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Count me in: Let's test the power of anonymity

The less the public knows about mass killers, the better off we’ll all be.

SO YESTERDAY'S lockdown was the result of two young men having a dispute. There was no lone deadeye gunman on a mission to pick off strangers at Community College of Philadelphia.

And everyone exhaled a sigh of relief. That's how low the bar has fallen when it comes to Americans and our homegrown terrorists: We feel grateful when a mass-killing gun scare turns out to be a run-of-the-mill gun scare.

That's because we prefer our gun victims to die one at a time, not all at once. It lets us keep whistling in the dark a tune about how, if we just keep our noses straight and make good decisions, we'll avoid the tragedy that bullets bring to those who aren't as careful as the rest of us.

Except that these mass shootings - random and terrifying - keep piling up. And we're seeing that a gun victim who dies in a bloody classroom is just as dead as a gun victim who dies alone on a dark corner or while playing with an unlocked Ruger left in a sock drawer.

So maybe we ought to get serious about keeping all potential victims safe in the first place.

Just wanted to get that off my chest.

Because yesterday's incident at CCP didn't lead to mass carnage as we saw at Umpqua Community College last week in Oregon, those of us who work in American newsrooms didn't need to debate whether and how to name a gunman or tell his story.

There never used to be a debate, by the way. We just scrambled to spell his name right, find a photo of the guy and coax answers from his reeling kin about what could've prompted him to do such a thing.

But in chronicling who he'd been before turning the gun on himself - that's how these sprees usually end - we make him infamous. And for some loners and losers, an infamous death trumps a miserable life any day.

But if the media would only deny him infamy, a new argument goes, the shooter wouldn't inspire the next gunman to go out in a blaze of bloody glory, too.

Because what's the point of taking out a whole movie theater if no one gives you props for it?

That's the reasoning behind No Notoriety!, a grass-roots movement started by loved ones of those killed in mass shootings. Its motto is: "No name. No photo. No notoriety." Or at least nothing beyond a dispassionate mention that won't push aside more important stories about a gunman's victims.

The Umpqua shooter (whose name I won't mention because I'm giving this no-notoriety thing a try) had blogged about the former Roanoke TV reporter (also nameless here) who murdered two former colleagues on live TV in August.

"I have noticed that people like him are all alone and unknown, yet when they spill a little blood, the whole world knows who they are," he wrote. "Seems the more people you kill, the more you're in the limelight."

Which is maybe how the Umpqua shooter got inspired to shoot his own way onto center stage.

On the face of it, No Notoriety! seems like a practice that journalists should run from, screaming.

We shouldn't be in the business of withholding information that the public has the right to know, parsing over facts as if we're parents protecting our babies from something they can't handle. Hell, we rightfully go ballistic on public officials who withhold public information. So the last thing we should do is appoint ourselves the new gatekeepers.

It's pedantic and dangerous.

On the other hand, the media have been willing to shift the way we report on other stories that we've come to believe deserve a more sensitive touch.

We no longer identify by names the victims of rape or sexual assault, for example. As journalist Helen Benedict points out in her 1992 book Virgin or Vamp: How the Press Covers Sex Crimes, "To name a rape victim is to guarantee that whenever somebody hears her name, that somebody will picture her in the act of being sexually tortured. To expose a rape victim to this without her consent is nothing short of punitive."

And the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention has successfully lobbied media outlets to dial back the sensationalism - no gory death-scene photos, no florid descriptions of the manner of demise - when reporting a suicide. That's to help prevent acts of suicide contagion, which studies have shown is a real thing.

If more thoughtful, measured reporting of mass killings - reporting that focuses more on the victims and heroes than on the shooter - reduces the likelihood of copycat acts in the future, as No Notoriety! research says it does, why shouldn't we take that knowledge to heart? And report accordingly?

No Notoriety! has asked reporters to sign on to their mission. So from now on, I'm in. It's not just the appropriate and responsible thing to do. It's also kind to the right people for the right reasons.

For an industry whose credo has always been "Afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted," the No Notoriety! campaign just makes sense.

Email: polaner@phillynews.com

Phone: 215-854-2217

On Twitter: @RonniePhilly

Blog: ph.ly/RonnieBlog

Columns: ph.ly/Ronnie