Curing Chicago’s Disease: One Nonprofit’s Fight Against Gun Violence

At twelve years old, Demeatreas Whatley began carrying a gun. 

Charged with homicide at 17, he escaped conviction but was locked up six months later for a separate offense. He served a short sentence and returned to Woodlawn, his home neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago.

It wasn’t long before he again caught the attention of law enforcement and was faced with the prospect of a ten-year sentence. He could not escape punishment this time, but the prison term proved impactful. 

“When I was serving that time, that’s when I made my mind up. I can’t keep doing this. I have to do something different,” Whatley recalled. 

He decided that upon release, he would help the community, beginning with his family. But it was only when he arrived in Woodlawn that Whatley fully realized the damage of his actions. Overhearing a conversation between two young men, he became suddenly aware that they viewed him as a hero because of his crimes, not in spite of them. 

“And I was like, wow. I affected a generation that didn’t even know me. And I was sad. Really sad,” Whatley said, adding, “My best thinking got me ten years in prison. And that was my best thinking.” 

Whatley knew then that he needed to take a more hands-on approach to reducing the gun violence that ravaged his neighborhood. He soon began volunteering for a nonprofit dedicated to violence prevention in Chicago’s poorer communities—CeaseFire, now known as Cure Violence. 

Founded in 2000, Cure Violence views gun violence as a disease, and violent offenders as pathogens that should be identified and neutralized in a non-violent, non-punitive fashion. Whatley, a violence “interrupter,” works to resolve potential conflicts in the neighborhoods he has known for years, attempting to limit community members’ exposure to violent acts. 

The reasoning behind these interventions is based in hard science, according to Gary Slutkin, the nonprofit’s founder. Previously, Dr. Slutkin worked for years in Africa as an epidemiologist, treating outbreaks of infectious disease. Violence, in his opinion, is a health issue on par with a curable epidemic. 

“Violence behaves the same way as cholera, going from one person to another to another. Violence by cartels, violence by gangs, violence in a home, suicide, violence in war, antisemitism, anti-Muslim thinking and behavior. They’re all contagious processes,” Slutkin emphasized. 

And by all accounts, Chicago has suffered this disease for too long. In New York and Los Angeles, violent crimes have become more infrequent over the last few decades, but in Chicago the annual number of gun-related homicides remains high, despite a slight dip in recent years. Joblessness and poverty on Chicago’s South and West sides, and an influx of illegal weapons from neighboring states, have been blamed for the continued bloodshed. 

But for Whatley and Slutkin, the issue is mainly one of exposure. 

“One thing about having a gun, is that gives you the opportunity to use it,” Whatley explained. “That’s the first thing you think of. Everybody gets a gun, that’s the first thought. There’s no talking. There’s just talking about how to get a gun.” 

The accessibility of weapons, paired with a desire to assert dominance over rivals, encourages young people to always have firearms on hand. In Slutkin’s opinion, however, this behavior is primarily a matter of brain science, not good and bad actors. 

“The most important force there is in the brain, is the pressure of your peers,” Slutkin clarified. “You have groups doing what their other group members are doing. It doesn’t have anything to do with reasons.” 

“So, with these problem individuals, it’s not a question of rationality, but what they want to imitate. And you can interfere with that imitation,” he continued. 

The effect of Cure Violence’s interference appears to be positive, though the nonprofit’s success is largely dependent on the availability of city funding. According to a 2013 report released by the McCormick Foundation, the University of Chicago, and the University of Illinois at Chicago, Cure Violence caused a 31% greater decrease in killings, a 19% greater decrease in shootings, and a 1% greater decrease in all violent acts in the Woodlawn and North Lawndale communities between 2012 and 2013. 

However, should city funding decrease, the implementation of programs becomes more difficult. Whatley and the other interrupters are not volunteers, but paid workers. Budget cuts mean fewer interrupters, and fewer opportunities to nip violence in the bud. 

Slutkin stated that New York and Los Angeles have smoothly integrated the anti-violence programs into their city budgets, bolstering their effectiveness. But in Chicago, obstacles have arisen. 

“Chicago is an outlier. And the reason it’s an outlier is because the previous city and state government were refractory to thinking about [gun violence] this way or treating it this way,” he said. 

However, both Whatley and Slutkin believe that despite Cure Violence’s frustrations with city politics, police officers take no issue with the interrupters while on their patrols. 

“On the street level, especially the guys that I manage, it’s a positive relationship because CPD [Chicago Police Department] understands that we have a job to do and the staff knows CPD has a job to do,” Whatley explained. 

But if a high-risk individual catches the attention of the police and forces them to take action, there is little Whatley or his staff can do. Arrests will be made, but arrests alone cannot solve the problem. And without the cooperation of Chicago politicians and access to funding, Cure Violence’s future success may be limited. 

Fortunately, Chicago now has progressive leadership, Slutkin believes. 

Since taking office in May 2019, the current mayor of Chicago, Lori Lightfoot, has vowed to curb violence in her city. 

“We have been embarked on what I would call a proactive strategy that looks at our gun violence as a public health crisis which is what it is. That means we look at the root causes of the violence, that means 

we invest in neighborhoods, we re-stitch together our broken social safety nets,” Lightfoot said shortly after her election in an interview with CBS This Morning.

Lightfoot and her political allies, according to Slutkin, “want to get rid of this violence.” On the other hand, detractors claim she is all talk, and no bite. 

Regardless, despite the local administration’s best efforts, gun violence is likely to always occur in Chicago, though perhaps in a diminished capacity. In the short term, Slutkin and Whatley want to expand their reach, both in the city and across the world. 

“Right now we’re down to one site,” Whatley said, referring to the neighborhoods where he and other interrupters are deployed. “So my biggest thing going forward this year is to push for a couple more sites in Chicago.” 

But Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles are just the beginning of the story. 

“This has been replicated effectively around the world,” Slutkin said. “Mexico, Honduras, South Africa, Kenya. The real issue is getting those interrupters. They’re harder to access or harder to recruit. But the principles are the same.” 

“The vision of cure violence,” Slutkin concluded, “is a world in which violence is very rare. Our mission with that is to train and guide cities, countries, communities, and the international environment in the management of violence through these epidemic control measures.” 

Cure Violence’s success is proven, Slutkin’s thinking is sound, and Whatley’s passion is unquestionable. The main hurdle, it appears, is an overarching bureaucracy whose historical motives have been shadowy and, in the opinion of Cure Violence’s leaders, misguided.