Killing Mockingbirds

The house looks a bit slummy this week, because I have been re-reading To Kill A Mockingbird instead. This has been my third reading over twenty five years, and it gets better each time. Mind you, most books are more fun than cleaning the bathroom.

Atticus Finch. Now, not only does he have one of the best names in the history of literature, he is also an excellent role model. Every night he sits in his armchair after dinner, reading the night away. Now, why can't I do this? I try, believe me, but inevitably A Domestic Crisis takes hold. The dog escapes out of the front door and chases the cats up the street, with all the children running after them and yelling. Someone loses a vital doohickey that they need for school the next day, or develops a fever, or tips over the bird cage, or 'remembers' an entire Art project due tomorrow or wants to play the flute for me. Clearly I am doing the parenting thing wrong, and I will have to go back to the text for more clues on after-dinner child-wrangling.

But apart from his excellent parenting skills, Atticus Finch turned a light on for me this week.

I don't have to change the world.
I don't have to change the world.
I don't have to change the world.

There is a bit of a cult of the superhero in our society. We are supposed to be great. All of us. If We Only Set Our Minds To It, We Can Do Anything. We know this, because Oprah tells us so. And so many of us are idealists. We do want to change the world. We want to make a difference. But the truth is, most of us live small, unregarded lives. We may influence our families, our neighbours, our friends. Or maybe not even them, because, despite the fact that we are Clearly Right, some people just have minds of their own. And this is an appalling realisation for those of us who are idealists and also sensitive to the superhero myth. We want to be stars as a force for good, but instead we are only tiny little twinkly fairy lights. And we have temper tantrums and kick the furniture, then throw up our hands in despair and decide that trying to change the world is pointless, and that living any way that is any different to our neighbours is completely pointless, because nobody cares.

And this is where Atticus Finch has become my shining light. Atticus Finch knew what was right. He knew that many of his neighbours and countrymen thought he was an idiot and a traitor. He chooses to defend a black man falsely accused of rape because it is the right thing to do. He knows he will lose the case. He takes it anyway, because as he explains to his perplexed brother, if he doesn't take it, he won't be able to live with himself, and he won't be able to face his children. He chooses not to kill the innocent mockingbird, not to wash his hands of the death of the mockingbird, but to fight for its life with everything he has.

That, right there, is the thought I want to hold onto. I, personally, can do nothing to make the tiniest dint in global climate change. I can't right the injustices of the world that put money before people or start wars for resources. The world is full of innocent mockingbirds though; humans, animals, trees, oceans. And all around us the greed and stupidity of governments and corporations is killing the mockingbirds, and most of us do nothing, because we cannot see any way to fix the problem.

But, I don't have to change the world. Atticus Finch did not change his world. He lost his case, but he fought hard for it. He caused some of his neighbours and countrymen to face some unpalatable facts. I don't have to change the world. I just need to be able to live with myself, and be able to face my children.

Even that feels ridiculously hard of course. What is the right way to live? How can I live without profiting from someone else's misery? So much of my privileged life is lived at the expense of someone far away who has no choice but to mine the gold for my jewellery in appalling conditions or have their children born with birth defects because of the defoliants used on the cotton my t-shirt is made from, or have their sons die in a war over oil so I can drive my children to the beach, or fly them to Bali for a holiday. Where do you draw the line in that project? I have no idea, I really don't. But I have to start, and I have to ask the questions, so that I will be able to live with myself, and face the children.

PS After writing this I left it for a bit and went and walked the dog. Before we acquired the dog I needed to take long, hot showers to arrive at clarity over difficult problems. But now I have discovered that walking the dog has the same effect. You don't often see that tip in energy-saving manuals. 'Save electricity by getting a dog' - this fact should be more widely disseminated.

Anyway, it has occurred to me that personal angst and guilt, while being one of my most well-worn responses to almost everything in life, are not particularly effective here (or most places, yes, yes). The truth is, I do not know a single person who wants children to be born with birth defects. I did not ask anyone to start a war in the Middle East for me. I do not want chickens to be de-beaked so I can have cheap eggs. I do not not want Pacific island nations to be swept away by rising sea levels. I did not ask for any of this! Governments, institutions and powerful people have arranged my life so that these outcomes are part of 'normal'. Well, not in my name, and not any more! It is going to be bloody inconvenient to rearrange my life so that I am not inadvertently contributing to the death of mockingbirds, but I am going to do it if it takes me my whole life, and I am going to be bloody angry about it as well.

So do watch out for the irritable middle-aged woman, dressed like a bag-lady and walking a dog. She is no doubt having an existential crisis. Probably best to give her a wide berth. Although she is likely essentially harmless she does appear to be muttering a lot..