Doing the right thing
 |
 |
 |
This scene is significant because it captures the typical Chinese attitude in this kind of situation. More than a century has gone by since the incident in Lu Xun's story, but it seems we have not undergone any fundamental change.
A few years ago, a small child was run down in traffic. Many vehicles and pedestrians passed by, but nobody stopped to help. Video evidence like that functions as a mirror held up for us to see our own alarming level of apathy.
It would be unfair to characterize the whole Chinese population as if it were one person. There are frequent reports of ordinary people in spontaneous moments of extraordinary heroism.
Some risk their lives and others go out of their way to help.
On April 14, Jin Han, an actor with Beijing People's Art Theater, was injured when he tried to stop a robbery. Jin got more publicity partly because of his profession.
Unlike in the old days when incidents like this were enlarged for others to emulate, a new trend has emerged that portrays the protagonists as ordinary people who performed heroic deeds.
While it takes pressure off those who tend to shy away from confrontations, it also casts such acts of heroism in a more accessible light. People act not because they have to, but because they want to.
At the same time, pragmatic questions are raised such as compensation for those who lose their lives or incur injuries. As a result, some city governments have allocated funds for such purposes.
The collective sense of inadequacy as well as the fake chutzpah in cyberspace arises from the innermost knowledge that it is the right thing to do. The keyboard heroes may be hypocritical, but at least they know right from wrong. In many, more complicated situations, they may not even know what's right or wrong.
Now that we have become aware of the gap between what we think and what we do, the quandary may be slightly eased for those who are tempted to take action.
