Empathy is an honest response, and when it involves strangers it is, I think, an honest measure of our prejudices. In my column in The Herald today I refer to the nine killed in the plane crash near Kokoda in Papua New Guinea this week as an illustration of that. Well, 13 people died in on that mountainside, but four of them were not Australians. Three of them were Papua New Guineans and one Japanese, and their life was lost as completely and as tragically as the life of any of the Australians.
But is nationality the primary measure? What if the nine Australians had been Pakistani Australians or Lebanese Australians? Would your empathy have flowed as freely as it did for the families of the nine white Australians? I think not.
Aha, but that is assuming that you are white Australian. Presumably a Pakistani Australian or a Lebanese Australian would be as distressed about the deaths of their respective countrymen as white Australians are about their white countrymen. Does this mean, too, that Pakistani or Lebanese Australians are less empathetic about the Kokoda deaths of the white Australians?
Is your concern for a young man facing a death sentence in Vietnam reduced if he is a Vietnamese Australian? For Rio Tinto's China-born Stern Hu in a Chinese jail less than if he were a white Australian?
Why are we immeasurably more concerned about saving the life of a child in Australia than in Africa? Indeed, why are we immeasurably more concerned about the shooting of brumbies in Australia than we are about the slaughter of people in other countries? A kitten that has been the victim of cruelty prompts a torrent of outrage and sympathy while the rape and murder of children in Africa provokes not even a trickle.
Most of the factors that go to our empathy are illegal if they go to discrimination, yet they not only exist, they flourish unchallenged. Or are you prepared to challenge them?