(no subject)
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/tees/7063366.stm
There are murderers in the world who wantonly discard human life. There are entire governments of people who think nothing of massacring innocents. There is blatant disregard for the suffering and lives of other people all over the world. But we feel like extreme cases like this are rare, that these people are in a minority. We feel that there is something fundamentally different between all of US good folks, and all of THEM, the murderers. Maybe thats why stories like this are so shocking. Sure, this man, and his crowd of onlookers, didn't kill this woman. They didn't even know she was dying. They probably assumed that she was drunk. And somehow, somehow, that made them feel like they could humiliate, neglect, and discard her.
The fact that Anderson called his assault "Youtube material" is telling. The internet has changed how we interact with the world, and perhaps, who we are. Anyone in the world can view fellow people being humiliated, injured, or killed via the internet. There are entire websites dedicated to just these types of "shocking viral videos." Viewers don't have to look the victims in the eyes, they don't see the effect on the victim's family, and no one in the real world, not their mothers, their grandparents, their teachers, or their pastors ever have to know that they watched and enjoyed their fellow man's suffering. Some may say that humans have always had the capacity to take pleasure in other's pain, that the internet hasn't changed people, just given them new ways to express and explore the world. But as history has shown us, our capacity for apathy or sadism towards other people is a human possibility better left unexplored. The internet has, if nothing else, given people a place to explore these dangerous feelings anonymously. And exploring, they are.
That's why someone in that crowd knew exactly what to do when they spotted Anderson urinating on a helpless woman: whip out their cell phone and take a video. People have become accustomed to the idea that one of the purposes of digital media is to capture human suffering so that it can be enjoyed by others forever.
Human beings are fragile things, externally and internally. Christine Lakinski may have been more vulnerable than others, but essentially we are all just like her. We all need the compassion and care of other people. None of us want to be alone. And loneliness is exactly the feeling I get when I read Ms. Lakinski's story. Imagine her lonely death, denied any human compassion, denied the very helping hand that may have saved her life. Also lonely, is to imagine those people who were so wrapped up in themselves that they didn't even see Ms. Lakinski as a human being, only as entertainment. These were normal people, not murderers, not criminals. Perhaps the same type of people who are shocked to read Ms. Lakinski's fate would have laughed or ignored her had they been on that street that night. These people were "us," and look what they did. Lonely is the idea that some people who witnessed this crime knew it was wrong, but didn't have the mettle to speak up. And terribly lonely is the idea that I, or perhaps someone vulnerable or in need that I love, could one day be left alone to suffer by people who were no less "normal" than the citizens out walking the streets of Hartlepool that night.
And what's most frightening, what's most desperately tragic, is I think I know quite a few young men who might be inclined to do the exact same thing. I know even more who might stand by and laugh as such depravity unfolded. Many good people I know would stare in disbelief, or walk away disgusted. Precious, precious few would stand up and do something about it. The whole of humanity has these people to thank. But tragically, no such person was there for Christine Lakinski, as she lay soaked in a stranger's urine, dying alone and discarded, as passerbys laughed, or simply ignored her.