Consider, for this moment, life in 1877. Edison introduced a sound recorder, the Edisonphone. Rutherford B. Hayes became President by a single electoral vote and appointed Frederick Douglass as Marshal of Washington, D.C. Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce surrendered, and Sitting Bull led his Lakota Sioux into Canada. Important things happened. So did frivolous ones. The first Guernsey Cattle Club formed in New York City, and the first Westminster Dog Show occurred. It was also the year when baseball’s catchers donned masks and the Cincinnati Enquirer used the term “bullpen” to describe the area outside the foul lines.
Who am I to say what is frivolous? Back at you: Who are you to say it? That’s the point here. Go into either what was or what is to see a wide range of concern or unconcern. You will understand and misunderstand. Obviously, some group thought that a dog show was significant enough to warrant their organizing efforts. Same with a cattle club. You can still find people devoted to breeding and judging dogs and cows. And just as wars took lives and displaced people in conspicuously important events, they still do the same. Some events engender concern and involvement by many; others don’t. Is it cliché to say that many people cannot empathize with others who are of different social and intellectual backgrounds? Is it cliché to say that ignorance breeds indifference? Would someone disinterested in the American political system care that Hayes was elected by a single electoral vote? Would someone in California care about the appointment of Douglass as D.C.’s marshal? Would someone in the Guernsey Cattle Club care about Sitting Bull’s leaving the country? Yes, some care is possible, but probably not deep concern. When people are different from one another, is empathy more difficult to achieve?
When something occurs, such as a sporting event or a tragic event, don’t be surprised by a wide range of responses, from empathy to indifference. Four days after Nicholas II was crowned Tsar of Russia, thousands of people gathered for a party at Khodynka Field for celebratory free buffets and gifts, including, for every partygoer, a roll, a sausage link, pretzel, some gingerbread, and a mug. You guessed it: A mad scramble on May 18, 1896, left more than 1,000 dead and a similar number injured. Nothing like free stuff at a party to get a crowd moving and trampling one another. Now here’s where indifference surfaces:
Alexei Volkov met some of the crowd carrying their gifts on their way home. He reports, “The strange thing…was that not one person mentioned the catastrophe….”
Indifference makes as much difference as difference makes indifference. The Tsar appeared not to care about the deaths when he attended a ball in his honor. Some say he did not want to go, but political and diplomatic pressure forced him to divert his empathy to an ensuing offering of money to the victims. It was a show of empathy too late in coming. His seeming indifference made a difference in the way his people viewed him.
Indifference can make a lethal difference. Although more than a dozen people heard the screams of Kitty Genovese on the street outside her apartment building in 1964, no one rushed to her aid to prevent an ongoing knife attack by Winston Moseley. One person did eventually call the police. Apparently, the only person who rushed to help her was Sophia Farrar, who comforted the fatally wounded woman until the police came. Kitty’s death generated new terms, such as “Genovese syndrome” and “bystander effect.”
A little self-examination might enable you to evaluate your own concerns. So today, ask yourself about what is truly important to you. How many of your concerns might be in some degree frivolous? With whom do you share your concerns? You probably know your Intelligence Quotient and Emotional Quotient. Would knowing your Empathy Quotient give you a bit more self-knowledge? Should you take the Empathy Quotient test devised by Simon Baron-Cohen and found online at https://psychology-tools.com/empathy-quotient/ ?
Indifference can, indeed—by lack of deed—make a difference.