Opinion with Michael Coren Early this summer, and in the space of two weeks, a pair of seemingly unrelated events took place, and statements were made that I believe go to the heart of the contemporary malaise, in Canada as well as in the United States. ey involved di erent issues, but screamed the same lack of compassion that so characterizes our current moral situation. Thomas Tobin, the Bishop of Providence, Rhode Island tweeted, “A reminder that Catholics should not support or attend LGBTQ ‘Pride Month’ events held in June. ey promote a culture and encourage activities that are contrary to Catholic faith and morals. ey are especially harmful for children.” e comment went viral, thousands protested, but the bishop stood rm. His misunderstanding of Christianity aside, the man seemed unable to grasp the incalculable harm done to children by the very church which he represented and the pain still being experienced by survivors of Catholic clergy abuse. Many of those people who had been assaulted by priests explained that they were gay and would be attending Pride. Tobin was unmoved. Just a few days later, the ndings of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls were reported, and they made for horrendous reading. If you remember back a few months, those ndings referred to “genocide” and, when we read of the organized attempt to expunge native culture, destroy an entire people as a distinct group and allow or cause mass death, it’s di cult to avoid that word. But some commentators certainly did, and even seemed to take delight in rejecting and at times mocking it. is wasn’t genocide, they argued, and joked about the alleged privileges of native people. O en led by seemingly intelligent people, the mob was unleashed and had its fun. I came to Canada from Britain – a di erent type of snowbird – when I was in my late 20s, so the indigenous story was new to me. But I’ll never forget hearing a First Nations man explain why his grandfather could never be hugged and would never hug him. It was, he said, because that poor man had been in a residential school and hugs from teachers and sta were o en a preamble to rape. I bowedmy head and tried not to weep. I’m not going to argue matters of religion, or the history of the settler treatment of indigenous people, because the truth stands for itself. What I do want to proclaim, however, is empathy. Because the inability to feel for others is ripping the soul and heart from debate, discussion and civility. How can an alleged man of God not imagine how an abused child would feel when reading his cruel condemnation? How can an allegedly intelligent person not wonder what it feels like for native people to see their story of su ering dismissed and used as conservative comedy fodder? It’s been said many times before that social media is a large part of the problem, and how it’s easier to objectify and insult someone whom you can’t see and who is at the end of a computer. ere’s truth in that, but the problem goes far deeper. Joy in cruelty has entered the grid of human interaction to an alarming extent, and notions of community have been replaced by the fashion of harsh individualism. is has always existed of course, but has now taken on a weird prestige, as though what was considered dishonourable is now worthy of praise. e more cynical and reactionary people are, it seems, the more novel and courageous they appear. A Toronto summer. A homeless man asks me for some money. I usually o er food rather than cash, and go into the nearest store to buy him a sandwich and a coke. He follows me, which is hardly surprising. is guy is in very poor shape. He trembles, his clothes are ripped and lthy, and he smells. I put the food on the counter and the woman serving looks at me, then at him, then at me again, then at him, and then nally back at me. Her words are simple. “Are you two together?” She’s asking if I’m paying, but that easy question seems to take an age to answer. “Yes,” I nally say, “we’re together.” Empathy isn’t always comfortable, especially when it challenges our complacency, whereas ippant nastiness comes with very little e ort. But the latter diminishes all it touches, while the former could change the entire world. 16 | www.snowbirds.org
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