Heroes should inspire us to defend the vulnerable

Arescue line from a helicopter dangles over the icy waters above an empty space where Arland Williams had been moments before. This is the image I call to mind when I am feeling awash in cynicism. Williams was one of six passengers who had emerged from the wreck of Air Florida Flight 90 after the plane crashed into the frigid Potomac River on Jan. 13, 1982. Williams passed the rescue line to the other survivors one by one before succumbing to the waves. When I look back I can see our green shag carpet, the bulky ’80s television console, and the empty space on the screen. The 37-year-old memory is a rescue line that pulls me from the depths.

During this dreary, rainsoaked week, as I struggled with a sense of futility, I thought of another hero, Kendrick Castillo, the teenager who gave his life to save his classmates from a gunman. Kendrick and his dad, John Castillo, had discussed what to

do when confronted by an armed assailant. “You don’t have to be the hero,” his dad said, but the young man said he wouldn’t hesitate to act.

Why are some people willing to risk their lives for others? After conducting 300 interviews with people who hid Jews during the Holocaust — such as Jozef and Wiktoria Ulma did — psychologist Dr. Eva Fogelman found such people shared several characteristics: They grew up in loving homes where children were encouraged to care about others different from themselves and they were independentminded and able to endure fear and anxiety. Moreover, those who stick up for others in lowstakes situations in everyday life are more likely to have the strength of character to do so under peril.

Most people will not have the opportunity to hide victims from a murderous regime, confront a gunman or save someone from drowning, but everyone has the opportunity to defend a bullied co-worker or store clerk or to stick up for a group of vulneratimes ble people who need defending. Most people will not have the opportunity to die for others, but they can certainly live for others.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t always happen. “1917: Lenin, Wilson, and the Birth of the New World Disorder,” a book I just finished, describes the lynching of Robert Prager, a GermanAmerican falsely accused of spying during World War I. The country was rife with antiGerman-American sentiment, and rumors of collusion gripped Collinsville, Ill. A mob stripped Prager naked, paraded him down the street and then hanged him. If only there had been one person in the mob who stood up for Prager, he may have lived. Perhaps there was and that lone voice was ignored.

Thousands of innocent African-Americans met the same fate over most of this nation’s history. Why didn’t more people speak up? Why were the few ignored by the many?

In a world of violence, somewords seem useless. The pen is not mightier than the sword. I am crushed by the apathy I see toward the plight of unborn children, refugees and other marginalized groups. I am frustrated by my inability to persuade others to care even a little.

To fight this paralyzing feeling of impotence, even as I write this column, I’m thinking about Arland Williams, Kendrick Castillo, Jozef and Wiktoria Ulma, and others. Comfortable, well fed, and safe as I am, my cynicism seems a little self-indulgent, frankly.

A student told me this past semester that duty is not what you have to do but what you get to do. It is a privilege to defend the vulnerable. John Quincy Adams once said, “The duty is ours. The results belong to God.” I know that kind and courageous kid Kendrick Castillo would have agreed. Justin Mock, Vice President of Finance and CFO; Bill Reynolds, Senior VP, Circulation and Production; Bob Kinney, Vice President, Information Technology