Julia Rady is a historian who works in Toronto in the heritage conservation field.
Reports of violent incidents on Toronto’s transit system have increased alarmingly in the past year. So too has the city’s recently proposed budget, which provides more funding for the Toronto police and special constables to address the violence and restore safety for TTC riders.
Unfortunately, this money will only affect the ability of law enforcement officials to react to violence. It will not provide a means through which we can address the causes or circumstances that might lead one person to hurt another.
We need more empathy and social support in addition to safety measures – perhaps a surprising perspective coming from a person who was herself hurt on the TTC. Last month while I was on my way to work, I went about my morning commute as I always had: aware of my surroundings and others, and reasonably convinced of my safety. While reading my book and listening to the radio, however, this safety was suddenly punctured. Another passenger violently hit me on the forehead with enough force that my nose started to bleed. That’s the thing with random violence: It is unpredictable, and it does not discriminate.
Since my assault, I have been billed for co-payment of my ambulance ride to the hospital where I received necessary stitches. I have seen the media coverage, the videos and the accounts from fellow passengers. I have not seen any outreach. No one in Toronto’s municipal government or the TTC – not even a caseworker for assault victims – has followed up to see how I was doing or whether I was healing.
If this is the paltry response I get as a victim, it stands to reason that my assailant has received even less. I can only wonder at what little mental-health or social support they have received after being charged, rightfully, for the assault.
And therein lies a strong clue as to what’s wrong with our system. We move on too quickly and throw money at reactive measures, while the actual problems are left to fester. The alleged attacker was caught – and so, to many, everything has been resolved. Case closed! But nothing could be further from the truth. There is no quick fix. My story is just one of many that reveals the systemic failure of our social infrastructure, and the ways in which we need to redirect our energies, efforts and money toward social programming and mental-health supports.
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When the pandemic struck, scientists began to develop vaccines. They focused on figuring out what caused the virus to mutate, spread and take hold, rather than just looking for immediate cures. And as a historian, I do not merely look at what happened during and after a historical event; I wade through nuanced evidence, multiple perspectives and the broader context to better understand ourselves through the study of our past. Why do we take a different approach when it comes to our society?
Media coverage tends to focus on the immediate tragedy of such violence, or on calls for greater accountability from elected officials to “fix” it. Such violent incidents typically prompt authorities to rely on hindsight, to play the blame game concerning what went wrong and to issue bland statements of remorse. Approaches that address the broader, multifaceted and underlying issues that contribute to these breakdowns in society receive far less attention.
If we did try to broaden our perspectives, we might be forced to confront issues and traumas deeply rooted in our failure to meet the needs of marginalized people, and a system where a lack of support allows insecurity and mental illness to grow. People are hurting, and they are hurting others. Sorting out why requires taking a longer view, and asking ourselves how we can mitigate these problems, even if such measures require patience and time.
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I am lucky. I have had access to tremendous personal support and mental-health resources; I have the ability to express myself about what happened, and I have people upon whom I can rely to help me recognize if and when I need more help. Despite the attack, I remain privileged: in my access to supports, in my education, in my job and in my life. The pain that erupts around us will not abate until everyone is able to access the same level of support, and the same network of love and compassion. Resources must be better directed to create a stronger and more accessible infrastructure.
I remain deeply grateful to the many strangers who paused their day to help me: those who stepped into harm’s way to assist me, who waited patiently and calmly until emergency services arrived, and who made sure I was looked after. I wish I could thank them properly. In these people, I see so much hope for what could be for our society. In that moment of brutality, humanity showed up.
We can hold in our hands both the ugly and the beautiful. We can acknowledge the flaws in our society’s systems and still believe those systems are capable of good. We can react to the violence in the short term, but we must also look deeper and, crucially, act to address the causes of that violence. It need not be one or the other. Our humanity can shine through and carry the day.