Common Security

In our new home in downtown Toronto, we live walking distance from a cinema. It has become our new Friday night custom to take in the early show, other things being equal. Last month, things weren’t equal.

As we strolled hand-in-hand behind the Bay, I saw a 1970 Dodge convertible make a slow and deliberate three point turn. It was being maneuvered with the stately efficiency only a senior citizen would value as it headed on a certain path toward a parking space on our side of the street. Somewhere in between points two and three, a dark, lone figure appeared on the horizon. Headphones, hooded sweatshirt, baggy shorts and one leg rooted to a skateboard, he flamingoed his way toward us. Neither his speed nor his trajectory altered as he headed for the intersection of the convertible’s tire and the city’s curb. The senior driver knew nothing until the intruder thumped on his car. The road had been clear last time he checked. As he completed his automotive pirouette, the one legged boarder was boarded and exploded with rage. He picked up his transportation and smashed it with all his weight through the passenger side window. The driver was torn between rage and protectiveness. Even while he yelled out he was sprawled across the back seat protecting his three year old Afghan hound from the shards of shattered glass.

Police were called and the movie missed as we tried to calm the dog. The driver chased the boarder to no avail and received some medical attention from a passing paramedic. The police called back the next day since, in Toronto on a Friday night, they only respond to gun calls.

One week later, I was walking home from the grocery store early on a weekday evening. Heavy bags and construction rubble are a bad combination if you’re not paying close attention, and I wasn’t. Ass over tea kettle is the expression my father used to use. When I stopped rolling, the groceries were spread over five square metres and my hands and knees scraped raw. It took a good five minutes to re-assemble my self and my belongings. When I resumed my journey I passed two parked cars, each with drivers – one on a cell ‘phone and one doing nothing. It took me another block to realize they had witnessed my collapse and stayed rooted to their seats, refusing to acknowledge my distress. What combination of fear, inattention and indifference kept them distanced from my plight?

There are some in our society who claim that there is a direct relationship between how much money we spend on police and how secure we are. I hold a different view. Police play a necessary but small role in the security of our society. What is far more important is the security we hold in common. I invest in the security of my community when I respond to the senior citizen who has been victimized. He started out a stranger and became a friend. The frozen witnesses to my own accident refused to invest in common security because they refused to invest in community. We were strangers in the beginning and strangers in the end. If we want to be more secure, what we need are not more heavily armed police but stronger communities.

First Published in November 2004