A funny but apt analogy … source Quora.com, posted by S. Amin

Why can’t India and Pakistan make peace?Originally Answered: Why not India and Pakistan can make peace?

A man was travelling through a muddy road when his car got suddenly trapped in the pool of mud. He tried very hard to move but his car failed to come out of it.

Suddenly, he saw a villager coming toward him in his bullock cart.

Once the bullock cart came near, he requested him to pull his car out of mud. A deal of Rs 100 was negotiated between them for the work and the villager pulled the car using his bullocks.

The man felt greatly relieved and paid him the money.

He then asked the villager, “There may be so many cars that would be getting trapped in this mud.”

He then asked the villager, “There may be so many cars that would be getting trapped in this mud.”

Villager: “True sir. You are the seventh person since morning whose car got trapped in this mud.”

Man: “Oh my God! Did you have to pull all of them.”

Villager: “Yes Sir.”

Man: “You must be busy full day pulling the cars from the mud having no time to do your own work.”

Villager: “Very True Sir. I have to do all my work in night only.”

Man: “Oh I see! By the way, what work you do in night.”

Villager: “I just ensure that this mud is never dry.”

There are so many people on both sides of the India-Pakistan border who ensure that the mud is never dry.

The rise of the bystander as a complicit historical actor-By Dennis Klien

At about 3 o’clock one morning in the early spring of 1964, Kitty Genovese, 28, arrived home from the bar in New York City where she worked, as she did morning after morning. While she walked in darkness from the lot where she’d parked her car, an assailant attacked her, drove away and then returned to assault her some more. Genovese repeatedly screamed for help. Several neighbours reported hearing her but, as the story goes, no one answered her calls. The assailant left her eventually to die.

The New York Times gave the incident routine coverage: Genovese was one more victim of brutal assault on the streets of the city. But a couple of weeks later, the story made front-page news. There were no new facts or startling discoveries; what was new was the reframing of the story: where were the neighbours? How could they so heartlessly ignore the victim’s cries for help? What was just another violent crime turned into a sensational murder case. Genovese became a household name associated with what grew into a controversial story about bystanders and their complicit silence. The residents of the Mowbray, an apartment complex in Queens across the street from the crime scene, were in the unenviable position of having to defend themselves from international criticism. They asserted that it was, after all, three in the morning and they were asleep – moreover, with windows shut tight against the outside cold. Some claimed that, even if they’d called the police, they wouldn’t have responded to yet another street crime.

Bystander incrimination has taken root. Over time, bystanders were called out for summary condemnation. The activist Abbie Hoffman remarked: ‘And so you ask, “What about innocent bystanders?” But we are in a time of revolution. If you are a bystander, you are not innocent.’ The political philosopher Hannah Arendt, also writing in the 1960s, made the point by referring to the requirements of civil conduct: our ‘vicarious responsibility for things we have not done, this taking upon ourselves the consequences for things we are entirely innocent of, is the price we pay for the fact that we live our lives not by ourselves but among our fellow [citizens].’

The alleged responsibilities of bystanders acquired such moral force that critics have pushed back. Victoria Barnett, author of Bystanders: Conscience and Complicity During the Holocaust (1999), asked: ‘What lies beneath the surface [of silence]?’ suggesting that fear or perpetrator allegiance explains the reticence of onlookers. Henrik Edgren, another scholar who has written about bystanders, posits assertions that are similarly exculpatory, explaining that bystanders are often coerced from interfering in harmful acts. Offering canonic justification for bystander inertia, the evidence-based theory of the bystander effect proposed in 1968 by the social psychologists John Darley and Bibb Latané argued that onlookers fail to intervene when they believe that others will.

The presumption of bystanders’ responsibility has, however, crystallised into the predominant opinion. Good Samaritan laws ratify intervention and protect ‘upstanders’ from liability. Bystander intervention is now axiomatic, a paragon of civic behaviour. Consider, by contrast, an image from the Tulsa race massacre of 1921 in Oklahoma: men and women blithely go about their business while the city within view burns. Images of lynchings are also revealing: onlookers, hardly indifferent, are downright jubilant. Nazi authorities made a point of including onlookers in their documentation of persecution. Edgren is no doubt right about the risks of intervention, but it is just as likely that German onlookers felt lucky to be on the right side of history or were even impressed with the clarity that the Nazis achieved about who belonged to the new Germany and who didn’t. Other images from the Nazi period confirm that looking on was acceptable behaviour, if not a joyful experience, often serving to bind observers into a community of privileged insiders. Images of Kristallnacht, for example, show spectators gazing inertly at a burning synagogue and urban passers-by oblivious to the effects of racially inspired vandalism.

Full article

posted by f.sheikh

Vulnerable Yet Vital

The dance of love and lore between grandparent and grandchild is at the center, not the fringes, of our evolutionary story.

On an evolutionary timescale, Homo sapiens emerged only quite recently. Yet in that short time, we have evolved a particularly weird life history, with a much longer childhood and old age than other animals. In particular, we’re very different from our closest primate relatives. By at least age seven, chimpanzees provide as much food as they consume, and they rarely live past 50 – there’s no chimp equivalent of human menopause. Even in forager cultures, where growing up is accelerated, children aren’t self-sufficient until they’re at least 15. What’s more, even in communities without access to modern medicine, if you make it past childhood you might well live into your 70s. We live some 20 years longer than chimpanzees and, except for a few whale species, particularly orcas, we are the only mammals who systematically outlive our fertility.

The extended childhood is especially puzzling because, as parents know, children are expensive, and that was true long before college tuition and summer camp. Adults have always had to feed and protect the young, and early human brain development uses up a tremendous amount of energy – more than 60 per cent of four-year-olds’ calories go to the brain at rest, compared with around 20 per cent for adults. Humans also have babies every couple of years, much more frequently than chimps, so they stack up even more of those helpless, hungry-brained children.

Chimpanzee mothers do almost all the childrearing. But humans evolved exceptionally extended and varied sources of caregiving to deal with their costly babies, including fathers who take care of the kids, post-menopausal grandmothers, and ‘alloparents’ – other people who help to raise children. Prairie-vole dads, orca-whale grandmothers and rhesus-monkey alloparents also help to raise babies, but these kinds of care are rare among mammals. No other species except humans appears to have all three kinds of care.

These changes in life history evolved at the same time as dramatic changes in human brains and minds. We have many more neurons than other primates. And we developed striking abilities to learn and invent, communicate and cooperate, and create and transmit culture. New analyses of fossil records show that humans evolved their large brains and distinctive capacities in parallel with their longer childhood and old age. Our unique human vulnerabilities somehow emerged in concert with our unique human strengths. Just how are these two kinds of changes related? Researchers from biology, psychology and anthropology have recently begun to work together in order to answer these questions – answers that help to explain what makes us distinctively human.

https://aeon.co/essays/why-childhood-and-old-age-are-key-to-our-human-capacities?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=71c4f05265-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2020_11_08_11_17&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_411a82e59d-71c4f05265-69109725http://www.thinkersforumusablog.org/wp-admin/post-new.php