Scapegoat -William Holman Hunt

I read an article a friend had posted this morning, taken from The Independent. I read it with tears for many reasons and a certain amount of empathy. The piece run by the paper tells the extended story of a young man attacked and severely injured by a gang of youths in London. It tells it beyond the minimal headline usually accorded to such crimes that are spurred on by hatred and misplaced fear, showing how not only one life can be completely shattered by such mindless, brutish violence, but how the lives of others around them can also be affected.

The young man speaks of how his relationship foundered because of the fallout from the attack, of the scars that will remain long after the physical scars have faded; of the internal changes, the fear and anxiety such an event will leave in its wake.

The young man was almost the same age as my son when he was attacked. I have seen and felt the ripples spread wide from that single stone cast in the pool of time. That too was a senseless attack, a moment of horrific violence the effects of which will last a lifetime, not just for my son but for many more and which has changed the lives of all of us who were caught up in that unfolding and horrific story. I watched those I love in pain, helpless to make it better. Felt the utterly senseless guilt because I am his mother and ‘should have’ kept him safe. How could I not feel for the young man in the article?

The story this morning had been shared on Facebook and the comments in the thread are a sad, no… an appalling reflection on how we, as ‘civilised’ societies worldwide, still label, pigeonhole and despise those we class as ‘minority groups’. It brought home how people I personally know to be strong, loving individuals still feel their public behaviour to be shaped by the petty fears and prejudices of the society in which they were raised. Because, of course, the young man in the article was gay, walking with his boyfriend, and the attack a crime of homophobic hatred. My son, on the other hand… a straight, white, blond young businessman belonged to no such ‘minority group’. What damned difference does it make?

No matter what any individual’s views on another may be, nothing makes this kind of violence right. It can never be acceptable. This young man is simply a human being. Nothing else should matter… colour, creed, gender, race, age, health or sexuality… I cannot think of a single reason that justifies brutality of this kind. And while it cannot be acceptable as a motive, neither should there be a need to highlight anything other than the simple fact that a fellow human being was the victim of appalling violence. That, in itself, is enough.

Reading the comments I realised that although the world has changed in many ways since my own youth we are still victims of the mentality of a bygone age and of the prejudices of previous generations. I remember well the racial hatred born of fear that was prevalent when I was a child. I remember that children dare not speak out about familial abuse, women could not expect help for being beaten by their husbands and rape victims were met with the knowing smile that implied there was no smoke without fire.

Today society as a whole condemns, rather than condones by silence, those who commit such heinous crimes, though I question whether we have yet a true compassion and understanding for the victims and the long term damage they sustain.

There is also the problem of the pendulum of realisation, when society reacts by swinging away from the shame that it failed to acknowledge its own faults, and risks going so far in the opposite direction that it too damages the very society it seeks to protect. From the little old lady who now feels she has to ask permission from a young mother to offer her child a sweet, to the teacher who dare not put an arm around a crying child for fear of accusation…. Through to the backside-covering that goes on in almost every organisation and institution and yet which merely pays lip service to an ideal, more often than not, rather than truly embracing it. We have so many safeguards in place so that we can be seen to be doing the right thing… though to do so from fear of disapprobation or punishment is not the deep level of change in attitude that we need.

Yet we have to start somewhere and we can but hope that as we move further in time away from the tacit acceptance of prejudice towards an abhorrence of hatred, the pendulum may settle into sanity and we, as a species, may learn the value of the love and compassion we all seek but which, still, so many fail to give.