From: "John Hurst", [EMAIL PROTECTED]
I Am Alive, No Thanks to Gun Control
by Hillel Goldstein
There are times in our lives when many of our most
basic assumptions come under a barrage from the
heavy artillery of reality. Some of us receive such
a wake-up call in the form of a life-threatening
event that literally shatters our lives. It is then up
to us to do our best to take inventory of the damage to
body and soul, pick up the pieces, and start afresh. I
would like to tell you, at the time of the anniversary
of a horrible encounter that almost killed me, of such
a time of reckoning. But first, some background will
help.
I was born in Rochester, New York, on the holiest of
Jewish Holidays, Yom Kippur. My parents are
American-born children of Eastern European Orthodox
Jewish immigrants. Had my grandparents chosen to stay
in Europe, I would not be around. During World War II,
every member of my paternal and maternal families that
stayed behind in Galicia and Lithuania died a horrible
death at the hands of the Nazis. So we can be counted
among the fortunate ones.
Martial Memories
My family and I moved to Israel in 1973, a month
before the Yom Kippur War. At the time, it seemed
strange to see young men and women toting rifles. I
quickly learned the reason for this: These young
conscripts were the first to leap into action if
anything went awry. Almost daily, I heard news accounts
- terrifying, chilling stories - about terrorists
who invaded high school dormitories, or who stormed
into the apartments of regular Israeli citizens. Since
most Israelis serve in the Reserves until well into
middle age, many of them were able to fight back,
although the terrorists tended to have the cowardly
advantage of sheer surprise. I was drafted into service
in the Israel Defense Forces in 1983, and served for
three years in a combat unit. I saw two tours of combat
duty in Lebanon. By the time I became a staff sergeant,
firearms were a natural extension of my arm, reserved
for what police marksmanship trainer Massad Ayoob would
call the gravest extreme.
At various points in my military career, I carried
an M-16, short M-16, M-203, Galil, and short Galil
(Glilon). I was a good shot and a disciplined soldier.
In my specialty in the Israeli Defense Force, I
functioned as a drill sergeant for the 18-year-old
boy-soldiers who were recruited every few months. The
many stereotypes that abound about basic training
stem, in part, from the immensely difficult task that
recruits must master within six months: They must
transform themselves from high-school graduates into
soldiers. The extreme psychological stress inherent in
military combat duty left a strong impression on me. I
became fascinated with the amazing adaptability of
people to less-than-ideal situations. I developed an
interest in psychology that has guided my career ever
since.
Attacked in the U.S.A.
In the summer of 1986 I returned to the U.S. After
acquiring a bachelor's degree and two master's
degrees in psychology, I settled in Chicago, to
raise a family and complete my Doctor of Psychology
degree. I lost contact with the world of firearms -
until Benjamin Smith, a Neo-Nazi from a wealthy
home, tried to kill me as I walked home from synagogue
on Friday, July 2, 1999.
I am a Chassidic Jew, and at the time of Benjamin
Smith's attack I was wearing my traditional Sabbath
garb. "Easy target," he must have thought.
Like many complacent Americans, I used to think -
naively - that spree-killings such as Benjamin Smith's
couldn't happen in "my neighborhood." Yet there he was,
my would-be assassin, idling at the stop sign on my
block. As soon as I came within a few feet of his
vehicle, he opened fire. I didn't have a clue what was
happening. As it was the Fourth of July weekend,
firecrackers had been going off all day, and this did
not sound any different. I kept walking, but I felt a
sudden pain and I realized that I was bleeding heavily. I
had been shot in the abdomen, shoulder, and arm. And so,
on the Fourth of July weekend, when we proudly celebrate
our independence, I almost died.
What About Gun Control?
I was categorized as seriously wounded, and, thank God,
received emergency treatment at one of Chicago's best
trauma units. As I convalesced in the hospital I was
astounded at the number of phone calls I received
right in my room from the news media, local and
national. Suddenly I was "somebody" to these folks,
because Benjamin Smith was still on the rampage in
Illinois and Indiana, and reporters hungry for a scoop
continually pestered me for an interview. I refused to
speak to anyone. Although that time is somewhat
clouded by a painkiller and IV-induced haze, I recall
all too clearly that the vast majority of the media
people wanted to speak with me about the implication of
my personal tragedy for "gun control."
As a result of my experience, I became interested in
the issues pertaining to the so-called panacea called
gun control, and decided to investigate the question
with an open mind. I read about handguns, studied
Second Amendment issues, and examined all sides of the
argument. To my dismay I reached the conclusion - without
any help from such groups as the National Rifle
Association, Gun Owners of America, Jews for the
Preservation of Firearms Ownership, or the John Birch
Society - that good, law-abiding people are being
systematically disarmed. While some might contend that
my traumatic experience impaired my judgment, I beg to
differ: It seems to me that as a result of my personal
tragedy I can actually see much more clearly than
before. All I want is to have the legal option to have
a fighting chance of surviving if a two-legged animal
of any persuasion tries to kill me again, or if, Heaven
forbid, my beloved wife and two small children are in
mortal danger.
Many of the things said in the aftermath of Benjamin
Smith's rampage, and the shooting spree conducted just
weeks later by Neo-Nazi Buford Furrow, were utterly
astonishing to me. Both Smith and Furrow were racist
pagans inspired by Hitler's National Socialist
ideology; Furrow made a point of saying that his attack
on a Jewish day-care center was intended as a "wake-up
call for America to kill Jews." Guardians of "respectable"
opinion properly condemned the murderous bigotry
displayed by Smith and Furrow. However, the "real"
problem, Americans were told, was private gun ownership,
and the "solution" was to deprive law-abiding citizens
of the means to protect their families from violent
crime. This was the message of the White
House-orchestrated piece of political theater called
the "Million Mom March."
Lesson of History
Surely, there are clear lessons taught by history,
one of which is that civilian disarmament empowers
not only relatively small-time murderers such
as Smith and Furrow, but also paves the way for
major-league mass murderers, such as Adolf Hitler. It
would seem that this lesson would be particularly
clear to American Jews. However, I was to learn, much
to my amazement, that my newfound understanding of this
lesson was extremely unpopular in my very
own Orthodox Jewish community.
As I eagerly - and somewhat naively - shared my
insights within my community, I was hit with repeated
fusillades of empty clich�s: "The police are here to
protect us" (although they were nowhere to be found
when I took three slugs from a Neo-Nazi nutcase);
"You're not in the Army anymore"; and so on. I soon
realized that I had to keep my opinions to myself. I
do not mean to upbraid these good people: My community
consists of kind, pious, God-fearing people who still
adhere to traditional values, and I am proud to
be associated with them. They were of great help and
comfort to me and to my family during my long recovery
at home. But I think they were scared by the new fire
in my soul. Like many other good people, their views of
the right to bear arms have been shaped by people who
seek the destruction of liberty.
My painful experience clarified issues for me. Far too
many of my ancestors died under Hitler's National
Socialist reign of terror for me to defile their memory
by indifference. A few months after I was shot, I walked
into the local gun shop with great trepidation,
expecting to meet Jew-hating Neanderthals bedecked in
Nazi regalia. Obviously, my own views had been molded,
in part, by the same omnipresent, anti-gun propaganda
that has had such an impact on the minds of my Orthodox
Jewish friends. But of course, the people I met were
genuinely nice guys. They were sincerely sympathetic
and not at all patronizing when I told them about my
experience, and were eager to help - unlike the
"compassionate" media people who pestered me in
the hospital out of a desire to exploit my tragedy to
advance the "gun control" cause. With the help of my
new friends in the much-demonized "gun culture," I was
able to the re-learn the art of soldiering, albeit the
civilian version.
Someday, I hope that my friends in the Orthodox Jewish
community will come to understand that it is un-Jewish
not to try to defend oneself. In Vayikra (Leviticus)
and elsewhere, the Torah unequivocally commands the
righteous to defend themselves. Furthermore, Jews, more
than most people, should understand the lethal danger of
allowing themselves to be disarmed and therefore at the
mercy of the lawless - whether the criminals are thugs
prowling the streets or despots haunting the halls of
government.
This understanding came to me at great personal cost,
and I hope that good people across our nation can
learn this lesson in a less painful way.
-30-
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