Fri 20 Apr 2007
One of my favorite short stories of all time is Philip Roth’s “The Conversion of the Jews,” which is part of the Goodbye, Columbus collection. In fact, that story started me down the path to atheism, if you don’t count the short detour to Christianity prompted by my unrequited crush on a hunky but strait-laced Born Again.
Anyway, in the story the main character, Ozzie, is struggling with his religious faith. A number of things about Judaism confuse and irritate him; among them, he mentions his parents’ tendency to read the newspaper and evaluate every story on the basis of whether it is “good for the Jews” or “not good for the Jews.” If a disaster occurs and there are Jewish names among the victims, it’s Not Good for the Jews. If a Jewish person commits a crime, it’s Not Good for the Jews, and so on.
I thought of this the other day when news of the Virginia Tech shooting began to emerge. When I heard the shooter was Asian I was surprised, since my knee-jerk reaction was “But Asians are not violent!” (As I noted here, the tendency to stereotype is part of the human condition, and I am not immune.) My next thought was, “Well, I hope he’s not Korean” — this was uncharitable, as it is tantamount to hoping that some other ethnicity gets to take the heat for his actions. Then, when I found out he was Korean, I thought, “This is Not Good for the Koreans.”
Reading and watching the news coverage today, I’m struck by the number of Koreans who had the same thought. All over the country, Koreans are telling each other to keep their heads down, stay indoors, lie low. A number are expressing shame and sorrow that a Korean man committed these atrocities. The director of our adoption agency wrote an e-mail advising us on how to broach the topic with our children to help them handle any negative comments from their friends.
I hope their fears are unfounded. I hope that the American public would not condemn ethnic Koreans for the actions of one mentally disturbed man. But even if everyone behaves well, I think the Korean people will still feel that it was a terrible day for their people. It’s the flip side of the coin of national pride: national shame. I think as proud as we are of our own country, Americans almost never feel that.
April 20th, 2007 at 4:08 pm
You don’t think Americans feel national shame? I certainly do, and thus am sometimes accused of “hating my country,” which I don’t, though I certainly am ashamed of many of my country’s actions. Judging from the turnout at the big peace rally in DC this past January, I know I’m not alone.
Sadly, though, you’re probably right that the majority of Americans are immune from national shame. If that weren’t the case, we wouldn’t have a president with a 4 letter last name.
April 20th, 2007 at 5:14 pm
I like almost all of Philip Roth’s stuff, especially that particular story - laughed till I had tears in my eyes “Be a Martin! Be a Martin!” Too funny.
I find it sad that we have to judge Cho or whatever his name was by his nationality. In my mind, he was a deeply disturbed person, not a disturbed Korean nor a disturbed American.
April 20th, 2007 at 9:03 pm
Over here in the geekosphere, you sentiments are echoed by Don Park. Yours is the post I wish I could have written.
April 20th, 2007 at 10:33 pm
Hi Denise. As you wrote, pride and shame goes hand in hand and it’s natural to feel ashamed in times like this.
On the subject of pride, I think pride should be kept close to heart and used like a hearth. When it’s worn outside and used like a badge, problems start.
May 25th, 2007 at 9:28 am
Yeah, that whole incident Wasn’t Good For The Crazy People either.
I lost track of the number of times I read/heard comments that week about how all people who have ever sought mental health care should be locked up indefinitely. Because, you know, that’s the kind of supportive atmosphere that encourages people to get help. Yes, indeedy.
I can’t help but wonder if stalkers nationwide were sitting around muttering “Boy, this is Not Good For The GunToting Stalkers.”