This reflection on the crime problem in New Orleans is relevant to Minneapolis. At least some parts, anyway. And probably to a neighborhood near you.
A terrible, horrible crime occurs. The city gets up in arms. March on City Hall. Demand change. We're mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore! Editorials bray against the madness. Politicians bloviate. Time passes. Nothing changes.
…When — and how — do we really change? When do we stop frantically looking for answers under the same sofa cushions we've looked under hundreds of times before? Schools. Playgrounds. Jobs.
It's all piffle. These guys don't want jobs. These guys don't shoot each other because they don't have jobs. Whoever shot Jeremy Galmon is not going to take the stand in his defense and say he had no other choice because he couldn't find work. And to suggest otherwise is more navel-gazing denial — but we have to suggest it, because not to suggest it is to admit there is no solution.
And we can't do that.
But neither the problem nor the solution is about schools, jobs or second line parades. The problem is and has been the same for as long as I have lived in this town. The problem is parents. And lack of them. Lack of caring, nurturing, supervision. Lack of giving a damn. I hate to go all Oprah on you, but there is no hope for a child raised without love. It's a sad, sick, sorry-ass state of affairs: Babies make babies who kill babies.
Go read the whole thing.
H/T: MJB