I awoke this morning to the horrifying news of the Abruzzo earthquake. With a confirmed 150 people dead and 50,000+ homeless, it’s nothing less than a tragic situation. And the timing, in the early morning, was also a devastating compounding factor. I read that there had been warnings of the coming earthquake but that a scientist who voiced the warning was silenced by threats of being charged with “public mischief”. If this is true, then it’s a sad indictment of the state of Italian society … however, I can only find such a revelation in Australian papers (The Age, Sydney Morning Herald, Canberra Times, AOL Australia … all Fairfax papers) and nothing of it outside. I wonder why that is?
In any case, that’s an appropriate segue into something else. So here goes.
It took me the experience of living in the United States for several years to work out the difference between society and community. Up till that time, I thought they were the same thing.
The lesson was brought home to me recently when I read this article in the UK paper, The Daily Mail. It’s about Sacramento’s “Tent City”, recently publicised by Oprah Winfrey apparently. From other reports, it appears that the Mail’s estimate of 1,200 people living in Tent City may be an exaggeration; figures more around 400-500 are mentioned from other sources. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I was, instead, struck by a vignette in the article:
Former car salesman Corvin and his wife Tena are among the newest residents of the tent city. The couple, who are in their fifties, lost their home and jobs around the same time. With homeless shelters full in Sacramento, they had little choice but to use what savings they had left to buy a tent.
The couple admit they have yet to tell their grown-up children about their hand-to-mouth existence. Tena said: ‘I have a 35-year-old son, and he doesn’t know. I call him, about once a month and on holidays, to let him know that I’m well and healthy.
‘He would love me anyway, but I don’t want to worry him.’
Their story made me wonder about the functioning of a society where parents refuse to ask their children for help (or the converse) in tough times. There is no “community” here. There’s barely a “family”. And it’s going to make surviving the current economic crisis in the USA that much more difficult. Please don’t think this is an original idea on my part. Dmitry Orlov has been talking about the differences in survival attitude between the Soviet Union collapse and now the American collapse for quite some time now. He even has a book out on it, called “Reinventing Collapse“. I like Orlov’s sense of humour, even if I think he’s taking the easy way out by concentrating on only the most visible consequences of economic collapse, but then, I’m not in America getting laid off at the rate of hundreds of thousands of jobs a month, so who am I to talk?
One thing Orlov touches on is how a community helps the individual during times of personal hardship, and it appears to be a lesson that’s difficult to learn in a society where — as I’ve always thought of America — if you’re poor, it’s your fault, and if you’re rich, it’s your fault. The old military slogan of “An Army of One” also tried to tap into an attitude of rampant individualism that seems to run, like a thick core, through the American psyche. It may have been okay when times were good (not really, for a socialist like me, although a capitalist may have thought so), but it’s really bad now for all such individualists when things have taken a downturn. The contrast is none so blinding as when I look out my own front door.
We’ve been dragged kicking and screaming into Malaysian “community” life. Only last week, a friend came by with an assortment of fruit trees that she had carried herself, by bus, from Perak state down to Johor. You see, we are on a third of an acre of land here and, looking out over the waving grass, our friend decided that what we needed were fruit trees. So, after a casual jokey comment about using the land productively (that I equally casually agreed to), she turned up on our doorstep with several young trees, handed them over — after telling us how she had come by (and buy) them — and commented that she’d be happy to drive over and pick the fruit once the trees are established and producing.
Meanwhile, J and I had plans for a significant percentage of that spare land, but knew nothing was going to happen for at least a year, while we built up our home budget. So now, I have to think about where we’re going to plant the fruit trees while still keeping space for our own plans.
Does this put a crimp in our designs? Certainly. Is it inconvenient? Yes. Should I have thanked my friend profusely but refused her gift? Absolutely not. And I’ll tell you why.
It’s all part of “community”. And that means sacrificing some of our own convenience in order to belong to a bigger support network. I mean, that’s what a community is, right? A support network of people you can draw on when things are bad, and who help celebrate with you when things are good.
So, in the spirit of community, I’ll do adequate research to ensure our newest arrivals get the best amateur horticultural care they can. We’ll modify our plans and scale back on what we wanted to do to give the young mango, mangosteen and rambutan trees a chance to establish. (I hear there are durian trees arriving as well. Yikes!) We’ll nurture the trees and invite our friends over for fruit-picking parties. We’ll give them permission to drop by and roam the garden when we’re not at home, if that’s at a time that’s more convenient for them. And, all this, because we’re not just members of a society, but are swiftly — whether we like it or not — becoming part of a community.
Now, the important thing to remember is that this is not all one-way. If an emergency comes up and we need to have the kids looked after, even overnight or for a couple of days, I have somewhere to go. I’ve got the number of another friend who assures me his mobile is on 24×7 and who would be more than happy to handle any Malay-language issues we may have in case of a sudden calamity. If we’re hungry and penniless, there are people who will feed us, and who will help us find jobs or take up a collection to help, or give us clothes, or help find buyers for any assets we may want to get rid of.
There’s an old lady with bad arthritis and breathing difficulties who wants to show me the best place to buy fresh spices. “Just drop by any time, and I’ll go with you.” There’s someone else who’s introduced us to possible employment leads. There’s another who vets all tradesmen who come and do work at our house because he considers that to be part of his job as our friend.
And all because I planted a few fruit trees and we make a kettle of green tea every now and then. A worthy sacrifice, I think.
I’ve always heard that Italian society is close-knit — although I am more than dismayed by their attitude to the recent influx of immigrants — and hope this community spirit helps everyone affected by the earthquake, migrant or not. After all, are we not all human?
