The 29th
November 2019 marked another tragedy for the city of London, as terrorist
Usman Khan stabbed five people and killed Jack Merritt and Saskia Jones, before
being killed himself by police. By all accounts, both Jack and Saskia
were kind and vibrant young people, dedicated to supporting rehabilitation of violent offenders
and fiercely defiant in their beliefs of the inherent virtue of humanity.
What happened to them has led some to question that virtue,
and it is certainly a horrific and unspeakable crime that was committed against
them. But to write this off as another terrible day in a world that seems to be
getting worse by the hour (if you were to believe your Twitter feed), ignores a
significant part of the story.
To match Jack and Saskia’s generosity of spirit, when Khan attacked
he was disarmed and held down by several brave
members of the public, at great risk to their own lives. Some were also staff
at the rehabilitation centre, sharing Jack and Saskia’s passion for the betterment
of the human condition. Others, such as James
Ford, were ex-offenders themselves, who stood up and took action when they
knew it was the right thing to do. If they hadn’t acted when they did, who
knows how much more damage Khan could have done?
And they are not alone. From spontaneous
volunteers who delayed their own escape to support others in the aftermath
of the Manchester
bombing, to Paul
Dadge, who helped to coordinate response efforts in London following the
7/7 bombings, to those who
helped their neighbours escape the recent wildfires in California, people
have repeatedly put themselves on the line to protect others at great risk to
themselves.
Why do we do this?
I was fortunate to hear a presentation from Dr Chris Cocking
at the International Disaster
Response Expo on the 4th December, who discussed this phenomenon
of spontaneous volunteerism and everyday
heroism in crises in detail. He calls those that act to support others in
these situations “zero
responders”, in reference to the fact that they are active on a scene
before the emergency services, or first-responders, arrive.
Dr Cocking, and collaborator Dr John Drury at the
University of Sussex, have done significant work in the area of crowd response
to disasters, and the psychological evidence for how people act in times of
crisis is more positive than you might think. The fallacy of “mass
panic” suggests that crowds respond chaotically and in a self-interested
way in response to traumatic events. In
reality, more
often than not, bystanders and victims of terror attacks or disasters respond
collectively, often remaining in danger themselves in order to support others.
It is very easy to look at the
events of the 29th November and to fall victim to the divisive
politics that such acts are designed to elicit. When all we see are terror attacks, gang
violence, and seemingly senseless
criminal activity on our TV screens and phones, we can be forgiven for
thinking that the default human condition is one of violence and destruction.
But what Jack Merritt, Saskia Jones, and Paul Dadge demonstrate to us is that
this is not the case. Humans are capable of almost unimaginable acts of horror,
but that does not define who we are. As Jack and Saskia so firmly believed,
even those that have done bad in the past have the potential to do good in the
future. James Ford, the convicted murderer who helped to stop Usman Khan from
harming more people on London Bridge, might just be a manifestation of that
belief.
Jack
Merritt’s father said after his son’s death that Jack believed fundamentally
in the goodness of the human spirit. So should we all. Acts of terror are designed
to divide us, to scare us, and to make us think that there is nothing we can do
to prevent tragedy from befalling us. But for every misguided terror advocate
there are many more ordinary people who simply want to help.
I have no doubt that whilst those
members of the public were fighting off Usman Khan, there were many more
helpers tending to the wounded in the fish market, supporting those who were
distressed, calling the emergency services and keeping others informed of the
area where the danger was. For every Usman Khan, there is a Lukasz
Koczocik, a Stevie
Hurst, or a Thomas Gray. For every hate preacher spouting an ideology of
division and death there is a Jack Merritt or Saskia Jones. For every
unspeakable act of horror, there are a dozen quiet, unspoken and unrecognised
acts of kindness.
As more details unfold regarding
the events and people involved in this shocking attack, we should consider what
this means for all of us. Are we agents of violence and anger, fuelled by
hatred rather than by reality, or are we believers in the strength of humans to achieve the greater good?
Like James Ford, do we have the
capacity to be both?
Jack Merritt and Saskia Jones
believed that he, a violent convicted murderer, could become more than that. For
a few short minutes in the context of chaos in the Fishmonger’s Hall at London
Bridge, he was. Does that absolve him of his crimes? Absolutely not. Does that
mean that he was any less of a hero in that particular instant than the other
members of the public who threw themselves into harms way? I don’t know. But I
do know that it complicates what we mean when we call someone a hero. It leaves
us with uncomfortable questions about the very nature of humankind. It leaves
us no closer to an answer as to what we are or why we do what we do, but I believe
that Jack and Saskia were carving out an answer in their actions and with their
words. It is up to us to follow their path.
In a world that feels
increasingly hostile and dangerous, we should take a step back and think about
what we really believe in. We must examine why people can be driven to commit such
abhorrent acts of violence against those that do not deserve it. But we must
also acknowledge that in the worst of times, occasionally we can catch a
glimpse of the very best of us.
When there is a tendency to fear
and distrust those that we do not know or whose culture we do not understand, we
must push back against that with all our might. When it feels as though there
is nothing that can be done to help in a scary and desperate situation, we must
try to do something anyway. Social psychology tells us that most of us will.
In a world that fixates on anger
and violence, we must be kind. And we must aggressively, unapologetically,
believe in the kindness of others.
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