the heart stirs — selectively
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Most of us would do anything we could to help and comfort the victims of last week's terrorist bombings in London. Millions of us opened our hearts and our wallets to the victims of last winter's tsunami in South Asia.
Yet we are not stirred to urgent action by the fact that a member of the human race dies of malnutrition every 3.6 seconds; a life is lost to AIDS every 14 seconds; a child in Africa succumbs to malaria and a woman somewhere in the world dies in pregnancy or childbirth every 30 seconds.
Nor are our consciences rubbed raw by the poverty and despair that stalk Canada's aboriginal people.
It is impolitic to mention this hierarchy of compassion in the aftermath of a heart-rending disaster. People want reassuring rituals, not perplexing moral questions. But moments like this, when empathy seems second nature, provide an opening to think about the nature of generosity.
Why do some tragedies compel us to respond and others allow us to turn away?
Rita Karakas, chief executive officer of Save the Children Canada, believes the determining factor is our ability to visualize ourselves as victims. Most Canadians can imagine themselves being caught in a bus or subway car in a terrorist attack. Similarly, they can see themselves on a South Seas beach, enjoying the holiday of a lifetime, when a killer wave strikes.
But they have difficulty envisioning themselves dying of hunger or untreated AIDS. They can't picture themselves living in a wretched displaced persons camp in Darfur or a hope-starved native reserve in Northern Ontario. Karakas' years fighting child poverty have convinced her that donors need to be able to connect, in some visceral way, with those they are helping.
Amir Attaran, an immunologist and lawyer who serves as Canada Research Chair in Law, Population Health and Global Development Policy at the University of Ottawa, believes the critical factor in shaping our response to suffering is media exposure. When a crisis receives sustained and compelling press coverage, as the London bombings and the South Asian tsunami did, there is an outpouring of sympathy and assistance, he says. When the media don't pay attention, even though the death toll may be much greater, people are largely indifferent. "I lament this all the time," he says.
Art Van Seters, principal emeritus of Knox College at the University of Toronto, offers a third, and more unsettling explanation, of why we sometimes reach out to those in need but often don't. He believes it comes down to a question of blame. If the victims are clearly not at fault — as in the case of a natural disaster or a terrorist attack — we rush to their aid. If we consider the sufferers to be responsible, in some way, for their hardship — as many Canadians do in the case of poverty or AIDS — we hold back.
"The whole notion of desert is the subtext," he says.
It troubles Van Seters, as a theologian, that we (subconsciously in some cases) divide the needy into the worthy and the unworthy. Our judgment, he contends, is skewed by the misperception that our privileges are earned and the hardship into which others are born is merited. "We need to discuss these questions and look at our sub-surface motives," he says.
It's a lot to ask at a time when many of us are feeling anxious and vulnerable.
But if not now, when?
Most of us would do anything we could to help and comfort the victims of last week's terrorist bombings in London. Millions of us opened our hearts and our wallets to the victims of last winter's tsunami in South Asia.
Yet we are not stirred to urgent action by the fact that a member of the human race dies of malnutrition every 3.6 seconds; a life is lost to AIDS every 14 seconds; a child in Africa succumbs to malaria and a woman somewhere in the world dies in pregnancy or childbirth every 30 seconds.
Nor are our consciences rubbed raw by the poverty and despair that stalk Canada's aboriginal people.
It is impolitic to mention this hierarchy of compassion in the aftermath of a heart-rending disaster. People want reassuring rituals, not perplexing moral questions. But moments like this, when empathy seems second nature, provide an opening to think about the nature of generosity.
Why do some tragedies compel us to respond and others allow us to turn away?
Rita Karakas, chief executive officer of Save the Children Canada, believes the determining factor is our ability to visualize ourselves as victims. Most Canadians can imagine themselves being caught in a bus or subway car in a terrorist attack. Similarly, they can see themselves on a South Seas beach, enjoying the holiday of a lifetime, when a killer wave strikes.
But they have difficulty envisioning themselves dying of hunger or untreated AIDS. They can't picture themselves living in a wretched displaced persons camp in Darfur or a hope-starved native reserve in Northern Ontario. Karakas' years fighting child poverty have convinced her that donors need to be able to connect, in some visceral way, with those they are helping.
Amir Attaran, an immunologist and lawyer who serves as Canada Research Chair in Law, Population Health and Global Development Policy at the University of Ottawa, believes the critical factor in shaping our response to suffering is media exposure. When a crisis receives sustained and compelling press coverage, as the London bombings and the South Asian tsunami did, there is an outpouring of sympathy and assistance, he says. When the media don't pay attention, even though the death toll may be much greater, people are largely indifferent. "I lament this all the time," he says.
Art Van Seters, principal emeritus of Knox College at the University of Toronto, offers a third, and more unsettling explanation, of why we sometimes reach out to those in need but often don't. He believes it comes down to a question of blame. If the victims are clearly not at fault — as in the case of a natural disaster or a terrorist attack — we rush to their aid. If we consider the sufferers to be responsible, in some way, for their hardship — as many Canadians do in the case of poverty or AIDS — we hold back.
"The whole notion of desert is the subtext," he says.
It troubles Van Seters, as a theologian, that we (subconsciously in some cases) divide the needy into the worthy and the unworthy. Our judgment, he contends, is skewed by the misperception that our privileges are earned and the hardship into which others are born is merited. "We need to discuss these questions and look at our sub-surface motives," he says.
It's a lot to ask at a time when many of us are feeling anxious and vulnerable.
But if not now, when?
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posted by þΛųL jØŋαŦhΛŋ @ 09:45
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