There's a narrative gaining traction in criminal justice circles that transit violence, street violence, and random public attacks represent some new, inevitable feature of American life. We are told these incidents are essentially random, essentially unpredictable, and essentially unfixable. This trend is being sold as inevitable. It deserves more skepticism than it is getting.
The framing is seductive because it absolves everyone. Police can't predict random violence. Prosecutors can't prevent it. The mental health system isn't equipped for it. Transportation agencies aren't responsible for it. And the public? They're simply victims of bad luck. Resign yourself. Buy pepper spray. Avoid the red line at certain hours.
This narrative emerges whenever we see headlines about unprovoked attacks on transit systems, violent outbursts in public spaces, or sudden escalations that seem to come from nowhere. The implication is always the same: this is the new normal, and we should accept it.
But acceptance of inevitability is a choice, not a fact. And it's a choice that conveniently benefits people and institutions that would rather not be held accountable for prevention.
Let's be clear about what we actually know and what remains assumption. Yes, some violent incidents occur with little warning. Yes, mental health crises and substance abuse play documented roles in certain public violence cases. Yes, some attackers are genuinely difficult to identify before they act. These are real challenges.
What's not inevitable is the conclusion that we should stop trying.
The "it's random and unpredictable" framing collapses under modest scrutiny. Many violent offenders have prior contacts with police, mental health systems, or both. Many display escalating patterns before major incidents. Many operate within identifiable geographic areas or along specific transit corridors during specific times. These are not random variables. They are data points that could theoretically inform prevention strategies, enhanced monitoring, or intervention protocols.
Instead of mining this information systematically, we're told violence is essentially atmospheric. Just part of living in a city.
This serves several institutional interests. It serves law enforcement agencies that face criticism for what they didn't prevent. It serves mental health providers who lack resources and want to avoid the stigma of involuntary intervention. It serves transportation agencies that would rather spend money on customer experience than security infrastructure. It serves elected officials who can claim violent crime is a force of nature, not a policy failure.
What it doesn't serve is anyone victimized by the violence itself.
Consider the practical implications of accepting "inevitability." If attacks are random and unpredictable, there's no point demanding better threat assessment at transit hubs. If violence is unpreventable, there's no rationale for enhanced monitoring of individuals with histories of violent behavior. If commuters getting stabbed is just statistical variance, why improve lighting, camera placement, or security presence?
The "it's inevitable" framing is, in other words, a policy position disguised as reality.
Better questions would be: Why do some transit lines experience higher incident rates? Why do certain individuals cycle through violence repeatedly? What intervention points existed before each major incident? What would systematic prevention actually cost compared to the economic impact of violence itself?
These questions demand work. They demand accountability. They demand admitting that some incidents might have been preventable with different choices, different resources, or different strategies.
The inevitability narrative avoids all of that. It's the intellectual equivalent of shrugging while someone bleeds.
Public safety will never be perfect. Some violence will always occur. But the gap between "we can't eliminate all violence" and "violence is inevitable so we shouldn't try" is enormous. That gap is where cynicism and institutional convenience thrive.
Before accepting that random attacks on commuters or in public spaces are simply the price of urban life, demand evidence. Demand specificity. Demand to know what interventions were actually attempted and why they failed, rather than accepting the comfortable assumption that they never could have worked.
The skepticism should be directed not at prevention efforts, but at the people selling us on the inevitability of failure.