When did We Become So Cold?

"A little bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just."

Pope Francis

Recently, I witnessed a distressing event at a train station that made me question our collective compassion, or lack thereof.

It was a warm afternoon when I headed to catch my train. As I waited on the platform, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up, and instinctively turned my head toward the noise. A woman who stood about 10 metres away, probably in her mid-thirties, had just vomited in the waiting area of the platform, her face a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. Although at least ten people stood around her, nobody offered to help or even check if she was okay. One of them got up and walked away! It felt surreal, like watching a scene unfold in slow motion. Everyone was drawn in like onlookers at a train wreck, yet no one was willing to step up and take action.

Balancing a heavy violin in a wooden case and a racing mind filled with my own troubles, I fumbled through my bag for tissues. Finally, I retrieved them, but I couldn’t help but feel frustrated by those who ignored the situation. I walked over to the woman. As I approached, I knew, to get near enough, I could be stepping on her vomit. However, at that moment, I felt this concern was unimportant, or I didn't care for my shoes very much. I handed her the tissues. “Thank you,” she replied, but her eyes revealed so much more—distress, embarrassment, and a sense of helplessness.

I stood there, glancing at the crowd, hoping someone would step up and show some humanity. I wanted to shout, “Is no one going to help?!” Yet, all I got in return was indifference. Some individuals deliberately avoided eye contact with her, as if pretending she wasn’t there would solve the problem. It was disappointing, to say the least. How had we become so detached that we could witness someone in need and simply look the other way? I felt angry, not just at the bystanders, but at myself for not doing more.

In my quest for assistance, I scanned the area for a staff member or someone in uniform who could lend a hand. Surely, someone was on duty to handle emergencies, right? But as I looked around, I realised I was alone in that crowded space. Numerous people stood by, all assuming someone else would do something. When I glanced back at the woman, instead of using my tissues to clean herself, she had, very considerately, cleaned up the mess around her as much as she could.

As the train approached, I made the tough choice to leave. I wasn’t just frustrated with the crowd, I felt disheartened by our society as a whole. Why have we allowed ourselves to become so desensitised? This moment impacted me deeply, forcing me to rethink the values we often take for granted.

On my journey to my next appointment, I could not shake the image of that woman’s pained face. I replayed the event in my mind, wishing I could have done more. I hoped, too, that maybe someone else surrounded by her suffering would finally take an active role.

When did we become so cold? Perhaps the more pressing question is, “When will we choose to be warm again?”