A brief encounter with human frailty

Irving Saulwick  — principal of Irving Saulwick and Associates, the polling and social research organisation —

is reminded of some dangerous ideas while strolling in St Kilda

From a distance it was difficult to see whether the approaching figure was a man or a woman. It was certainly an elderly person, moving slowly and awkwardly, using a stick. And whistling. A shrill, piercing almost continuous whistle. As the figure came closer the whistling stopped, and the now discernible woman was joined by her large black Labrador cross. She walked along the Esplanade towards where we were sitting looking out over the brilliantly blue autumn water.

"That's a nice dog," we said, as she paused in front of us.

"She is twenty," the woman replied. "She looks after me. St Kilda is dangerous these days."

She looked at me and asked, "Are you Jewish?"

"Yes," I said. And I asked, "Do you speak to your in Yiddish?"

 "I'm German," she said. "Not Jewish. And she repeated her question, this time in the form of a statement: "You are Jewish?" 
"Yes," I said again.

"St Kilda is changing," she said. "It's no longer safe. The world is not safe either."

"War is bad," she added, not so much as an afterthought, but rather as an emphasis.

And then she said: "I can't talk to Jewish people around here. They want to talk about their war. They won't listen to me. I say war is bad. I say that Sharon is a war criminal. They won't listen."

"I agree that war is terrible," I said. "But you can understand the Holocaust survivors and here. After all, six million of their fellow Jews were killed in Germany."

"It didn't happen," she said.

"Surely you can't deny that six million Jews were murdered," I said with a note of incredulity in my voice.

"It didn't happen," she repeated. "There weren't six million German Jews anyway."

"But they were brought from Poland and the Baltic states and from Hungary and Greece and Italy and other parts of Europe to be killed," I said.

"No, it's not true," she insisted.

Although she was elderly and had slightly protruding eyes, she didn't appear to be stupid. Yet she had this stupid idea.

Since this encounter I have thought  about our brief conversation. It seems that we humans, including this woman and even myself, are and perhaps have always been capable of accepting almost any belief, however improbable it may be, and holding fast to it. This ability, if one may call it that, seems to have little to do with education or intelligence or socio-economic status or any other credible indicator or cognitive development.

In the past, this might have led to horrific social or personal problems, but the consequences of this human attribute were usually limited.

Certainly there have been some horrendous slaughters in history, especially after the fall of the Roman empire. And we know that witches were burnt at the stake, Jews were killed by the Inquisition, Muslims were attacked by non-Muslims in the name of faith. Nevertheless, the mass of people carried on. Humankind itself was not at risk. We did not have the capacity to endanger the continued existence of the human species. It seems tome that today the situation is quite different.

When, as a social researcher, I explore the beliefs of my fellow citizens, I find rich and variegated belief patterns. Some appear to be based on years of thought and study, some have perhaps been inherited, some may have just been picked up. Some seem to derive from pure prejudice.

Let me offer a few examples which may not differ too much in substance from the belief held by the woman with the dog that the Holocaust did not happen:

� A belief that some groups of people and some races are 'inferior' to others — and in particular that some are less intelligent than others, or less worthy of support, or of succour, or of compassion than others. The support for phrenology in the late 19th century is an example of false science leading to false beliefs.      

�A belief that bone's own ideas and value systems, and in particular one's own social or moral or religious beliefs and values are 'right' and that any set that differs from them is 'wrong'. Because many of us know so little about other people's belief systems, it is easy and perhaps natural to believe that the ones we were brought up with are or should be universally accepted.

�A belief that one's countrymen and -women have acted morally in times of war —and would always do so. Who among us has not at least been tempted by this belief?

�A belief in the moral integrity of one's own country and the consequent belief that one is bound to support the actions of one's own country. "My country, right or wrong" has often had a powerful appeal.

As the world gets smaller, and as technology continues to increase the destructive power of individuals and nations, these tribal prejudices become increasingly lethal. And this is particularly worrying if one accepts that the ability to hold beliefs irrespective of their veracity or any evidence to the contrary seems to be an intrinsic part of our make-up. It is as though the instinct for tribalism, which might once have protected us, is now turning against us and at the extreme may threaten our very existence.

To what extent are we training ourselves and our children to understand and confront these human frailties? To what extent will this inheritance turn out to be our poisoned challice?

The irony is that our St Kilda neighbour was probably an ordinary and upright person. As we closed our brief encounter, I said: "I wish you well."

"You are nice people," she replied. 

  

Fredrick Töben comments

Interestingly, at law I am not permitted to respond to this article by supporting the 'old lady's belief.

This rather transparent story attempts to suggest that the so-called 'deniers' are peddling a 'dangerous' idea.

 Dangerous for whom? Factual information cannot be dangerous, only to those who fear and hate truth.