. As I said before, they don’t get a compassion pass from me.
James, you made part of your response to my comment personal when you said “Greta, I would ask you in particular, because I respect your clear thinking and capacity for empathy.” My comments were not personal about the writer – I was simply stating my response to the blog post. But I will now respond to that by saying: James, I sincerely hope that my having posted my opinion here will not lead to a one-on-one discussion between us, as I am not a philosopher and I would find that very intimidating. Actually, come to think of it, I do have some control over that. I can just not answer your rebuttal. However, if you do wish to have a productive dialog here with others, please keep in mind that you made your best points in your original post, and I strongly suggest keeping your responses brief.
James Coley says
Thank you for your reply, Greta.
When I made part of my response “personal” it was in a complimentary way. In any case, the purpose of this blog is to discuss the issues at hand – and the arguments, objections and rejoinders related to them – not to criticize each other. Thank you for your objections, and I will present a couple of rejoinders on the secondary issues before returning to your reply to the main question. I am grateful to you as well for addressing that primary issue.
First, whether more anger is directed at women than men is an empirical question, and it seems unwarranted, in the absence of data, to assume that most anger is directed at women.
In the case of Devin Kelley, it is worth noting that his stepson was a victim of his violence. On at least one occasion, he hit him in the head with what the Air Force described as “a force likely to produce death or grievous bodily harm.” As you note, his mass shooting in Texas was not directed against women.
While incidents of rape and domestic violence are all too common, it is also true that men are much more likely to be victims of all other forms of assault, as well as of homicide. It is not at all clear that, overall, women are more often the victims of anger and violence as compared to men.
Second, I don’t think it is true that female role models are as important as male role models in bringing up boys. Again, this is an empirical question, and we would all benefit from inviting speakers to the EHST who impartially research these matters.
But it seems to me that, for a boy to develop into a good man, he needs to see an example of a good man, ideally in his household day after day and year after year. I think it is a common observation that children, who do not think on the abstract level of modelling ethical behavior wherever they find it, tend to look to examples of the same gender in coming to understand what it is to grow up. But I could be wrong.
To return to the main question. You said that you can not feel compassion for a mass shooter, and I think that is an entirely reasonable position. While there is something attractive about the teaching of some Humanists, Buddhists and others that compassion must be unbounded – particularly in that it sets what seems to be a very high bar in terms of one’s moral virtue – I don’t know that we have to take it as a given that one is unethical when one has little or no compassion in particular instances. Certainly, that does not mean that one is not a compassionate person overall.
If compassion is not be universal, then questions arise about what criteria or standards we use to draw the line between where we ought to be compassionate, and where compassion is not morally required, and might even be viceful rather than virtuous. In other words, what is our ethic to be with regard to compassion for others? That seems like a very good question for Ethical Culture and Humanism to address.
I think you make two very good points on the main issue. At least, the following is how I interpret your reply. Please let me know if I have misunderstood.
First, you make the point that everyone has a responsibility to address their own failings, and to try to overcome bad behavior even if the psychological reasons for it are not of their own doing.
This suggests that, the more one tries to improve, the more one deserves compassion. Conversely, the less one tries to improve, the less one deserves compassion. That strikes me as a quite reasonable and relevant criterion to include in an ethic of compassion.
Second, you note the contrast between the suffering one feels and the suffering one causes to others. Again, this seems like a good standard. We ought to feel more compassion for people who suffer, especially if the pain is so intense it leads to suicide, than for people who make others suffer.
So this could move the conversation in an interesting new direction.
I wonder what others think about the following two questions: Should we be compassionate to absolutely everyone? If not, then what would be the best ethical standards for compassion?
James Coley says
Comments are welcome.
Chris Koonce says
Speaking as a person who has done terrible things and taken measures to “fix myself”, including deliberately going to prison and taking advantage of the prison-ashram project developed by Bo Lozoff until I could be forgiven by myself (in both senses of the phrase) whereupon I was almost immediately paroled, I would say I agree with Greta Dorfman that we are responsible for being self-compassionate enough to come off decently in the long run. I hope, Greta, that I have understood you correctly.
Not just everyone with a terrible history deserves my compassion, but, I believe that everyone deserves humane treatment, which means that even people who do terrible things should be given the chance to rehabilitate themselves by being sent to prison. A judge or jury may send an offender to a penitentiary as an act of mercy. I recall that my defense lawyer came to my jail cell after my trial was over and said, “I need your social security number in order to get paid for handling your case.” He wasn’t even trying to get paid if I didn’t think I had gotten a fair deal in court. My lawyer was a compassionate and ethical person.
Some have behaved so terribly that they must never be released into public again. Compassion dictates that they be allowed as much freedom from suffering as is humanely possible. It is simply too costly to inflict or even allow great suffering in prisons. For example, to inflict suffering upon the prisoners requires that the larger community hire sadists and compensate their cruel behavior by paying them money for it. Rewarding sadistic behavior, as is now often done, strongly tends to demoralizes the community as a whole in a large number of ways.
Even though some prisoners can never be released, no one should be required to abandon all hope while still alive. We could do a lot to make prisons better places to stay and rehabilitate with some hope of an improved future. Depriving a person of hope makes rehabilitation meaningless and impossible.
So to argue is how to show compassion to the terrible.
James Coley says
Thank you for your post, Chris. I think you introduce into the discussion an important distinction: even if not everyone deserves our compassion, everyone deserves humane treatment. I think the ethical commitment to the idea that everyone deserves humane treatment is fundamental to Humanism. Thank you again for sharing your experiences and insights,
Chris Kaman says
Kudos to you Chris for your post and your struggle to overcome your past. I agree with you 100% about treatment of those in prison!
Greta Dorfman says
Greetings, Chris Koonce (we have another Chris in this discussion). Kudos to you for deliberately (voluntarily?) going to prison and taking advantage of the prison-ashram project .
Yes, I do feel that, except in the case of mental illness, we are each responsible for taking the steps necessary to overcome what some might refer to as our “demons” (which may be the result of past trauma).
My previous point was mainly that a person who becomes violent, whether it is directed mainly at women, whether it starts with one particular woman and then spreads out, or never was about women at all, does not get my compassion because he was “traumatized and hardened by war.” I do think, however (and I didn’t mention this before), that many people go into the military in the first place as a way to distance themselves from other problems, but bringing their anger issues with them. It may be anger issues that prevented them from getting a job or being in a healthy relationship, but joining the military isn’t the answer.
It is also possible that the military doesn’t do enough to weed out people who come in with mental health issues. I honestly don’t know how it’s done here, although in some countries, where military service is mandatory, they do careful profiling to make sure that people with mental health issues don’t go into combat, don’t have access to weapons, and serve desk jobs or support staff or other non-combat jobs on a military base, just to meet the mandatory service requirement. I know for a fact that this is done in Israel.
I recognize that many people with mental health issues are not getting any kind of care. I do sympathize; however, my reaction to violence is going to be the same whether they served in the military or not. I was living in California when Ronald Reagan, then Governor of California, shut down many mental institutions, resulting in many patients identified as being mentally ill, but had not committed violent crimes, being released onto the streets with nowhere to go, which in turn seriously added to the problems of homelessness.
It is interesting to note that since this discussion started a few days ago, a new mass shooting rampage was reported in a small town in Northern California. Several of his victims were school children, but once again, the shooter’s first victim was his wife, whose body was discovered beneath the floorboards of their home. Incidentally, the shooter, Kevin Jansen Neal, was a newcomer to California, having been raised in Raleigh, North Carolina. It’s not clear to me whether he ever served in the military, but it is known that he had a history of violence against women. I am certain if I were to learn that he had been “hardened by war,” that would not give me any reason to feel compassion for him, but I would want to learn more about whether the military does enough to screen people with anger issues.