It's been said before, by more articulate and authoritative voices than I, that the spread of evil owes less to the extremist zealotry of the few than it does to the listless apathy of the many. For example, this theory would suggest that the rise of the Nazis in Germany wasn't so much a result of Hitler's charisma or strong-arm tactics as it was the result of a general population that shrugged its collective shoulders as he consolidated power. The intimate personal lesson we're supposed to draw is that, when we ignore or dismiss hate and violence, we're not much better than those who commit it.
But two recent situations from my own life have illustrated, to me at least, why this moral rule that makes perfect sense in the abstract is extraordinarily difficult to abide by in specific, real-life cases. In one of these instances, I decided to respond in some fashion. In the other, I didn't. But was I right in either case?
Case #1:
Last week while doing laundry, I witnessed a parenting display that twisted my stomach into knots. While doing her laundry, a relatively young mother was occasionally interrupted by one or both of her young children (both aged five or under, I'd guess), who were understandably bored but were quite well-behaved considering their dull surroundings. Not well-behaved enough for this mom, though. After crabbily urging her kids to leave her alone a few times, the woman snapped, berating one of the little ones with the words, "For fuck's sake, why don't you go sit down."
Swearing in the presence of children is a pet peeve of mine. I hate when people do it, in part because I feel bad for the parents who are put in the uncomfortable situation of having to either pretend it didn't happen, raise an embarrassing scene or explain to their kids what the bad words mean. But in this case it was the mother who made me feel uncomfortable. It occurred to me that if this was how she treated her children when they were all in public, she may well be even more abusive, or even violent, in the privacy of their home. I wondered if I should say something to her, report her to some authority (Children's Aid? The cops?) or simply shake my head and ignore her. I chose the last. But my stomach is still in knots about it.
Case #2
This case, which happened this morning, was even more alarming. As my bus was about to leave from the stop where I boarded, an elderly Asian woman shuffled up to the door and started banging on it, hoping the bus driver would stop. He did, but not before bellowing "Fuck off. Get the next one." The woman was still outside when he said this, so she couldn't hear it, but a busload of bystanders certainly did. And then it got worse. When the woman came aboard, the driver turned around and quite loudly asked her if she was in a rush because she was "on her way to a big rice sale or something." My girlfriend and I were both on the bus at the time, and our jaws hit the floor so hard they nearly activated the doors-open system.
In this case, however, I called the Toronto Transit Commission and registered a complaint about the driver, explaining exactly what had happened. Of course, I don't know whether anything will end up happening to him. And I'm not sure what exactly I would want to happen to him. Should he be fired (as he certainly would be from pretty much any other job for that kind of conduct), or should he simply be scolded? Will his own racial identity - he was a young black man - have any bearing in terms of how his behaviour is judged and punished? Did it have any impact on my own reaction?
In one case, I chose silence. In the other, I chose action. Quite honestly, I can't say that either was terribly satisfying. I still don't know how to respond in situations where strangers say hateful things to other strangers. I still don't know when and to what degree I have a moral obligation to intervene - and when I should mind my own business. I'm still skeptical about whether I can make a difference.
I do know that it's depressing to hear such hatefulness expressed so openly. I do know that it makes me and most bystanders incredibly uncomfortable. But if it's true that apathy is the ally of evil, then we have a duty to respond. And if we can't do it when the hate is out in the open, what hope do we have of extinguishing the hate that burbles, unspoken and bitter, under the floorboards of society?
www.arrowsplitter.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment