Even if I often fail, I always hope that I am good and turned towards others — “good” in the sense of “always trying to do the right thing.” It is of course a wish, an aspiration; a subjective, imperfect moral compass. My desire to act on the world is not new. When I was little, I wanted to be a nun to devote my time to serving those in need, a desire that returns, without irony, once in a while when my life seems particularly futile. At the end of my bachelor’s degree in literature, I wondered if I should do a master’s degree and drop everything to go into social work and do “useful work.” After much reflection, I chose literature, always feeling like I wasn’t doing enough for others. Unsurprisingly, literature’s capacity for action on reality has always seemed limited to me, and these are limitations that I have accepted, telling myself nonetheless that I would try all my life to work for the common good, by redistributing my time, my energy, and my staff as best I could.
Between the housing crisis in Quebec that the Prime Minister attributes to immigration, the first round of the French elections in France where the far right won, the exoneration of Donald Trump and the unprecedented toughening of sentences for homeless people who camp or sleep in public spaces in the United States, it is clear that vulnerable people will become, in the West, more and more vulnerable and that there will be fewer and fewer resources to protect them. It seems to me that we must more than ever tend towards kindness. Not to compensate for a dramatic loss of social safety net, not to argue that individual responsibility must mop up government irresponsibility, but simply out of human duty.
This week, I was walking down the street with a friend before taking the subway in the middle of the afternoon. I saw a tall blind man with a cane trying to talk to people. Before getting on the subway, I told my friend that he looked like he needed help. I commented on the situation, but I don’t know if I would have really done anything if she hadn’t asked me if I wanted to go see him. We went to talk to him, he asked me to call someone, I dialed the number on my cell phone, someone would come and meet him soon. It was a very hot day, so while we waited for this person to arrive, she and I went to drive him to an air-conditioned coffee shop. My friend gave him some money for a soda. I left to catch my train. I felt like we hadn’t done enough, but at least we had done something.
This is not the first time that my capacity for direct action has increased because I am with someone. I would like to say that I am always as reactive: that would be wrong. I aspire to be good, often, I am not: I do not take the time. However, in these difficult times, when, rationally, it is clear that the lack of resources for people in need will continue to increase, I aspire – a pious wish if there ever was one, but why not formulate it – for us to push each other to help better, to help more. How can we make ourselves responsible in the face of vulnerability? We can no longer continue to pass by.