by KRISTIAN GRAVENOR

Community. Community this, community that. If there’s one overused word that’s driven me to the brink of madness this year, it’s community. Although admittedly the term evokes a happy sense of togetherness and integration and for no known reason prompts me to think of singing Austrians.

The “c” word is magic. It has the power to elevate your little group beyond the nasty grasp of criticism. Everything is right in the world, all of your alienation is gone when you join. Only the heartless few would dare be so small-minded and mean-spirited to attack something so homey as a community.

And who wouldn’t want to commandeer such a gimmick? Advertisers use it to no end. The federal government uses it as a geographical term. I’ve never heard anybody use the word “community” as often as Westmount politician Karin Marks. She says it as if she’s Ricardo Montalban talking about Corinthian leather. She says community so often that she’ll make you forget that she’s a politician doing the bidding of the mansion millionaires; she’ll have you thinking she’s discussing a food drive for the homeless.

Montreal Urban Community. Community policing. Community recycling. Community education. Community service. Community care. I feel all warm and fuzzy just typing the word.

But there’s a problem with community as I learnt a few weeks ago when I sat down at a movie theatre with my kids. A guy who looked and dressed and talked like myself came to sit down near me with his kids. A white guy, like me, English too. He wears thick wool sweaters. I do on Sundays. But to my eternal disappointment my brother in 1,000 communities proceeds to become a total prick by talking out loud with his kids throughout the flick. Dilemma time: how could I dislike and oppose somebody who’s obviously a part of my community?

Or does one just shut up in the name of solidarity (another of my favourite terms) of the community?

In my case, I decided that I’m not a member of any community at all, but rather, a member of many sub-communities: my communities minus the bad members. So happy was I with this resolution that I yammered at the guy on the escalator and complained to the manager until they gave me three free tickets to a future film.

The need to recognize and reject the bad people in one’s community is painful yet necessary and essential to social justice, particularly in this, the city of communities in the country Joe Clark described as a community of communities.

For example, a year ago a black guy killed a black guy in a crowded bar, as many other black people watched. The mother of the victim asked me to try to convince community leaders to get others to turn in the killer. Some tried. Others hemmed and hawed and did nothing, presumably because they were unwilling to distinguish between good and bad community members. Meanwhile the killer remains at large.

Another example: when 14 female students were killed by a gunman in Montreal, some spoke of it as a collective act of the community of men against the community of women. Many men were outraged at the failure to distinguish their blameless activities from that of a mass murderer. Equating them with the actions of one man was about as logical and insulting as blaming all blacks for OJ, the men thought. Defensive shells were raised and bad feelings multiplied.

Some argued that the single most important element that raises our society over more brutal, primitive cultures is that we favour the rule of law over clan loyalty. It’s our decision to favour justice over clan or community that makes this place work. This is the reason that when your cousin knocks off the corner dépanneur you tell him to take responsibility for his actions rather than let him hide in your basement. Or at least I hope you do. :

Comments? kgravy@openface.ca