logo

The Charleston Shooter and the History of True Believers

Jun 20, 2015 | Extremism, Political Ideologies, Race and Racism, Salon.com

Published: Good Men Project (June 20, 2015)

Matthew Rozsa explains how terrorists justify their horrific actions and what we need to do to stop them.

___

I will only mention the name of the Charleston shooter once: Dylann Roof. And although I shall provide you with a few details about his biography, his identity can be aptly summed up with a single word: Terrorist. That is because a terrorist is, according to Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary, someone who “uses violent acts to frighten the people in an area as a way of trying to achieve a political goal.”

We have yet to receive any evidence that the Charleston terrorist was mentally ill, despite rampant speculation to that effect. Not all the information is in, but from what we do know (including from the terrorist himself), we can reasonably conclude that this was a desperate youth who found a sense of greater life purpose by subscribing to a racist ideology. He is a 21-year-old white man from Lexington, SC who attended White Knoll High School for less than two years before dropping out. Before then, he moved between at least three different school districts within a span of five years. He had already amassed a criminal record before the shooting in Charleston, and as Time Magazine reports, “in the picture featured on the Facebook page [attributed to the terrorist], he is wearing a jacket bearing images of the flags of apartheid-era South African and the Republic of Rhodesia, the name for Zimbabwe when it was run by a postcolonial white minority in the 1970s.”

That last detail is crucial if you want to provide meaningful context to its predecessors. The white supremacist belief system displayed by the Charleston terrorist revealed a lack of security not only in his own sense of self-worth, but even in the fundamental precepts underlying his sense of identity. He was the quintessential “true believer,” as defined by the philosopher Eric Hoffer in his classic sociological monograph of the same name. In his book, Hoffer notes that men and women who become extremists often have certain similar personality traits. They tend to view themselves as victims of some form of oppression, believe that they lack power within the existing social/cultural/political structure with which to improve their lives, and are thus likely to be converted to ideologies that offer simple solutions to the daunting problems which they face. This ideology can be rooted in economics, racial theory, or warped notions of individualism; it can take the form of religious, gender-based, or national chauvinism. The content matters far less than the personality type that is drawn to it—desiring attention, utterly irrational, filled with hate, and willing to sacrifice its own life so long as it can take innocents with it. More than anything else, this personality type is insecure – and that insecurity, though laughable when lampooned by the likes of South Park or Sacha Baron Cohen, can in a moment become deadly serious.

Like most white supremacists, the Charleston terrorist found comfort in the notion that his shortcomings were somehow the fault of a scapegoat (in this case, African Americans) rather than his own character. Had his hatred been limited to inner turmoil and the occasional message board outburst, he would have been as pathetic and harmless as the millions of other silent bigots who share his views (and occasionally his choice of target). Because he chose to lash out in an act of historic and terrible violence, he revealed himself to be something quite harmful (though no less pathetic).

Like most white supremacists, the Charleston shooter found comfort in the notion that his shortcomings were somehow the fault of a scapegoat (in this case, African Americans) rather than his own character. Had his hatred been limited to inner turmoil and the occasional message board outburst, he would have been as pathetic and harmless as the millions of other silent bigots who share his views (and occasionally his choice of target).

Think about it: Adolf Hitler, the ultimate example of a true believer, was riddled with insecurities stemming in no small part from having been rejected by a prestigious Austrian art school in favor of Jewish students. While the roots of Hitler’s anti-Semitism can be traced back long before that specific incident, the reality remains that his own sense of failure and inadequacy combined with an external culture of bigotry to breed the irrational hatred that wound up defining his legacy. If Hitler had been a responsible man, he would have recognized that the demons he believed could be found in the world really lurked within his own mind. A good man doesn’t simply have opinions – he makes sure to take responsibility for those opinions. This starts with openly associating his name with his views (something the Charleston terrorist was admittedly willing to do, although many of his online admirers are not), and continues with checking his own insecurities before allowing them to become the basis of a  hate-based philosophy. Because Roof was unable to take responsibility for his actions—because he refused to be a good man—he became a true believer, and the rest is history.

A good man doesn’t simply have opinions – he makes sure to take responsibility for those opinions. This starts with openly associating his name with his views (something the Charleston terrorist was admittedly willing to do, although many of his online admirers are not), and continues with checking his own insecurities before allowing them to become the basis of a hate-based philosophy.

Unfortunately it is a history that we are doomed to repeat, at least until we develop the courage to call our haters out. While most of us already know that Eric Hoffer is right, few are willing to endure the social discomfort of openly declaring that the Charleston terrorist and his milquetoast ilk are as transparent as a window. The latest little Fuhrer may have chosen the symbols of apartheid South Africa, but it would have made no difference if he had instead donned the Confederate Stars and Bars or the Nazi swastika or the Red Pill logo. For all intents and purposes, he was telling the world that he had given up on looking inward in an effort to better his own life. In lieu of wisdom, he found a “righteous” cause—and the world must yet again mourn the consequences.