The Scope of Selflessness
user profile
Sadhika Pant
 June 24 2024
more_horiz

    The sun beats down with a relentless fury on North India these days. Summer has reached its peak, the mercury climbing well beyond 45 degrees Celsius (113 degrees Fahrenheit). Heatwave alerts have been issued and the parks are empty even during the ongoing summer break in schools. Fires spring up unexpectedly in vehicles, air conditioning units, and electrical panels, each day bringing a new tale of destruction. Just the other day, one such incident occurred not far from where I live.

    It was 6:30 in the morning, and I was on my way for my morning swim. As I approached one of the familiar apartment buildings on my route, a massive fire caught my eye. Enormous clouds of black smoke billowed into the sky and there was utter chaos among the bystanders. On the first-floor balcony, an old man, perhaps seventy years of age, teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. Fortune smiled that day, as the fire engine roared up just in time. An ambulance arrived shortly after, followed by the police. 

    Not wanting to be late, I didn’t wait to see what happened next. On my way home, I saw that the building now stood empty and the gates were locked. There was a security guard outside however, and I pulled over and asked him if all the residents had been safely rescued. He reassured me, easing my concerns with a nod and a few quiet words.

    I told my friends about this incident shortly after, and one of them posed a question that’s been gnawing at me ever since. At the time, I had no answer, and the question has lingered with me, unsettled and insistent.

    “Why did you come back to see if everyone in the building was safe? What would you have done if they weren't?”

    The question did stump me, I’ll admit. I couldn't quite say why I stopped to check. Truth be told, I don't imagine I would have done much if I had discovered someone was seriously injured or worse. I didn't know the people in the building, not personally, anyway.

    Proximity to a crisis stirs a person's actions, be it helping another, fleeing in terror, panicking, or rising to heroism. For me, only the suffering of a loved one—perhaps a family member or my boyfriend—could draw out anything heroic, though I doubt my effectiveness even then. Outside that circle of kith and kin, had the incident happened in the street where I live, I may have still been involved enough to help out in other ways. I might have visited people at the hospital or gone to meet their families. As the crisis moves beyond my neighbourhood, I would care enough to find out, but wouldn’t have taken a very active role. The further the tragedy from my home, the cooler my response. Frankly, had the incident occurred far away, I wouldn't have returned to follow up. At most, I'd check the local news, but I wouldn't go out of my way for strangers. It was the nearness of this event that compelled me to care and seek more.

    This got me thinking — is empathy just a matter of distance?

    It seems to be the case, and doesn’t that sound cynical? Many would argue that helping your own—family, friends, or neighbours—stems not from empathy but from selfishness. Perhaps there's truth in that. But thinking further, I realised it’s more hopeful than it seems. Selfishness is investing a part of yourself. When you stake your heart in your family or community, seeing a threat to them as a threat to yourself, you act, even at a personal cost. It is both selfish and selfless. 

    Selfless is the stranger who plunges into the inferno to save an old man he has never met. Selfless, too, is the stranger who enlarges his sense of self so that he is a stranger no more. 

    Great were the men who enlarged their selves to include not only their loved ones, but also their tribe and countrymen. That richness of identity has slipped from our grasp, yet we persist in seeking moments to restore the magnanimity of our diminished selves.

    selflessness self identity empathy
    544
    7
    544 views
    Filter By:

    Please confirm your account