Outsourcing our self-protection
by George Jonas
National Post
June 9, 2007
After last week's column -- entitled "For crooks, guns aplenty. For you and me, paperwork" -- a reader wrote to ask how I feel about keeping weapons for self defence. Glad you asked, sir. I guess I hold with the farmer who said: "I trust the law, but just in case the law's running a little late, I've also got the shotgun and this big dog in the yard."
I don't actually have a shotgun or a big dog, but that's because I don't have a yard either. I have some urban equivalents for my protection, which I consider doing my bit to save an intruder from prison. He won't be jailed for an intrusion he couldn't commit.
We've been discouraging people from protecting themselves for the last two generations, and as often as not we slap them with criminal charges when they do. I remember writing about an Ontario lady who, after successfully discouraging a would-be rapist, was charged with possession of an illegal can of mace. This was well over 20 years ago. Our grandparents used to be served in stores and at the gas pump, but were expected to take a hand in their own security. The modern position is that people should serve themselves in department stores and "service" stations, but look exclusively to the police for protection. Unless they themselves are the police.
I visited the home of a police chief in the 1970s. He lived in a big house outside metropolitan Toronto, and had a gun in every room of his home. He also had four or five healthy Dobermans that roamed the grounds freely at night.
"Gee, Chief," I said to him, "look at all these guns and dogs. Why don't you just run a direct line to your merry men?" "They can't fly," he replied, "as fast as a bullet."
I didn't blame the Chief for wanting to hang on to his life or to his silver, but it irked me that he didn't like the rest of us having similar ambitions. It was in an attempt to bring him around that I wrote an imaginary conversation between a big lawyer and a little old lady.
"Hi," says the little old lady. "I'm a little old lady and I'm charged with second-degree murder for shooting this strapping young man, but the nice judge gave me bail and told me to come and see you."
"Goodness, Granny," says the lawyer, "what happened?"
"Well, I was dozing in my chair," the old lady replies, "when this young man came in through the window to take the silver. So I said that he couldn't have the silver because Aunt Jesse left it to me, not to him." "Then what happened?"
"Well, I told him to go away because he was trespassing, and he laughed and said 'Make me, Granny,' and started packing up the silver. So I pushed him, and the big lug just pushed me back. Then I picked up the telephone, and he up and yanked the cord right out of the wall. Damaged the plaster, too."
"I see," the lawyer says. "So he was getting violent, and you were terrified..."
"Well, I was annoyed," replies the old lady, "I don't know if I was terrified. It'd take more than one young man to terrify me at my age."
"Sure you were terrified," says the lawyer. "You were afraid of death or grievous bodily harm. You kept backing up for a while, then you got Grandpa's gun and plugged him. Right? Don't worry, Granny, we'll get you off."
"Well, I don't know if I was backing up," says the old lady, "but I did pull this book off the shelf that says the Criminal Code of Canada. I wanted him to read the section that lets me remove a trespasser if I use no more force than necessary, or the one that says I can prevent someone from taking Aunt Jesse's silver. He said if he could be bothered to read books, he wouldn't have to be climbing through people's windows. So, that's when I got Grandpa's gun."
"Well, but Granny! That's a bit more force than necessary, isn't it?"
"Maybe for you, sonny, because you're a big lug yourself. But I'm a little old lady. I can't go toe to toe with strapping young men. For me, Grandpa's gun was exactly as much force as I needed to stop him."
"I don't know," says the big lawyer, shaking his head. "I think you experienced just an itsy-bitsy deadly fear, Granny. I hope you did, anyway, because it'll make our side feel a whole lot better in court.
"Canada's civilized, see? Here, only big men who can pick up a burglar and shake him like a kitten are entitled to keep their silver.
"Little old ladies or middle-aged shopkeepers had better let muggers have the run of their place. If they hurt you, we'll lock them up later. That's what being civilized means."
The big lawyer was sure about that. I'm not so sure.