A family’s tragedy in Warwick and our desire to connect

With the Inter net as pass-key, millions of strangers let themselves in and out of each other’s lives. Witness the recent tragedy in Warwick, where Jocelyn Marcoux posted his frustrations with a custody battle on Facebook. Later that day, the charred bodies of Marcoux and his two children were found in a burned-out garage behind the family home in what police suspect was a double homicide and suicide.

A Gazette story on July 11 noted: “The fact that such a private family matter erupted so tragically and publicly seemed to strike a chord with Quebecers.

“People drove in from nearby Victoriaville and Asbestos to join onlookers outside the home on the leafy street with big yards.” People drove in? What did they expect to see? What did they hope to find?

More to the point, what was there to see?

There’s always been a certain personality drawn to the scene of an accident or devastation. People can, and do, take comfort in the presence of shared disbelief or sadness.

But as we grow less protective of our privacy in this digital age, or surrender it altogether, there seems a need to “personalize” what goes on far beyond our own four walls and families. The bandwidth on connectivity has broadened to include people we don’t know, have no need to know and otherwise would have never known, if not for a single, often tragic, incident thrusting them into the spotlight.

A desire to connect shows empathy. But the empathy of an outsider should be discreet: a charitable donation, a handwritten note, a bouquet of flowers left at a communal mourning site. Such expressions keep a respectful distance between the public and a family’s privacy.

Now, we personalize empathy by showing up at the scene.

Why? To soothe our own discomfort, to be reassured that messy lives may happen in nice houses on nice streets, but not in our backyards? And when misfortune strikes a life lived large and on display, do we feel entitled to gorge on the details just to feel grateful for our own anonymous existence?

An acquaintance, a mother of three with a realistic, if unfashionable, perspective on social behaviour, says she was discussing this at dinner recently. “We’re eager to embrace the troubles of strangers (on the Internet), but what about the neigh- bour down the street we don’t know who needs help?”

The answer won’t be found in technology, which aims to move us forward, but in a rear-view mirror, where wellbeing meant “a chicken in every pot,” not a smartphone in every hand.

Blame a culture that dotes on celebrity gossip and reality TV for spawning a sometimes unhealthy interest in the joys and miseries of others. But when inserting ourselves, however briefly and tenuously, into the lives of strangers, ask what purpose this really serves. And for whom.