Violence

Street Thugs and Other Idiots

The propensity to fight has been a defining behaviorial characteristic of human beings throughout our history. From the earliest stages of human evolution, physical violence has been the primary method used by humans to settle disagreements. Over the millions of years humans have been on Earth, we have evolved as a species and grown as a race, and the barbaric nature that once defined our behavior has slowly faded. Human attributes like social cognition, altruism, and empathy have evolved as more beneficial for our survival than physical violence (Whipps, 2009). Our higher reasoning and intelligence have made us more agreeable than we've ever been, and these attributes give us the ability to talk out our disagreements peacefully. Unfortunately, not everyone uses these innate human abilities to their fullest. Many people still believe in the tribal principle of an eye for an eye. These people fight first and think later, throwing their fists at anyone who disagrees with them instead of taking the time to understand why they disagree. Personally, I view this as a sign of underdeveloped human intellect coupled with a weakness of character. These people lack the emotional intelligence required to view a situation from another person's perspective, an essential skill for the negotiation of peaceful resolutions to human conflict. Because of these people, some disagreements simply cannot be resolved peacefully. Because of these people, in some situations, we must defend ourselves by matching force with force. When attacked physically, one must respond physically.

I encountered a situation like this one day walking home from work.

Street Thugs

It was just after 5:00pm, a very busy time of day when tens of thousands of people leave work in the Financial District, South Beach, Rinconville, and other nearby business districts. The sidewalks along Market Street were packed as everyone rushed to get home, or to happy hours, dinner dates, and wherever else people go to socialize after work. On this particular day, the sun was still bright in the sky, with barely even a hint that it would, in only a couple of hours, disappear below the horizon, leaving the city and everyone in it in the dark. I sought refuge from the crowded street inside of a Walgreen's store. The quiet calm of the store stood in stark contrast with the crowded chaos of the sidewalk outside, and I could feel the muscles in my body begin to relax as I adapted to the store's quiet environment. This particular store was huge, easily ten times the size of a typical Walgreen's store. Being so large, it rarely suffered from the low inventory or out of stock problems that seemed to plague smaller Walgreen's stores, and with it being right on the way home, I shopped there all the time and was very familiar with its layout. I headed straight to the soda aisle. It was hot outside. I was thirsty and I wanted something cold to drink. The soda aisle was all the way in the back of the store, literally the last aisle, the fartherst point from the store's entrance, the cashiers, the security guard, and as it turned out safety. As I entered the aisle, I noticed a guy hanging out in front of the potato chips. There seemed to be something odd about the way he was looking at the display. I didn't know what was odd about it at the time, but considering what happened next, I think what seemed odd was that he was not looking at the display so much as he was pretending to look at it. As I walked further into the aisle, he turned around and said, "I saw you here last week."
.....Again, I'm in that store all the time, so his statement did not surprise me. "I'm here all the time", I said as I attempted to get past him as fast as I could. He looked like he had a story he wanted to tell, and I was not in the mood to get stuck listening to some boring story about some boring aspect of his life. As I said it, another guy further down the aisle stepped out from behind a pillar, and two other guys came hurrying into the front of the aisle. All looking right at me.
.....The first guy said, "Im gon shank you."
....."What?"
....."Im gon shank you."
.....Thinking he had said he wanted to thank me, I asked him, "For what?"
....."Im gon shank you", he repeated for the third time, yelling it this time. He was clearly irritated with me. I noticed his friends getting closer and closer, positioning themselves in a way that left me backed into a corner.
....."He's gonna shank you, nigga!", one of the other guys yelled at me.
....."Please don't say that word!" I really can't stand the n-word, doesn't matter who says it or who they say it to, it's just an ugly word, and I almost couldn't stop myself from admonishing him for saying it. Besides, it gave me a few seconds to try to remember what shank meant. I'd heard the word before, but with all the thoughts that were running through my mind, I couldn't remember what it meant. Realizing that they'd cornered me, I needed time to assess the situation. I didn't want to do what I was about to do unless I knew for sure they were doing what I thought they were doing.
....."I use whatever word I want."
.....Then, from the guy who supposedly had a shank, "Give me yo wallet." They started yelling at me all at once, each louder than the other, throwing out obscenities, demanding my wallet, cell phone, and headphones, saying whatever threatening words they could think of trying to intimidate me by making themselves seem like more of a threat than they actually were.
.....I'm an easy going kind of guy, and I usually get along well with people. At the time, I'd never been in a physical altercation with anyone, but it was becoming more and more apparent that the situation I was in had a very real possibility of changing that. I couldn't run away from them because they had backed me into a corner. I called out for help as loud as I could several times, but being in the back of the store so far away from everyone else, the only people who heard me was the four of them. I tried to push past them, but they were so close to me at this point it was easy for them to block my path. I threw out my own threats, trying to make myself seem like more of a threat than I actually was. It was even less convincing than their attempt to use the tactic on me. I thought about giving into them. After all, that is what the police tell us we should do in this kind of situation. Personal possessions can be replaced. It's always best to give a robber what he wants so he won't hurt you. As I considered the humiliation I'd feel after giving in to these stupid street thugs, a distant memory came rushing up from my subconscious, bullying its way to the front of my mind, making itself seem like the only rational thought in the sea of irrational thoughts that occupied my mind in that moment.

Just Do It Already

"JUST FUCKING HIT ME, GODAMMIT!" I got picked on a lot when I was a kid, mainly because I was such as easy target for the bullies. One look at me, and they could see I would not fight back. Hell, I was such a weakling, I wouldn't even mouth off to them. When I was about 10 years old, one of my older brothers got tired of hearing me whine about being picked on, and he decided that he'd teach me how to fight so I could defend myself. I wasn't at all enthusiastic about this, but he had basically bullied me into it. We had spent a fair amount of time by him showing me how to make a fist. Although I was not able to make a fist to his liking, he finally decided it was best to move onto the next part of the lesson. He wanted me to know what it felt like to hit someone because, as he told me that day, most of the time that's what's going to end it. He kept telling me to hit him, trying different things to get me mad enough to actually do it, like flicking my ears, telling me I looked like a girl, calling me dumb, pushing me around, all the things that usually made me red in anger. None of them worked. I still refused to hit him. He was visibly irritated with me, and I was beginning to think the lesson was going to end with him hitting me instead me hitting him. At a certain point, he said something to me, whispered it actually, leaning into me looking me right in eyes as he said it in a conspiratorial man-to-man tone. "The last thing a bully is expecting you to do is throw the first punch. He'll be ready for everything else you do, but he won't be expecting you to punch him." I wasn't so sure of that, and he never convinced me to hit him that day. After a while, he lost interest and gave up trying. As I began to consider the humiliation of being robbed by these stupid street thugs, my brother's words pushed all my other thoughts out of the way, presenting themselves proudly, defiantly as the one relevant thought in such a precarious situation. My inner voice screamed at me. "HIT HIM GODAMMIT!" I hesitated just like I had with my brother all those years ago, just like I always had. I considered my options again but quickly concluded that I had only one, so I swung at the guy who was closest to me.
.....My brother was right. It was the last thing he was expecting me to do, and he was absolutely not ready for it.
.....I didn't hit him hard enough to do any damage, but the punch made him step back, out of the way, giving me the room I needed to get past him, to the front of the store, where I yelled for someone to call the police. The cowards ran out of the store so fast, the security guard hardly even noticed them. But I had pissed off one of them, the one I threw a punch at. He stopped for a second to grab something from a store display and throw it at me. His aim was so bad, I didn't even have to duck. I laughed at him, so did two other people who didn't know what was happening but realized he had thrown something at me. This made him even angrier. I could see it in his eyes. But the security guard was already advancing on him, preparing to block his exit from the store. He realized he didn't have time to throw anything else and gave up his plan for revenge, running past the security guard as fast as the other three cowards. Like that, he was gone.
.....I decided there was no need to call the police since the theives were gone, but as I finished my shopping, I had the nagging feeling that I hadn't seen the last of them.
.....I was right. I hadn't.
.....Within seconds after leaving the store, I heard them running up behind me. Again, they tried to corner me so I wouldn't be able to get past them. Still pissed off from my first encounter with them, I was ready for a fight this time. One thought ran through my mind. "Four against one. Cowards!" They started yelling at me all at once again, the same old tired technique that didn't work inside the store. They demanded everything this time, my wallet, my headphones, my cell phone, my groceries, everything I had. The one I'd thrown a punch at inside the store was ready to settle the score. I could see it in his eyes, his posture. I could practically hear him thinking it. He grabbed for my Walgreen's bag with one hand, his fist ready in his other hand. This time, I didn't hesitate. My right fist landed squarely in the middle of his left cheek, hard and angry. I felt his teeth rattle beneath my fist as I hit him. It hurt. I saw his eyes water from the pain. Again, it was the last thing he was expecting from me. He stumbled back a few steps from the shock of me hitting him so hard. He stood there for a few seconds, stunned, seemingly unsure whether I had actually just hit him. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed 9-1-1. My cell phone has a large screen, and when I make a call, the numbers are huge. The "911" was so big, you probably could have seen it from across the street. All four of those cowards knew exactly who I called as the operator answered and I told him I was being attacked. They turned and ran away so fast that they had disappeared into the crowd before the operator could even reply to me. Again, I didn't see the need to ask for the police to respond to a situation that was over. This time I knew I wouldn't see them again. As I put my cell phone back in my pocket, I looked around me, wondering if anyone had seen what happened.

.....Yep, they sure did. And my anger went through the roof.

Other Idiots

My encounters with the street thugs lasted no more than thirty seconds each. The first time, they had the benefit of the store not being busy, so there was nobody there to see what happened. It was a different story the second time. It happened at a very busy intersection at a very busy time of day. There were people everywhere, going this way and that way, walking within a few feet of where they chose to confront me again. Some of the people passing by noticed what was happening. Not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE people had their cell phones out recording the whole thing on video. Instead of calling 9-1-1, which would have been a humungous help, those five idiots tried to grab a YouTube moment. Instead of doing anything to help, these people saw an opportunity to get their fifteen minutes of fame, or in this case 30 seconds. As I began the rest of my walk home, the anger I felt toward the four street thugs had already begun to subside, and I began to feel the first pangs of forgiveness towards them. After all, in order for me to move on from the experience myself, I would eventually have to forgive them. I was already thinking about the basis of that forgiveness. I was doing ok financially. I wasn't rich, but I had what I needed with a little extra left over for the fun stuff in life. If they had to resort to such drastic measures for money, I was almost certainly better off than they were. I felt my anger toward them fading away, but at the same time, the five other idiots had really pissed me off.

Has It Really Come to This?

My experience is by no means unique or even rare. It has become common for people to use their cell phones to film emergency situations instead of using them to call 9-1-1. In fact, it happens everyday, all over the world. Social media enables people to share information on a global level instantaneously, and this has helped to create the mentality of needing to be first with whatever is happening. Many people film any situation they think might capture interest and immediately post it on social media channels hoping it will go viral. It's gotten so automatic that they don't even think about what they are actually witnessing, whether anyone they film might need help, or if they can or should help. It happens in minor altercations like mine and major emergency situations in which someone is in danger of being hurt or killed. Many municipalities have passed legislation that prohibits this kind of behavior because it is inherently dangerous. These social media film makers focus so intensely on the action that they very often get in the way of first responders when they arrive on the scene to help.

Bystander Effect

Social psychologists view this behavior as a modern manifestation of the bystander effect, a social-psychological theory positing that people are less likely to offer help to someone in an emergency situation when other people are present and that the greater the number of other people the less likely any of them will help (Philpot et al, 2020). One possible cause of this behavior is that people feel less responsibility to intervene when there are other people who are not intervening. Another possible cause is that seeing other people who aren't taking action creates the perception that the situation is not an emergency. Many of the bystanders who choose to film an emergency instead of helping do so under the guise of increasing social awareness, which they think excuses them for not intervening. Let me be clear...it excuses them for nothing. Instead, it demonstrates a dissonance between how they describe their values and how they actually behave in accordance to their values. Owning a camera phone does not negate the moral responsibility to intervene to help someone who is in danger. Anyone who would film an emergency situation instead of helping is someone who does not value human life, and if they don't value human life in others, how can they expect anyone else to value it in them? I would never expect anyone to throw themselves into a situation to help another person if that situation is dangerous, but calling 9-1-1 is not dangerous. If someone wants to start filming after they call 9-1-1, I'm ok with that. They did their duty. That's all anyone can ask. What makes this so egregious is that these people never seem to think about the person who is in need of help. They film it instead of helping, then they post it online without permission, which is very much against the law. These people don't seem to care about the pain it could cause to the victim to realize the emergency sitation has been viewed by countless thousands of people without their knowledge. No thought seems to ever be given to the victim's recovery or whether they are even ok.

It is a sad condemnation of humanity that so many people are comfortable filming acts of violence and sharing the video on social media with countless unknown strangers, but few people are comfortable providing help to one stranger who really needs it. If any one of the idiots who tried to film my encounter with the street thugs had posted it online anywhere, I would've sued the fuck out of them. Every American holds the right of publicity to control the use of their name, image, likeness, and other characteristics of their identity (Cal. Civ. Code § 3344.1). The underlying principle of this type of law is our fundamental right to privacy. Celebrities give up much of their right to privacy when they make the chice to be famous, but non-celebrities are well protected. There are exceptions to the right to privacy for news media and security cameras. Otherwise, our right to publicity prohibits anyone from displaying our image without our permission. There is absolutely no exception for self-centered, uncaring, callous assholes in pursuit of the next viral video.

---

I've thought about my experience with the common street thugs quite a lot since it happened. I acted on instinct when I hit the guy in his face. Both encounters happened so fast, I didn't have time to think things through. I didn't have time to try to talk my way out of it. At no time during either enounter did I believe any of them had a weapon on them. If they had one, I'm quite sure they would have pulled it out and threatened me with it. The point I'm getting at is that my life was never in danger. I didn't need to fight force with force because I was the only one who inflicted physical harm. Quite honestly, by hitting that guy (twice), I acted against my principles, maybe even my morals.

Works Cited

Philpot, Richard, Liebst, Lasse Suonperä, Levine, Mark, Bernasco, Wim, Lindegaard, Marie Rosenkrantz (2020). "Would I be helped?" American Psychologist, 75(5), 66–75. doi:10.1037/amp0000469.

Whipps, Heather. (2009). "The Evolution of Human Aggression." Retrieved from https://www.livescience.com/5333-evolution-human-aggression.html

---