Pigeon beyond caring

I saw a pigeon today that looked exactly how I felt. I was struck by its utterly miserable expression and decided to take a photograph. Not wanting to frighten it, I edged slowly closer for a better shot. But this pigeon was beyond caring. It sat in a state of complete dejection, not even blinking. It reminded me of Michael McIntyre’s joke about suicidal city pigeons.

After taking the picture, I continued my walk, pondering the peculiar traits of modern life.

We had visitors staying with us last week, and on one of the buses back from Valletta there was an accident right in front of us. A middle-aged woman had been struck on the head, either by the bus itself or by its wing mirror. The driver immediately got out to call the police and an ambulance while we sat helplessly on the crowded bus.

What shocked me most was not the accident itself but the reaction of so many passengers. They instinctively reached for their mobile phones and hurried to the front window to photograph the injured woman. There was pushing and shoving as people jostled to get the best view. It made me wonder how many dying victims spend their last conscious moments staring into a forest of mobile phones pointed in their direction as they bleed on the pavement. Too often, onlookers seem more interested in capturing the drama than in staying out of the way of those trying to help.

I cannot pretend complete innocence. My own weakness is different. I sometimes watch those social experiment videos on YouTube where someone pretends to assault someone to see whether passers-by intervene. It is depressing to discover how few do. Of course, some of those videos may themselves be staged, with actors playing the roles of rescuers and bystanders. Yet not all are fake, and occasionally such experiments have gone badly wrong, with real injuries and genuine danger.

Perhaps the common thread is that we have become spectators and recorders rather than active participants. Often there are perfectly understandable reasons for hesitating. We ask ourselves: Have I misunderstood the situation? Is someone else already dealing with it? If nobody else is acting, perhaps I shouldn't either.

It reminds me of a famous psychology experiment. A waiting room is full of people while, in an adjoining office, a secretary is typing. Suddenly there is the sound of someone climbing a stepladder, followed by a loud crash and the cries of a woman calling for help.

When the waiting room is crowded, remarkably few people get up to investigate. Most look uncomfortable, glance nervously at one another, and wait to see how everyone else reacts.

Yet repeat exactly the same experiment with only one person in the waiting room, and that individual almost always rushes to the office door to offer assistance.

Our humanity is still there. Somehow, though, when responsibility is shared among many people, it seems to evaporate. Psychologists call it the bystander effect. Responsibility becomes diluted until, collectively, no one feels responsible at all.

No wonder that pigeon looked so miserable. It probably realised that if it collapsed on a crowded pavement, the one thing it could rely on was not compassion, but becoming another photo opportunity for some passing idiot.

Getting over hurdles and not under them

It was the opening of the Baha’i terraces on Mount Carmel in Haifa in May 2001. Only 19 would be chosen from each country to attend. My sons were both teenagers in Greece at the time and were lucky enough to both be chosen. Youth were a priority and hence their selection for this wonderful event. As always with such great opportunities comes great challenges. My husband was knocked off his scooter and fractured his back entailing hospitalisation and months of recovery. The second setback was as the boys were under age they could not travel alone and would need to have a guardian appointed to travel with them. Fortunately, our dear friend Ursula from Rhodes volunteered to be their guardian as she was also one of the 19 representing the Greek Baha’i community. This was a blessing as both boys loved Ursula so much and I could not think of a better guardian then this elderly tiny spiritual giant of a woman. Anyway, the British consul on the island had to sign the guardian consent forms as well as my husband and myself. Unfortunately, as my husband was in hospital and the form had to be signed by everybody involved at the same time, the only way to achieve this was for all to arrange to meet in my husband’s ward and to sign there. The British consul staff informed me that there was a considerable charge for this service. I was shocked at the amount. It far exceeded anything reasonable. I proceeded to have a very heated discussion with them during which I, in very forthright terms, told them exactly what I thought of their attempting to rip-off British subjects when abroad and hospitalised. Having never contacted them in a decade while living on the island I was less than impressed and ended the conversation by telling them to get stuffed. Not a wise move when the clock was ticking on getting this guardian form signed and legal before flights departed. 

Without this form they could not travel. Fortunately, I am a citizen of more than one country and so I turned to the Irish consul who turned out to be a likeable competent person whose services were provided at an unbelievably reasonable cost. All was signed and legal, so I did not have to turn to my third citizenship and contact the Canadian consul! Such is the weirdness of being brought up in Northern Ireland. I am entitled to both Irish and British passports and because my parents emigrated to Canada for two years, during which I was born, I am also a Canadian passport holder. You know it pays to have as many passports as you can possibly acquire!

It it seemed as if we had cleared all the hurdles when the boy’s school flagged up yet another major one. The opening of terraces coincided with the end of year Greek school exams and they were informed that if they missed their exams they would have to repeat their entire school year again! We discussed it as a family and both boys agreed they would rather miss the exams and repeat the entire school year then lose out on this special trip. They went to the school to meet with their headmaster and headteacher to explain. I didn't envy them explaining the event, their Baha’i Faith to a school dominated by the Greek Orthodox religion. When they returned from the meeting the tale they told was surprising indeed. 

After explaining the event and their desired attendance the boys informed the headmaster and headteacher of their willingness to repeat the year because of missing the end of year exams. The headmaster and teacher talked among themselves for a while and then suggested a way forward. They said that repeating year could be avoided if a note was sent in saying the boys were sick on the days of the missed exams. Both men were rather pleased at finding a clever way to avoid the boys having to repeat the whole school year. This time it was my two sons who conferred with each other as to how to respond. Their decision was - they weren't prepared to lie to go to a Baha'i event, it didn’t seem right. I don't know what the headmaster felt about this unexpected response but he suddenly decided that they could go to Haifa and would not have to tell a lie or repeat the year. Our next door neighbour who was a teacher at the school told us the headmaster had been floored by their youthful integrity. They had a fantastic trip.  It was one of those wonderful life affirming events for them both.  Sometimes out of the midst of unexpected challenges we learn not only about ourselves but also the hidden depths of others.