Recalling April 29, 1992: violence as a way of life

Recalling April 29, 1992: violence as a way of life

By Susan Evans

Three years ago this week, our city’s streets exploded into
violence. But what can one possibly say about the Los Angeles Riots
that has not already been said?

That they represented yet another chapter in our nation’s
on-going saga of violent racial relations that continually serve to
define what it means to be an American? That they symbolized, in
sharp relief, the racial hatred and discord that simmers just below
the seemingly calm exteriors of our city, threatening to erupt at a
moment’s notice and tear apart at the seams the entire social
fabric of our nation? That they were a tragedy? A disgrace? A
necessary cathartic release?

While it is certainly important that we consider the larger
social, cultural and political issues that the riots embraced, it
is equally critical that we probe personal remembrances and
recollections of the riots so that we can add a more human
dimension to our understanding of the past.

So what do I remember most about the riots? I remember the sound
of sirens. I remember the smell of smoke. I remember watching
nervous young TV reporters in their high heels and nicely pressed
shirts tell us that our city was burning. I remember the
violence.

And now, three years later, where are we as both Angelenos and
Americans? Sure, the wounds of our city may have healed, but has
the underlying illness of our nation truly disappeared? Has our
propensity for violence, hatred and random acts of evil and
destruction diminished? Or has it simply moved to a new venue,
donning a different guise?

Given the recent atrocities that ripped though Oklahoma City
last week, the answer seems clear to me. Once again I have been
reminded, as I was with the Los Angeles riots, of just how violent
America has become.

Now, I am not trying to draw any connection between the 1992
riots in Los Angeles and what happened in Oklahoma last week, other
than that both events belie a fundamental breakdown in the moral
order of our nation. That someone could violently and deliberate1y
hurl a brick into the face of a fellow human being is just as evil
(albeit on a smaller scale) as blowing up a building of innocent
children and adults.

Violence, it seems, is no longer simply a serious social
problem. It has become an American institution: a way of life.

What is most frightening about this brand of violence, however,
is that it is totally arbitrary. It comes with no advance warning.
It needs no provocation. It can happen anywhere. Anytime. To
anyone. And there is nothing that you can do to prevent it, short
of locking yourself up in your home and throwing away the key. And
even that won’t save you.

Living in a free society they say, has its price. And that price
may just be your life. It makes one wonder if it is really such a
good deal after all.

So, what do I remember most about the riots? I remember the
violence. And I remember that they were just another instance of
human hatred, evil and violence that seems to have become the
calling card of this land that I call my home.

Evans is a UCLA alumnus.