In Defense of the Good

Those who are trying to do good, don't need criticism from those who aren't. It is odd to think there would even be people in the world who are not trying to do good. But some will even ADMIT that they could care less about what happens to other people. And if someone says that, then they mean it. Because it takes a selfish person to say it aloud. There are probably some borderline people, too, who feel that but don't actually verbalize and commit this gross admittance aloud, so if someone does say it....then they must mean it.

My point is this. So many people have been criticized for telling stories and “not doing enough”. Invisible Children, Three Cups of Tea, Soles for Souls, even sweet Ishmael Beah, the child soldier who daringly shared his heart in his memoir A Long Way Gone, has been called a fraud because his map wasn't to scale and perhaps his recounting of his years as a child soldier don't exactly line up with where reported skirmishes were said to have happened. Really? Is it that hard to believe that a child, strung out on cocaine, who has been given a gun and placed in front of Rambo for hours on end might mess up a detail or two?

  People: look at the big picture – the real picture. Our society is deranged if we can hear these stories and turn around and criticize their work because, while we were sitting on our couch eating pizza, these story sharers were finding ways to make change.

I want to write a defense on their behalf.

I want to ask them how hard it was to get started. How they got going..and when did they hear their first criticisms? Did it affect them like it affects me? Advice for others? Why do you think people attack like this? How damaging is it really to your cause? When will you know to move on? When should we? Did it ever stop being about others and start being about you? Did you “Frankenstein” about it? What is the cost of selflessness?

All of these questions loom around every news coverage I hear trying to expose truth. In reality, they are only covering it. Quieting a long struggle and pulling away a mic from an already quiet voice.

This is the coward's response: to take away the ugly because we are uncomfortable with it. If we can just wake up and drink our Starbucks and jump into our day, then we are content. When a story is heartbreaking, it is sad and we can nod or pray. But when the empty worthless character becomes a hero though, the story changes. Ideally, it changes us. But, along with the inspiring nudge to be more, comes the guilt of having done less. So there is a faction that will dig for a way out without ever gaining courage. Hiding the picture, twisting the image and shifting the focus so that the hero is gone. Taking away Superman means it is okay to be satisfied with Clark Kent. After all, he is attractive and intelligent looking with those glasses. And when Superman is gone, we decide that we are okay. We don't even know there is a train falling off a cliff over there. So we can go back to work, make dinner, clean our homes, and rest our heads with self esteem and safety. It is a prettier picture. Because not knowing that Ishmael, or Elie Wiesel exist makes us safely ignorant of pain. And not knowing of Jason Russel or Greg Mortenson means that some problems are just too big to tackle ourselves. We can take our $200 and just pass go.  I argue that this is the uglier picture and it is a snapshot of ourselves.