Compassion is about acts, not just words - The Centre for Independent Studies
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Compassion is about acts, not just words

During the third week of Advent we are being confronted with a political choice: do we say "Merry Christmas" or not?

John Howard's Christmas card reads: "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year". Mark Latham has chosen differently. His card features a cartoon of a dog dressed as Santa being snowed on. The message inside reads: "Wishing you the very best for the festive season and the New Year".

Latham's effort would be described, by some, as a "nice gesture". It doesn't offend anybody.

But is being "nice" really doing us any good? Niceness is saying what you feel other people want to hear. It is what changes the ethical imperative of "Love thy neighbour" to the institutionalised tolerance of "Whatever you do, don't say Merry Christmas and that's an order".

Niceness has substituted sentimentality for compassion. And the difference is vital.

The most famous story about compassion tells us of a man who fell among robbers and was stripped, beaten and left half dead.

But a Samaritan (a foreigner not expected to show sympathy to Jews) came to where he was. And the Good Samaritan had compassion.

He was confronted with a situation. He knew that, in the eyes of the victim, he was a pariah. But he did what had to be done. Then he went on his way.

It is telling that the Gospel account does not tell us what the Good Samaritan felt. No tears are shed. No caring utterance like: "I feel your pain" is spoken.

To some younger readers this may seem odd.

This is because contemporary culture downplays doing good for others and values feeling good about our feelings.

As British author Patrick West argues in his book Conspicuous Compassion: "If the Good Samaritan had been raised in a culture like ours, he would have walked on by and made a long-winded speech in the temple calling upon the Romans to tackle the root causes of social exclusion in Judea."

He would have made a good-sounding empty gesture. Like saying sorry in response to Aboriginal suffering and thinking that you have done something.

In 1995, Sir Ronald Wilson conceived of a national Sorry Day during which all who wanted could express their sorrow.

But while emoting sentimentality might make some people feel satisfied about themselves, it can often do great harm.

As Labor's most senior Aboriginal figure, Warren Mundine, said last week: "An apology is not going to change a person's life in Wilcannia." Mr Mundine has said more, complaining that the ALP was being "touchy-feely and nice and politically correct, but what we have created throughout the last 30 years has failed".

Mundine is talking about three wasted decades during which we have talked about "rights" instead of addressing wrongs.

"What is human rights abuse?" he asks. "Isn't a man flogging his wife with a stick human rights abuse? What about these poor women?"

It is instructive to recall that in the past, when some journalists have written about wife abuse in Aboriginal communities, they have been labelled "racist".

It was judged to be not "nice" to say that Aboriginal Australians are flawed humans, as all Australians.

Similarly it was deemed "incorrect" to say Merry Christmas because it would offend Muslims.

But the letters pages of our newspapers have carried stern rebukes to this tosh. Muslim leaders state bluntly that they are deeply offended at being continually told that they are offended by the Christmas season. They are not.

Patrick West argues that the flaw of vainglorious self-deception has corrupted politics. It has been unquestioned, he says, that to show feelings about public events and public figures demonstrates superiority of soul.

But conspicuous compassion, he concludes, is mere egotistical indulgence fuelling political impotence. Showing others that you care is not really caring at all.

Noel Pearson has repeatedly attacked the "reality-evading progressive left" for their sentimental stand on Aboriginal affairs.

And as Senator Amanda Vanstone succinctly explained: "Conspicuous compassion may make some people feel better, but it doesn't provide more health care, it doesn't provide education, in fact it doesn't do anything practical."

So how should we approach this Christmas? Emile Durkheim understood religion as expressing a "happy confidence".

Sentimentalists, to the contrary, wallow in miserable distrust. They have forgotten the lesson of the Good Samaritan. You don't have to assume the persona of a misery guts in order to do good.

Paul Comrie-Thomson wrote the introduction to the Australian edition of Patrick West's Conspicuous Compassion, published this week by The Centre for Independent Studies.