Opinion: Rootin’, Tootin’, and Shootin’

I’m a pacifist. Call it weakness or strength, whatever. I like to think of it more as a mere fact of myself than a moral conviction. Facts are or at least they can be simple. Convictions? Morality? Not so much. Granted, I haven’t been in those kinds of immediate life-and-death situations where convictions and supposed “facts” lose their meaning. I’ve never been called to “serve my country”. This “conscientious objection” to lethal violence has never been tested beyond the cozy crucible of theory and conjecture, so maybe I’m just full of shit. But for now, pacifism feels right; the label feels like it fits. 

But god, if I don’t love shootin’ me some guns.

I love the smell of gunpowder, I love the sight of hot lead ripping through paper targets, I love hearing the sound of brass cases hitting the floor. I love feeling the recoil in my wrists and in my shoulder. I could go on and on. There is something rather basal about it all, but hey, it’s fun.

I was probably around eleven years old when I first fired a gun, a .22 rimfire long-rifle. Not a whole lot of bang, but I was in love. Since then, I’ve fired more than a few guns, 9mm Berettas, Glocks, a couple Smith & Wesson .38 revolvers, and a special treat, the infamous AR-15, and many more. 

Now you can’t shoot your friends with a firearm obviously, but I found the second best thing: airsoft. For the unacquainted, it’s a close cousin of paintball, except the guns are designed to appear just like their real-life counterparts save a single orange tip. If you’re fancy about it, you can even attach the same expensive scopes and laser sights you see in the movies to those fake guns. Now there’s no way of accurately simulating combat, but unrealistic and inconsequential as it is, this is as close as you can get.

It truly does captivate me. Firearm technique, corner-clearing (how a shooter would enter a room), fancy body armor, and tactical helmets with all the fixings. Airsoft is great because I get my adrenaline rush without the immediate moral quandaries or battlefield-traumas that actual combat tends to get rather muddied by. I’m by no means an expert, I’m far from it really, yet it’s a hobby. Over the years, I’ve accumulated more than a few odds and ends: pistol holsters, tactical vests, rifle bags, camo-fatigues, etc.

It’s funny because my social media algorithms are all over the place. On Instagram, I’ll get posts with tasteful infographics about supporting local, green businesses or honoring social justice causes, and on that same feed, I’ll also get posts about bullet-proof vest reviews, concealed-carry holsters ranked by practicality, military breach-and-clear tactics, and daily 411’s from white men with trendy beards about California’s supposedly “reactionary” and “socialist” gun-laws. Youtube often recommends to me various advertisements, particularly for 2A paraphernalia or conservative think-tanks and legal groups. Not really my speed.

Hobbies are fun, and it’s fun to get involved with communities who feel the same way. But gun culture is its own beast, one I find myself in recurrent conflict with. A perverse sense of toxicity pervades this culture. It’s a male-dominated space, where weakness is vilified. You’ll hear talk of schooled liberals, corrupt congressmen, AOC, wolves and sheepdogs, bump stocks, and the simple invitation to “Come take it.”

All of that to say, my convictions in this sense are rather clear: too many people have died because we have done too little in being responsible with our beloved guns. Yet I often struggle with the contradiction, or dare I say hypocrisy, of my own making. Practically speaking, would I ever choose to own a gun? Even if it’s just for recreation? Would I dare tempt that? If I take human life to be sacred, is this an affront to my belief? As I said earlier, it’s easy to talk about these things in the abstract. Real-life circumstances are where ideals, hypotheses, and moralisms go to die, so I don’t know how much stock the statement “I am a pacifist” has, if any. But I know my own heart, and I’m lucky enough to know where it pulls. And, at least for the case of shooting guns at paper, it’s as good of a fact, conviction, or moral indictment as any.