I'm an obviously big Japonophile, and while my Twitterverse is a very small one, I'm seeing a little less noise at the moment, and a lot of it is focused on Japan. I too, am buried in the enormity of what is happening there - I'm in tears every day for it, but still can't shut it out like I did eventually for the Qld and South American floods, and the NZ quake.
Maybe, though, there's an element of empathy that is borne in the clarity of vision one can use to try to - well, empathise? We (statistically speaking) think we can see ourselves in a NZ city, and that we can think like a kiwi, and so can place ourselves in the actual disaster itself, so it hits “us” harder, but to many people we know, even those who have been, Japan is an exotic destination with much we don’t understand.
I can’t imagine a Japan that doesn’t have an almost obscene electricity habit, and a Tohoku that is rife with rail commuters, but right now that’s what’s happening to millions of people hurting and just trying to get on with their lives. I’ve spent enough time walking along the wharves (and even Tsunami safety levies) in coastal towns for those detritus-laden images to mean a whole lot more than material damage. And yet, that’s all this is, a bit of empathy, coming to me clear because a place I know and love took a really big hit in the last week. So why the harder time coming to terms with this than the floods in Brazil? I really don’t think it’s because of the greater human toll, but because of what I can recall and imagine once the empathy starts…
Maybe, though, there's an element of empathy that is borne in the clarity of vision one can use to try to - well, empathise? We (statistically speaking) think we can see ourselves in a NZ city, and that we can think like a kiwi, and so can place ourselves in the actual disaster itself, so it hits “us” harder, but to many people we know, even those who have been, Japan is an exotic destination with much we don’t understand.
I can’t imagine a Japan that doesn’t have an almost obscene electricity habit, and a Tohoku that is rife with rail commuters, but right now that’s what’s happening to millions of people hurting and just trying to get on with their lives. I’ve spent enough time walking along the wharves (and even Tsunami safety levies) in coastal towns for those detritus-laden images to mean a whole lot more than material damage. And yet, that’s all this is, a bit of empathy, coming to me clear because a place I know and love took a really big hit in the last week. So why the harder time coming to terms with this than the floods in Brazil? I really don’t think it’s because of the greater human toll, but because of what I can recall and imagine once the empathy starts…
Reply
Leave a comment