Commentary: For many, gun ownership comes down to a duty to protect

By Tom Burke

If on the final judgement day you are asked, “Did you do everything you could to protect your family?” How would you answer?

It’s a tough question as “everything” to one person might be little-to-nothing to another; “protect” isn’t defined; and “family” can be anyone from your partner and kids, to your friends, neighbors, community or country.

Further, the response from your now-heavenly corpus standing in the dock looking up at the almighty judge might be, “Protect them from what? Themselves? Monsters under the bed? Financial catastrophe? Measles? Zika? Muggings, terrorists, crazy people, hurricanes, volcanoes, earthquakes, traffic on I-5; what?”

Nationally, fear of crime rates high in What-Are-You-Afraid-Of polling. A New York Times/CBS poll says 79 percent of Americans fear terrorism; another survey says 94 percent are afraid of mass shootings; Gallup says 70 percent say crime is rising; and the murder rate in Chicago and the tragedy at the mall in Burlington adds to everyone’s concern for their loved ones. (Statistically, serious crime is on the decline, but the perception of danger hasn’t gone down, it’s risen. And don’t blame this politician or that one — the internet, the media and highly visible riots in cities across the country are fueling people’s fears.)

And when it comes to natural disasters the New Yorker magazine set everyone here in Western Washington on edge and scurrying to REI for freeze-dried food, water purifiers and flashlight batteries with the publication of “The Really Big One.” When geologists say they really don’t know if the earth will move before you’re done reading this article or in 700 years, it tends to make people nervous.

But whether the fear of home invasions, terrorist shootings, mentally disturbed kids with weapons, or a slipping Cascadia Fault is rational or justified isn’t the point.

The point for many is how they face their fears and what they do to confront them. They want to answer the question, ‘Did you do everything you could to protect your family?” with a resounding, “Yes!”

So they take action.

My community, for instance, has an organized and funded disaster committee. There’s a trailer filled with emergency equipment, generators are strategically positioned, there’s an organized community-wide response network, communications gear, training drills, and a mind-set that says, “We’re not expecting help from the government for at least a week, maybe two or three.”

The community does, however, leave stockpiling water, food, medicine and other personal life-sustaining supplies to individuals. From the collective perspective it’s ultimately your own job to keep yourself alive.

In terms of preparing for crime some things can reduce one’s risk: stay away from high crime areas, learn situational awareness, have lots of lights around the house, strong doors, secure windows, alarms, watchful neighbors, a very loud dog who barks and, “If you see something, say something.”

For some that might be enough. But it took more than 50 minutes for a local police to arrive on the scene of a reported road rage incident and one of the participants was apparently murdered. If there were a home invasion, even if officers arrive within ten minutes, that’s too late.

If you listen carefully to law enforcement even they say relying on the police for one’s safety isn’t enough. The local county sheriff made a presentation at a recent meeting in my community and began by stating, “Law enforcement is not responsible for preventing crime.” He went on to say it was the individual’s responsibility to keep ones’ self and family safe.

For tens of millions of Americans that means making a personal decision and buying a gun. The data is pretty overwhelming: 350 million guns: 44 percent of Americans own at least one firearm (probably a low estimate as many gun-owners won’t admit ownership to a pollster over the phone), according to the FBI new gun purchases are at an historic high, and 14.5 million Americans have a concealed-carry permit, double the number from just eight years ago.

So nearly half the country owns a firearm. And while some hunt, some target shoot, some collect rare or historic weapons, and some carry because their job requires it, they believe a firearm adds a layer of protection against the things they fear.

Now there are any number of arguments about the meaning of the Second Amendment and the right to own a firearm. There are varying perspectives whether the kind of “common sense” gun laws advanced by gun control groups actually work. (Gun control advocates say they do, gun rights advocates say only law-abiding people obey them: criminals, terrorists, and people with mental illness by definition ignore them.)

There is even disagreement about terminology. One person’s “assault rifle” is another’s “hunting rifle.” Some refer to “gun violence” as if the gun operated without a person pointing and shooting it, and taking ‘em away from everybody, like they did in Australia, is a viable solution; while others say, “Guns don’t shoot people, people shoot people, arrest the lawbreaker, help the mentally ill.”

But for the poor soul who has to answer in the afterlife, or consider right here and right now if they are doing all they can to protect their family, owning a gun isn’t a matter of Constitutional interpretation, “common sense” gun laws, magazine capacity, or whether a gun looks scary; for them gun ownership is a matter of conscience and responsibility.

To these people not owning a firearm is like looking at your spouse and kids after the Cascadia Fault shifted from a 9 on the Richter scale and realizing, “They’re going to die because I didn’t do enough to protect them — stockpiling enough food, water, warm clothes and medicine for something I knew could happen.”

For millions of Americans owning a gun, knowing self-defense law, learning how to use a firearm properly, and keeping their guns safely stored is a serious family protection issue. A moral imperative. Part of the responsibility of being a parent. It’s not everybody’s decision, but it is their decision.

They never want to answer to God, or Yahweh, or Elohim, or Krishna, or Jehovah, or Allah, or themselves with, “No, I could have done more. But I didn’t.”

Tom Burke lives in Bothell.