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THE ASIA QUAKE : Has this catastrophe really made us a more caring world?
Irish Independent
Jan 08, 2005
By Mary Kenny
Has the world been changed by the terrible tsunami in Asia? Has human
nature been altered by this appalling catastrophe, brought home to us
by the television cameras with more vividness than any other
catastrophe in history?
It certainly seemed like that in the two weeks following the
disaster. An unprecedented flow of global generosity poured out from
all countries, a flow led not by politicians or other leaders but
spontaneously erupting from ordinary people. Within two weeks,
worldwide pledges of donations had reached $3bn (â=82¬ 2.27bn) - a sum
of money never before collected in such a short time for a caring
cause.
And if 'globalisation' is a dirty word in the mouths of some - the
'anti-globalisation' campaigners certainly have used it thus - after
the tsunami the admirable and uplifting aspect of a global
consciousness became evident. People were not thinking in terms of
national, racial or religious relief. They were thinking globally.
Back in the 20th century, kindly and compassionate gestures were
certainly made for peoples who had suffered catastrophe, but these
were usually on some basis of kinship. The Irish-Americans helped
Ireland; the British helped those they were linked to by 'Empire'; the
Church of England helped the Armenian peoples because they were being
persecuted by the Islamic Turks; the Catholic Church in Ireland raised
quite a lot of help for victims of the Russian famines in the 1920s,
partly because the victims were often Christians starved out by an
atheistic regime and partly because the very word 'famine' is always
evocative in Ireland.
But with the tsunami, it hasn't been like that at all. This global
response was for suffering humanity, with no particular links of
kinship or other points of common cultural identity. It was pure,
globalised altruism. Indeed, some Darwinist thinkers were quite
puzzled by it, since Darwinism teaches that we are programmed to give
preference to peoples who might be related to us over those with whom
we share no gene pool.
So, yes, in one way we could conclude that the tsunami has been a
turning point for the 'global village'. Its terrifying scale and
unpredictability has raised awareness that there must be a sustained
globalised response to catastrophes and, further, that the richer
world must be ready to help the poorer world on a continuing basis.
This is not entirely a new idea. The notion of alms-giving is explicit
in almost every religion - Judaism and Islam are particularly emphatic
about it. You are obliged to give to the poor and the needy. In
Ireland, that generosity has always been quite remarkable, and however
much bad publicity the Catholic Church has had over the past decade,
hostility never affected the caritas role of the Church. Year in, year
out, the St Vincent de Paul still attracted support and revenue.
Calvinism did not approve of charity to the same extent as older
faiths: the Calvinist strain distinguished between the 'deserving' and
the 'undeserving' poor. The deserving poor were merely unlucky; the
undeserving were the feckless and improvident who had brought it all
on themselves and would never alter their behaviour. That dilemma is
still with us each time we pass a beggar in the street. Is it kind to
give him money, knowing full well that he is likely to spend it on
drugs that will keep him where he is? Or should we simply act
charitably and not enquire where the money goes?
On a larger scale, some of the post-tsunami donors will be asking the
same question: is it right to give money where a society is corrupt?
Or should we just be charitable without a strings-attached clause?
All in all, the tsunami has pushed the world more towards the spirit
of generosity. Even where governments are corrupt, we realise that
people are needy. And we should have a worldwide consciousness of
these needs. It's as if the tsunami has almost ushered in an idea
pledged in the Communist Manifesto of1848: "From each according to his
ability, to each according to his need".
But if the world order has been changed by this catastrophe, it is
less likely that human nature itself has. Disasters shake us and
resolve us to show humanity, but soon enough the Old Adam
appears. There are people who immediately show great kindness and
heroism, but there are also people who quickly take advantage. Within
a week of the disaster, in Britain, there were reports that special
collections for tsunami victims had been stolen by thieves. Within 10
days, there were reliable reports coming from Unicef that gangs were
recruiting tsunami orphans to sell into the sex trade. There were
grumbles, too, from other charities that money collected for the
tsunami victims would now meanless revenue for them.
There were proclamations from Islamic clerics that the tsunami was a
punishment from God for all the sex-tourism and prostitution that has
been associated with some parts of the Far East. And the internet was
awash with other conspiracy theories: the Americans were quickly
blamed, as they so often are now. Strange, was it not, that the
island of Diego Garcia, host to an American airbase, was untouched by
the tidal wave? Actually, there is a geological explanation, but that
would spoil the conspiracy theory!
There is something frightening and extraordinary about the thought
that the tectonic plates can move beneath the surface of the ocean and
the globe itself can shift on its axis. The world has been changed by
this knowledge. And for all that we complain about the rubbishy aspect
of television, this is one great service that TV and international
communications have performed: bringing it all so close to us.
But to sustain that consciousness, and to maintain that sense of
global solidarity will require a change in human nature itself. And
that has always been somewhat more difficult to achieve.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
Irish Independent
Jan 08, 2005
By Mary Kenny
Has the world been changed by the terrible tsunami in Asia? Has human
nature been altered by this appalling catastrophe, brought home to us
by the television cameras with more vividness than any other
catastrophe in history?
It certainly seemed like that in the two weeks following the
disaster. An unprecedented flow of global generosity poured out from
all countries, a flow led not by politicians or other leaders but
spontaneously erupting from ordinary people. Within two weeks,
worldwide pledges of donations had reached $3bn (â=82¬ 2.27bn) - a sum
of money never before collected in such a short time for a caring
cause.
And if 'globalisation' is a dirty word in the mouths of some - the
'anti-globalisation' campaigners certainly have used it thus - after
the tsunami the admirable and uplifting aspect of a global
consciousness became evident. People were not thinking in terms of
national, racial or religious relief. They were thinking globally.
Back in the 20th century, kindly and compassionate gestures were
certainly made for peoples who had suffered catastrophe, but these
were usually on some basis of kinship. The Irish-Americans helped
Ireland; the British helped those they were linked to by 'Empire'; the
Church of England helped the Armenian peoples because they were being
persecuted by the Islamic Turks; the Catholic Church in Ireland raised
quite a lot of help for victims of the Russian famines in the 1920s,
partly because the victims were often Christians starved out by an
atheistic regime and partly because the very word 'famine' is always
evocative in Ireland.
But with the tsunami, it hasn't been like that at all. This global
response was for suffering humanity, with no particular links of
kinship or other points of common cultural identity. It was pure,
globalised altruism. Indeed, some Darwinist thinkers were quite
puzzled by it, since Darwinism teaches that we are programmed to give
preference to peoples who might be related to us over those with whom
we share no gene pool.
So, yes, in one way we could conclude that the tsunami has been a
turning point for the 'global village'. Its terrifying scale and
unpredictability has raised awareness that there must be a sustained
globalised response to catastrophes and, further, that the richer
world must be ready to help the poorer world on a continuing basis.
This is not entirely a new idea. The notion of alms-giving is explicit
in almost every religion - Judaism and Islam are particularly emphatic
about it. You are obliged to give to the poor and the needy. In
Ireland, that generosity has always been quite remarkable, and however
much bad publicity the Catholic Church has had over the past decade,
hostility never affected the caritas role of the Church. Year in, year
out, the St Vincent de Paul still attracted support and revenue.
Calvinism did not approve of charity to the same extent as older
faiths: the Calvinist strain distinguished between the 'deserving' and
the 'undeserving' poor. The deserving poor were merely unlucky; the
undeserving were the feckless and improvident who had brought it all
on themselves and would never alter their behaviour. That dilemma is
still with us each time we pass a beggar in the street. Is it kind to
give him money, knowing full well that he is likely to spend it on
drugs that will keep him where he is? Or should we simply act
charitably and not enquire where the money goes?
On a larger scale, some of the post-tsunami donors will be asking the
same question: is it right to give money where a society is corrupt?
Or should we just be charitable without a strings-attached clause?
All in all, the tsunami has pushed the world more towards the spirit
of generosity. Even where governments are corrupt, we realise that
people are needy. And we should have a worldwide consciousness of
these needs. It's as if the tsunami has almost ushered in an idea
pledged in the Communist Manifesto of1848: "From each according to his
ability, to each according to his need".
But if the world order has been changed by this catastrophe, it is
less likely that human nature itself has. Disasters shake us and
resolve us to show humanity, but soon enough the Old Adam
appears. There are people who immediately show great kindness and
heroism, but there are also people who quickly take advantage. Within
a week of the disaster, in Britain, there were reports that special
collections for tsunami victims had been stolen by thieves. Within 10
days, there were reliable reports coming from Unicef that gangs were
recruiting tsunami orphans to sell into the sex trade. There were
grumbles, too, from other charities that money collected for the
tsunami victims would now meanless revenue for them.
There were proclamations from Islamic clerics that the tsunami was a
punishment from God for all the sex-tourism and prostitution that has
been associated with some parts of the Far East. And the internet was
awash with other conspiracy theories: the Americans were quickly
blamed, as they so often are now. Strange, was it not, that the
island of Diego Garcia, host to an American airbase, was untouched by
the tidal wave? Actually, there is a geological explanation, but that
would spoil the conspiracy theory!
There is something frightening and extraordinary about the thought
that the tectonic plates can move beneath the surface of the ocean and
the globe itself can shift on its axis. The world has been changed by
this knowledge. And for all that we complain about the rubbishy aspect
of television, this is one great service that TV and international
communications have performed: bringing it all so close to us.
But to sustain that consciousness, and to maintain that sense of
global solidarity will require a change in human nature itself. And
that has always been somewhat more difficult to achieve.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress