For those working so hard to turn the tide on gun violence, we offer our gratitude
On each Sunday in July, the Tribune’s Opinion section has published original essays dealing with a problem that takes so much of our attention 12 months of the year: the scourge of gun violence in Chicago.
We hardly needed to reiterate the consequences of the status quo: Gun violence undermines Chicagoans’ sense of personal safety and traumatizes the city’s most vulnerable citizens, it hurts the city’s economy and, as anyone who has traveled to other countries well knows, it has tarnished this beautiful and widely loved city’s international reputation. As intractable as the problem seems, we have to find a solution together. And that is why we made so much room for these pieces.
If you read this four-part series again straight through, and we think you should, you’ll be struck by how many thoughtful Chicagoans from all walks of life are committed to working for this change. For some, it consumes almost every waking moment.
Like many problems with political and financial consequences, the world of crime and gun violence prevention has plenty of loud public voices with strong opinions, no bad thing in itself. But a lot of the most important work is done far more quietly, often in one-on-one settings when those involved are staring down the barrel of a gun — and we aren’t employing a metaphor there. Not all of the hardest workers in this field seek acknowledgment; in many cases, we reached out to solicit their views. But as we wrap up this series on these pages, we acknowledge them nonetheless.
We thank all our varied contributors, not just for the op-eds that have dealt so wisely and creatively with this issue, but for their work itself.
One conclusion flows out of almost every piece: Police cannot accomplish this mission by themselves. It is the job of the entire city. That message comes through forcefully from the faith leaders, social researchers, community leaders and anti-violence workers, as well as the law enforcement community.
Another certainty: As much as everyone seems to have their own theory, some more valid than others, sudden increases or declines in crime are easier to
One conclusion flows out of almost every piece: Police cannot accomplish this mission by themselves. It is the job of the entire city.
measure than to explain. That’s partly because public perceptions don’t always line up with the available data, and trends like a decline in crime may not be equally experienced by all communities.
Perceptions matter, even when they distort reality, two participants in our series observe.
David Olson and Don Stemen, professors of criminal justice and criminology who also are co-directors of the Center for Criminal Justice at Loyola University Chicago, say that too much focus on the weekly tallies of homicides and shootings leads to the widespread misperception that “crime is out of control” or “there is nothing that can be done.” Context always matters, the professors tell us. For example, despite the widely held perception that violent crime is increasing, the total number of serious violent crimes reported to police actually decreased almost every year from 2001 to 2022.
Perceptions matter because, while crime and public safety in Chicago are hardly new issues, more time is spent by many leaders and concerned citizens on reporting or complaining about the problems than seeking or finding practical solutions.
Which makes the essays by community violence intervention workers like Jason Little, an outreach worker with Chicago CRED on the city’s West Side, particularly valuable. A gripping story of resiliency, he survived a life hustling marijuana on the streets and near-fatal gunshot wounds to become a violence interrupter.
His organization tracks shootings and “beefs” that, thanks in part to social media amplification, quickly lead to shootings, and members visit gunshot victims and their families and share stories that can move young offenders away from the impulse to respond to violence with more violence — and self-destruction.
“I am no longer part of the problem,” he concludes. “I am part of the solution.”
We wish him well, along with others who are working to improve their lives against long odds, and we know that Little and other violence prevention workers would like to see others make the same commitment.
Little’s story, like so many others in the series, illustrates how hope not only can survive dire circumstances but also offer the sort of remedies that can be produced by those who care about shedding more light than heat.