Tuesday, February 10, around 1:20 p.m., shots rang out in the middle school of Tumbler Ridge, a small town of 2,300 inhabitants nestled in the Rockies, in British Columbia. In just a few minutes, this peaceful town in western Canada descended into horror.
The tranquility broken, the appearance of fear
Ten people lost their lives, twenty-seven others were injured, two of them seriously. The suspect, found dead in the establishment, allegedly killed himself. According to several media, the alleged perpetrator of the shooting is a woman, but the authorities have not yet officially confirmed her identity or her motivations.
In this isolated locality where “everyone knows each other”, astonishment dominates. Students remained barricaded for hours. The authorities spoke of a “terrible scene”. And many questions remain at this time. Beyond Canadian borders, the emotion was immediate.
So why does a tragedy that occurred thousands of kilometers away upset us so much?
When violence invades the place supposed to protect
For psychologist Amélie Boukhobza, the answer lies first and foremost in the symbol.
“A school is the place par excellence, supposedly safe. The one where we entrust our children. The one where we ourselves were children. So when violence enters there, the whole illusion of protection falters.”
The school is much more than a building. She embodies childhood, the future, transmission. It is supposed to be a sanctuary. When violence enters, it is our collective belief in a protected space that cracks.
Even if it’s far. Even if it’s not “home”.
“This type of drama touches on the archaic. The most primitive fear: not being able to protect.”
Faced with these images, our brain does not think in kilometers. He reacts alertly. From the moment it is possible somewhere, it becomes possible everywhere. The sense of control crumbles.
And the fact that the suspect may be a woman further accentuates the shock. Because it clashes with our usual representations of mass violence. “When reality no longer corresponds to the reassuring categories that we use to think about it, fear grows.”
The horror of reality… and our need to understand
These dramas also exert a form of fascination, however uncomfortable it may be.
“It’s disturbing, but it exists. An act of this magnitude confronts us with the unthinkable. With what psychoanalysis calls reality. The horror of reality.”
We want to understand. Find an explanation, a path, a flaw… As if putting words could contain the anguish. “We look for meaning. Like an attempt at mastery. We want to understand to reassure ourselves.”
How can a psyche shift to the point of turning violence against a school, against others, against life? This question haunts us because it touches on something uncontrollable.
The intimate echo of adolescence
Finally, these tragedies awaken something personal.
“They awaken our own school memories. Harassment. Exclusion. Loneliness. Teenage anger….”
School is the scene of our first belongings but also of our first humiliations. It is a fragile period, where identity is constructed under the gaze of others. Everyone has gone through this vulnerability. These tragedies come into conflict with this intimate memory.
A very contemporary concern
So of course, we can say that these shootings remain rare, especially in Canada. But they raise broader questions: youth violence, the radicalization of frustrations, psychological isolation.
And the massive media coverage raises questions. “Perhaps by showing so much, we take the risk of creating identifying models for already fragile subjects?”
Can the repetition of images fuel omnipotent fantasies in some people? And is this possible… closer to home?