Interventions
I wanted to write about the current situation in Burma at the moment, because it's frightening and big and all over the media. But it seems too big for me to get a handle on, so I'll take a more oblique look (that is, talk about something almost entirely different).
When things such as Burma's protests happen, something that comes up a lot is the idea of international intervention: just how much should the rest of the world do about something going on in another country? There are wars going on across the whole planet caused by one government's trying to intervene with another, or one group attempting to impose its idea of Right upon another. War is generally not a good thing, so we might say that extreme intervention (involving waging war) is Wrong (because it impacts too much upon people - civilians - who have no real power to change their country's situation). On the other hand, though, I do think that some things are just unacceptable and that a lack of intervention (of come kind) is reprehensible. Obviously this means I do not adhere to the belief that everyone should be able to do whatever the hell they like, regardless of the impact on other people - it's a possible standpoint but not, in my view, a valid one. I do, therefore, think that intervention (of some kind) is a necessity.
But when?
This is a bit twee, maybe, but that's not important. A very well-known poem by Martin Niemoller quietly highlights many problems:
First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me.
Of those "many", though, the one that interests me is the end result of the lack of intervention. Not really the fact that eventually "They" will come and get "me" (that doesn't really factor anywhere in my thinking about this, probably because I'm fortunate enough never to have been victimised in the large-scale way this poem is concerned with), but the downward slope, caused by lack of intervention, leading to the victory of "They".
So take a smaller example. In the pub last night there was a young Polish woman working behind the bar and a (probably) drunken bloke walked in and started hurling abuse at her (I say "probably" drunk, because it explains his disproportionate behaviour - though obviously doesn't justify it). This abuse centred on three traits: (1) Her professionalism [refusal to serve him because he was already pissed, and very rude]; (2) Her sex; (3) Her non-Englishness. The disagreement about (1) I can understand (if not sympathise with) - he was drunk, prior to his arrival, and wanted more alcohol; the abuse relating to (2) was offensive but could perhaps be passed off as just a standard way to insult women - it annoyed me, but only because it was generally insulting (i.e. he was drunk, and expressing himself in the coarsest way possible. Fine). But when he got onto (3) I decided that was enough; probably because it was, by then, personal to the person he was attacking. It seems a bit odd that (3) provoked me into action, despite the fact that what I have in common with her is (2). I'm not sure why that is.
This was all happening extremely loudly and quite physically, in a pub that was in complete silence otherwise (his shouting saw to that). So, at the point (3) reared its head, I got up and asked him to leave - which he did (though probably not because I asked him - he could easily have knocked me out, I don't have the figure of a bouncer...), after calling me a "Medieval whore"*.
None of this made me angry. What made me angry was the group of business 'gentlemen' standing around the bar the whole time this was going on, and not one of them said a word. They stood, glasses in hand (and sober), watching in silence. That was it, that was their reaction; to watch it. The ignorant, drunk, yelling bloke was just that (a fairly harmless, though volatile, arsehole) but the silentwatching 'gentlemen' were, to me, morally disgusting and socially dangerous. On the bloke's exit from the pub one of the besuited businessmen made some cute placatory remark to him -- WHY? (I actually think the answer to this is that he was scared of being hit). I hope at least one or two of those blokes feels suitably embarrassed that they didn't step in, even when it was beginning to get physical.
Was I overreacting? Should I have stood and let it happen like the others? Did I take too much of a risk? (Probably, physically speaking). Am I right in being furious about the others' apathy/cowardice? Is self-preservation more important? I believe in freedom of expression...but does that belief extend to expressing yourself in such an offensive and disruptive way (I was, after all, trying to enjoy a nice evening in the pub!)? Do I have any right to get on my moral high-horse? (Probably not) Why did it bother me anyway?
Lots of questions.
As I said above, I think intervention (of some kind) a necessity; a necessity, that is, for retaining a sense of our own principles. There comes a point where everyone will make a stand (even if only for themselves, eventually), and it is that point, I think, that helps define us. It's not a linear thing, and not everyone's priorities will be in the same area, but it's where we say "no", isn't it, that makes us more than automatons? The point at which I say "no" isn't necessarily a Right one, but I'm reassured that I at least have one. I suspect Stanley Milgram would have had something to say about those gentlemen-in-suits...oh wait, he already said it: we're screwed, probably.
Of course it's a whole different can of worms to ask how we know if our principles/interventions are the Right ones. If we follow a principle of luxurious self-gratification we'd take a different tack to someone upholding the importance of the biological (reproductive) imperative, or a societal ideal of one kind or another. Who's to say which is the Right one? For now, I'd just like to think that everyone has some kind of guiding principle - that would be a start.
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* "Medieval whore" did make me laugh (though not at the time, as I was wondering at that instant if he was actually going to hit me). It's probably the best drunken insult I've heard - and a surprising one, given the 'type' of bloke it seemed to be coming from. I would perhaps have preferred "dissembling luxurious drab" (Troilus & Cressida), but beggars can't be choosers!
1 comment:
No, you're not wrong to get riled. Apparently socialising in a nice manner used to be a human trait (evolution and reproduction, or something of that ilk). That is, until one puts alcohol into the equation...
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