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| Devotees help a penitent carry a wooden cross during the “Jesus del Gran Poder” or Jesus of Great Power procession, in Quito, Ecuador, April 15. Easter has been celebrated around the world during Holy Week, commemorating the last week of the earthly life of Jesus Christ culminating in his crucifixion on Good Friday and his resurrection on Easter Sunday. AP-Yonhap |
By Scott Shepherd
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Once when I was walking out of the British Library, I saw a woman outside on the floor having some kind of fit or seizure. It was a wintery evening ― it may even have been snowy if I remember correctly ― and the library was just closing, so there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of people all leaving through the main entrance, hurrying to beat the rush-hour traffic. And although the woman was lying right outside the main doors and was clearly in need of help, everyone was simply walking past her.
I don’t know how long she had been lying there, but I suppose it couldn’t have been too long. It may have been that in the gloaming of that London evening she was not easily visible, or perhaps the people passing were all simply absorbed by their phones. I don’t know if all of these passers-by really were unable to see this woman or whether they simply chose not to. Either way, there was a person lying in the middle of Central London having a medical emergency and no-one was helping her.
When I realized this, I ran back inside to get help from the library security staff. They came and as soon as they started helping the woman, several more people stopped to help. One of the security guards started providing first aid, and with the small crowd that had now gathered it became clear that there was nothing useful I could do, so I went home.
I don’t bring this story up simply because I want to virtue-signal or humble-brag or whatever ugly neologism we’re using these days. Obviously I think I did the right thing, but I’m not saying that what I did was somehow noble or glorious. Rather, what I’m suggesting is that my reaction should be the normal one, and that the people who walked past were actively wrong not to act.
I know that psychological studies suggest that people are reluctant to intervene when there are many others around who can help instead. But there are plenty of natural urges that we learn to overcome in order to live in a civilized society, and I repeat: Stopping to help should be the reaction of any human in that situation. I suppose what makes it even worse is that many of those people passing by her were members of the intelligentsia. The researchers and scholars who shape policy and public discourse didn’t even stop to help a woman in the snow.
That long-past incident has been on my mind recently because this Easter I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to help others. I met the head of a charity a few weeks ago and while we spoke it really struck me how selfishly I’ve been living my life. So I’m still trying to understand what altruism should mean in my own life.
I spoke to some students this week about what they would do if they saw someone in some kind of distress. Some were very honest and said that they would be too scared to intervene; they would call an ambulance but nothing else. Fascinatingly, one male student told me that he would give aid to a man, but that he would only help a woman if he knew he was being filmed so that he couldn’t be accused of sexual assault. In fact, another student said he would never again help people in public: He recounted a time when he and a friend helped a drunken old man who had collapsed on the street (sadly too common a sight in Korea), only for said drunkard to accuse his would-be helpers of assault and demand 2 million won in compensation.
In a far more extreme and tragic situation, a British coroner ruled last week on the death of Richard Woodcock, a man who was violently killed as he saved the life of a two-year-old boy. It feels almost filmic, a storyline so common that we almost don’t even see the point in reading the news. In fact, it almost feels like a variation of the kind of subplot you’d see at some point in about 30% of K-Dramas.
Of course, this was real life and a real tragedy, the kind that tabloids love. And so often it’s the same: the red-tops splash the word ‘hero’ across a headline in big letters, they sell a few newspapers, a few readers feel inspired, and the world moves on. But the jaded response to this kind of news ― almost treating it as a cliche ― completely misses how stunningly rare, how astonishing it is for a person to sacrifice his very life for the sake of someone else ― anyone else, let alone a stranger.
If people don’t even bother to stop for a woman lying in the snow, what a mystery it is that this man put himself in harm’s way for another person’s child. Of course, the people who intervene invariably do so hoping that all will work out well; but, understanding that it might not, they choose to act anyway ― that is what heroism is. Whether Richard Woodcock had survived or not, his actions were just as heroic as they were rare.
It is right to act in defense of others; and it is especially commendable when the intervention poses a real risk to the person stepping in. This kind of action is rare on an individual level but also on an international one, as Korea is unfortunately showing too well right now. The government is currently providing little more than the most basic and begrudging of aid to Ukraine. And, in what appears almost like an intentional snub, when Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy addressed the Korean parliament virtually this past week, it was only attended by a handful of people in an almost-empty auditorium, speaking volumes of Korea’s reluctance to help others when its own short-term, narrowly-defined interests are involved (though, as I argued last month, it really is in Korea’s own interests to support Ukraine against Russia’s aggression).
It’s hard, I know. Self-sacrifice may be admirable in others, but it’s hardly a popular concept when we actually have to apply it to ourselves. I wonder how the numbers compare between the books that have been written on self-improvement compared to those on self-sacrifice.
But sacrifice is at the very heart of the Easter story. That Jesus died to take the punishment we deserve is at the center of Christianity. It is a radical message of humility, grace and love: that the God of the whole universe would send his son who willingly suffered humiliation, agonizing torture and then death on behalf of the very people who caused and deserve that anguish. It’s a shocking and challenging message that needs to be heard all the more in this difficult world. Indeed it is Jesus who gave the golden rule: do to others what you would have them do to you. Of course, the story of Easter is not complete without the resurrection, which gives hope to all those who believe and gives us strength to stand up for what is right in the world.
Christian or not, this Easter, in this hard world, I hope that we can seek to be more caring to each other, more willing to help our fellow humans. Honestly, I don’t know what I would do if I found myself in the same situation that Richard Woodcock did. It’s so easy from the comfort of my home to say that I would have the courage to act. I hope I would, but unless I find myself in that situation I can never say for certain. I do feel sure, however, that if I ever saw you collapsed on the street, I would help you. And I hope that you would do the same for me.
Dr. Scott Shepherd is a British-American academic. He has taught in universities in the U.K. and Korea, and is currently an assistant professor of English at Chongshin University in Seoul. The views expressed in the article are the author’s own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.
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