The world is full of “crazy” people. What are we going to do about it?

Jared Loughner (Photo credit: The Associated Press)

I hate the mis- and overuse of the word “crazy”. Not only because it’s linguistically lazy (like listlessly referring to something as “interesting”), but because it’s inherently demeaning to the untold numbers of people suffering silently and invisibly from debilitating mental illness.

Jared Loughner, the (alleged) perpetrator of the shooting rampage in Tucson over the weekend, was indisputably one of these people, based upon his online rants that bear the terrifying hallmark of someone suffering from paranoid schizophrenia.

Earlier today, police engaged in an hours-long standoff in downtown Toronto with a man suffering from bipolar disorder; meanwhile, the RCMP continue to investigate the “violent tendencies” of James Roszko, who surely was suffering from some severe form of antisocial personality disorder (though we’ll never know, as he killed himself years ago, shortly after killing four Mounties).

It’s supremely unfair, of course, to lump these three incidents together; two involved multiple murders of public officials, while the other was merely a misunderstanding over a man dancing in the street. But then, most characterizations of the mentally ill (either as a group, or as individuals) tend to lean towards the supremely unfair.

For instance, several websites have published a cutesy little animation which re-imagines Queen Street West in Toronto as a Super Mario-esque video game. Innocuous and creative fare, generally. But listen very closely between 4:45 and 5:12:

Yes, it’s a MIDI rendition of Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train. Now, sure, if anyone’s “earned” the right to use the word “crazy”, it’s probably ol’ Ozzy. But the tune’s placement is no coincidence — the pixelated building in the background is the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health, whose self-described mandate is “to help transform the lives of people affected by mental health and addiction issues.”

Now, I’m not inferring or implying any malice on the part of the animation’s creator against CAMH or the mentally ill. But this is one small sample of how mentally illness is often treated as a seemingly comedic, sideline issue — even though its impacts are often felt far beyond those suffering from the diseases.

Of course, sometimes people with mental-health issues do find themselves in the spotlight in a positive manner. Last week, the Internet — and, mere hours later, the general news cycle — became dominated by the story of Ted Williams. You remember Ted, right?

Ted’s life, as you probably know, was severely sidetracked by his addiction to drugs and alcohol. Drug addiction, as you may know, is considered a mental disorder by the American Psychiatric Association. But in Williams’s case, he made good for himself, so his relation to the disorder is referred to as a “struggle” or a “battle“… unless, of course, the story emphasizes his dalliances with crime, in which case we see reference to his “drug abuse“.

(See the difference? Nice, cleaned-up homeless guy with a cool voice: victimized by addiction. Dirty, deviant homeless guy in mugshots: active, intentional abuser of narcotics.)

Again, I’m not accusing any particular media outlet of having an agenda, or attempting to make too much of rather tenuous links between unconnected stories/writers. But generally speaking, mental illness (and those suffering from it) are treated very differently depending on the nature of their story: they’re villains, or buffoons, or pieces of furniture meant to be ignored, or occasionally gawked at.

Though the exact numbers are difficult to discern, most studies on the matter have shown concrete links between mental illness (including addiction and personality/cognitive disorders) and the risk of homelessness.

Similarly, I’d contend that anyone who commits an act of premeditated murder is suffering from something you’d find in the DSM — though I don’t say this to either absolve people like Loughner of their (alleged) actions, nor to cast aspersions on all sufferers of mental illness based on the grotesque actions of a few. I say this only to make the point that, if the right mental-health resources were available, it’s possible that rampages such as this past weekend’s could have been prevented.

But what comes of this information? Tragically, not enough.

Urbanites complain about the “plight” of homelessness, as if those whose consciences are momentarily tugged upon are the real victims, not the people who live in abject squalor beneath the public’s feet. But then pedestrians look the other way, literally and figuratively.

People (rightly) react with shock and surprise when massacres such as the shooting at Rep. Giffords’s public event happen… even if warning signs about the (alleged) perpetrator were ringing loud and clear.

Once all the political bluster and finger-pointing about the Tucson shooting die down, do you think the incident will prompt a serious discussion about what needs to be done to prevent future atrocities like his?

It’s doubtful. But it needs to happen.

Now, to be fair, no amount of money poured into mental-health research and care will ever stop all instances of mental-illness-induced violence, or completely eradicate poverty among the mentally ill. But it will help. The most sensible way to address the root cause of the Tucson massacre is not to blame political figures. It’s to invest into the health system in such a way that mental health is considered just as important as other forms of healthcare.

It’s not an easy ask. The disorders, and the people suffering from them, are generally invisible — that is, until they burst into the public consciousness, either for good (Williams) or for bad (Loughner).

But if it all seems like a gigantic, unsolvable quandary, take heart: There is a simple step you can take to help be part of the solution.

Reconsider your usage of the word “crazy”.

If you find yourself or other using it callously, take a second to think about what you really mean. Think about the people suffering from indescribable horrors of their own mind, and think about what might be done to better serve their needs — not only for their benefit, but for the ultimate good of us all.

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