Responding to misfortune:
The four zoas
by Simon Longstaff
The way in which we respond to the misfortune of others speaks volumes about the kind of people we are. For example, the current decline in the fortunes of the 'tiger' economies of Asia has been greeted by a curious mix of reactions. Some have been indifferent. Some have taken a perverse pleasure at the sight of tigers losing some of their teeth. Still others have been transfixed by the pitch and roll of currency and sharemarket indices.
The troubling thing to note is that relatively little comment has focussed explicitly on the terrible effects of the economic crisis on the lives of those most closely affected – the local inhabitants and especially the poor and the marginalised, living in the midst of the storm.
In a prosperous country like Australia, it can be difficult to imagine what it might mean to lose one's life savings, job and home in a society without any of the 'safety net' that so many of us take for granted. In such circumstances, the fabric of society can begin to unravel. The need to survive can release the beast within.
There is much that I might say about the kind of response that we might make. However, I could never match the eloquence of William Blake in the following excerpt from The Four Zoas:
What is the price of Experience do men buy it for a song
Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No it is bought with the price
Of all that a man hath his house his wife his children
Wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy
And in the witherd field where the farmer plows for bread in vain
It is an easy thing to triumph in the summers sun
And in the vintage & to sing on the wagon loaded with corn
It is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted
To speak the laws of prudence to the houseless wanderer
To listen to the hungry ravens cry in wintry season
When the red blood is filld with wine & with the marrow of lambs
It is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements
To hear the dog howl at the wintry door, the ox in the slaughter house moan
To see a god on every wind & a blessing on every blast
To hear sounds of love in the thunder storm that destroys our enemies house
To rejoice in the blight that covers his field, & the sickness that cuts off his children
While our olive & vine sing & laugh round our door & our children bring fruits & flowers
Then the groan & the dolor are quite forgotten & the slave grinding at the mill
And the captive in chains & the poor in the prison, & the soldier in the field
When the shatterd bone hath laid him groaning among the happier dead
It is an easy thing to rejoice in the tents of prosperity
Thus could I sing & thus rejoice, but it is not so with me!
discuss this articleDr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.
This article was first published in City Ethics (now Living Ethics), issue 30, summer 1998
© St James Ethics Centre