Grief and tragedy were never meant to be digested like professional sports. We don't have tragedy brackets on ESPN where Bombing in Paris was beat out by Death in Beirut. We don't have commentators debating the underdog value of advancing Military Hero Dies In Combat to the Final Four because of its dark horse value and grassroots support. We don't do these things because it would be sick. Right?
We live in a world forever remaining a mixed cocktail of joy and sadness, beauty and tragedy. At the point of consumption this cocktail seems to always result in madness; a madness only life could bring on. I think one thing we forget is we are all script-less vagabonds wandering the grand theater of life. We are all in a fight. We all want IT to make sense and we sometimes forget the fight is not with each other. Rather than accepting the madness, in the case of compassion, we try to stack rank causes. We try to bring order and we think we can do it with competitive caring.
Caring about the right thing at the right time in the right way has become some kind of sick social currency. This currency's only use is to pick a fight with compassion although it's regularly masked as an attempt to spread awareness. If I mourn an actor but forget to equally and publicly mourn a soldier's death than clearly I should be shamed, shamed because how could I possibly have selected THAT tragedy to advance in my bracket.
One thing to remember is there are obvious sociological factors into why one tragedy garners more attention than another. However, let's set aside the science for a minute. Isn't it obvious our logic and humanity are fractured when our news feeds are flooded with pleas to do something about the death of Christian children in Mosul, the very same people we bombed mercilessly in a campaign we self-righteously named "Shock and Awe." Is it hypocritical to mourn an animal's abuse when there are so many abused children? Is it sadder still that headlines equally as grim and horrifying from the Central African Republic only managed to occupy our minds for a week while the conflicts and death have gone on? You see, it is madness. Comparison may be the thief of joy but it appears we also want it to pick a fight with compassion.
If we talk to a mother and father who lost a child we will instantly see there is no way to classify tragedy; there is only tragedy. It could be the death of one, it could be the death of a million and one but not a soul can claim the grief one person is going through is somehow a lighter load than someone else. Sad is sad. Grief stricken is grief stricken. What if a small thing and a big thing can both be all consuming? How can we possibly think we could subjectively measure something like this?
Sometimes I read the story of a fallen soldier and I'm heartbroken. I read about Robin Williams and I felt like I lost a friend even though I never knew him. I read about an unarmed teen that is shot by a cop and then I read the flood of articles about cops murdered on the job. It is all sad. It is all so tragic.
When we force ourselves to dig a little deeper we realize social-combative-caring is a foolish currency and causes were never meant to be the merchandise. They are simply sad substitutes for compassion. Every tragedy consists of individuals. They could be a Christian or a Muslim, a drug addict or a saint, but no matter what, they were a member of humanity and the world took a hit when we lost them. Unknowable potential was lost and only an indescribable hole is left.
From Paris to Beirut, to Nairobi and Kunduz, to the street corner where a script-less vagabond will freeze this winter, to the bombed-out, poverty-stricken ghetto where another bright mind will be clouded by a fundamentalist's message of hate; we must remember we are in this together. Three words have never been more important than for times like this. Liberté, égalité, fraternité -- for all.