Calling Alesha’s killer an evil monster can be just too easy

WHENEVER America suffers one of its periodic school or college shootings, Donald Trump highlights mental health issues to deflect from talking about gun crime.

I feel as though we do the same when we talk about “evil” killers. Indeed, Barack Obama went down this route describing the Orlando nightclub shootings as an “evil act”. But such condemnation is a dead end. It takes us nowhere, simply to a shrugging acceptance that these things will happen.

The Youtube clips of teenage murderer Aaron Campbell were taken down this week. The tech company said it was a mark of respect for the family of his victim, six year old Alesha Macphail.

I understand that but, in a way, I wish it hadn’t. While some videos saw Campbell playing violent computer games, others showed him on the trampoline or discussing a holiday in Spain. They are unremarkable, quite at odds with the narrative that he is a monster, an aberration, evil.

I’m not arguing that Campbell shouldn’t have been convicted. The judge, Lord Matthews, ahead of his sentencing next month, has already told Campbell he may never be released and I would not take much issue with this.

I do think there should always be some hope of rehabilitation, especially for someone so young. But I share the revulsion about Campbell’s actions, and the horror at the injuries inflicted on poor Alesha and the terrifying end he brought to her life. What I take issue with is the reaction which says, simply, Campbell is evil, a monster, who should rot in jail.

I do not recognise this concept of evil. One mother who knew Campbell at the age of two says she thought he was evil from the moment she saw him. She was quoted as saying he was like Damien from horror film The Omen, and she thought he was born that way. Do people really believe this concept that babies are “born evil”? I suppose some do. I think we have to try harder than that. What is evil? It is the absence of good but in an extreme way, a way which is transgressive. Author Susan Neiman, in her book Evil in Modern Thought, says calling something evil “is a way of marking the fact that it shatters our trust in the world”.

Another word which arises in relation to this is empathy – those whom we see as evil tend to lack it. Parents who beat or starve their children, youth leaders who exploit their position to abuse, those who abuse animals – these are the types we are quick to label as evil. But while dismissing horrific crimes as “evil” sounds like an explanation, it actually offers none at all. In fact it prevents us from seeking answers.

How does a teenager become a rapist and killer by the age of 16? It is almost as if we don’t want to know.

The malign influence of the internet and a fascination with the jaded “Slenderman” meme is cited, as are the violent video games Campbell played. Cannabis is mentioned in moralistic terms – though it is not a drug normally associated with murderous rage.

But tens of thousands of young Scots post video clips of a similar nature on Youtube. Many thousands use cannabis. Campbell seemed to have many advantages and was popular and able at school. What caused him to embark on his appalling crimes?

The word “evil” more or less brings such inquiry to an end. It allows us to turn our heads away from the difficult questions about our society and how it promotes violence.

Should we talk about neglect? I sit on Glasgow’s children’s panel and frequently see children who are the victims of horrific neglect. From the undernourished to the unvaccinated, from the girl who has a dozen decayed teeth removed by the age of 12, to the toddler unable to walk because for three years he has been left on the floor, strapped into a car seat. Then there are the children who have been abused, or witnessed one parent beating another, reckless as to whether they live or die.

Where a child’s behaviour is giving concern at a children’s hearing, there is always something behind it. Parental addiction, bereavement, bullying, abuse. There is no evidence Campbell was neglected, and I am not looking for an excuse for what he did on Bute last July. I am saying we should at least ask how he got there.

Former Conservative prime minister John Major once said society should “understand a little less and condemn a little more”, in relation to law and order.

Now the currency of “ludicrous things Conservatives say” has been somewhat debased in recent months. But this remains one of the stupidest sentiments ever aired by a senior politician. If we turn our back on understanding, we might as well give up.

What wider factors might contribute to some of the crimes by adults or young people which most horrify us? Do violent computer games drive young people off the rails, or is a culture in which digital devices are employed as de facto babysitters for many kids worth a closer look? Do benefit reforms contribute to stress, hopelessness and anger in the home? Does a desperate shortage of mental health care prevent us from giving people help, who need it?

When youth and beauty are fetishised in advertising and popular culture, does that contribute to sexual harassment? Should we do something about that?

Are children being desensitised to sexual or violent acts by things that they see online? Are some more vulnerable to this than others, and why? We should be asking these questions

Campbell’s crimes betray a lack of empathy, a disregard for the law and of social norms, and a failure to show remorse or guilt. How did this child of 16 come to be like that?

This is not special pleading on Campbell’s behalf. He is profoundly disturbed and a significant danger and I am glad his freedom is being taken away. It is a plea on behalf of the future, of other children, other families.

“Born evil” as a concept should be left in the horror movies. It is a plot device for lazy writers and lazy audiences. If we want to rewrite the script, we have to be prepared to dig deeper.

I am not looking for an excuse for what Campbell did on Bute last July. I am saying we should at least ask how he got there