Charlie Gard finally at peace

Initially, it felt wrong to say much more about it than that. So I didn’t.

A day has passed.

Many lessons are being learned, and Charlie Gard’s life and death have not been in vain. I too will be doing a write-up. For the sake of future Charlies and future babies’ parents, but also for the sake – I hope – of all the people who were touched by Charlie Gard’s short life. Towards greater understanding, I hope. Towards more compassion, too.

(Personally, I primarily do it to learn from it and because I enjoy the analytical process and the reasoning. But all the people who write about these issues help pave the way to a future in which we deal with such situations much more elegantly.)

I too felt torn the way everybody else seemed to be torn, and I too generally responded more emotionally rather than rationally to what I read here and there, and I too, like almost everybody else, didn’t have many facts.

Charlie Gard’s condition fell within my definition – not my feelings! – of what constitutes a life not worth living. We need objective definitions to prevent inequality and injustice, and, more importantly, to prevent harm.

I also seem to have managed to define harm for situations like these a while back, and having let Charlie Gard try the nucleoside therapy does not appear to qualify as such within my definition (which I need to write up properly). Whether or not Michio Hirano had a financial interest in the matter is immaterial.

So I have a lot of thinking – and writing – ahead of me, but it looks like my definitions continue to hold up. That comes as a surprise. It makes me conclude that I may be doing something good and useful, something worthwhile exploring.

That’s scary – for several reasons – and powerful – empowering – at the same time.

I will soon post something about my own experiences with this kind of pain and suffering – the medical kinds of pain of suffering – in view of the fact that I say so many things about other people’s pain and suffering in such situations, in what may occasionally come across as a cold and calculated manner to some.

Solidarity and compassion

There are two kinds of solidarity. Exclusive solidarity is essentially protectionism. Groups rally to stand up for their own kind and do each other favors such as recommend each other and give each other jobs. It exists on the basis of what divides us, what makes us different from others.

Birds do this too. If you are observant and like being outdoors, for instance go for walks, you may on occasion have seen crows appearing from all sides and forming a circle around a crow attacked by someone’s dog. You can also occasionally hear a lot of loud cackling, look up and see a group of magpies around a cat that has climbed into a tree.

Inclusive solidarity, on the other hand, is much closer to compassion. It does not ask many questions and exists on the basis of what we have in common.

Birds do this as well. If for example you happen to have lived with certain parrots, you may be quite familiar with this. I adopted two quaker parrots in 1994 and they both stood up for my cats if they thought some harm might be happening to one of my cats, for example if I had to stuff a pill into a cat’s mouth and make sure the cat swallowed it, for a very good reason. This happened regardless of whether the cat in question was kind to birds or not.

Birds are capable of compassion because they appear to have something called “theory of mind” just like humans do.

I have seen one of my little parrots quickly step forward and snatch a bit of feces off the other bird. It was stuck to a feather. That other bird never even noticed what happened. This was an act of selfless compassion based on the first bird’s reasoning that she would not want to have feces stuck to her own butt and therefore the other bird probably wouldn’t like it either.

I have two kinds of confirmation for this.

In the past, I have seen that particular bird come running down a series of perches (in a huge cage) and then stop short to avoid stepping into fresh feces.

This particular bird was a pretty intelligent rascal who went through phases of pranks involving feces. For a while, she took great delight in pressing her butt against the bars of the open cage to help her aim and then pelt poop at my shoes whenever I sat reading in a chair near the cage, for example. Poopball. Goal! This means that the bird assumed that I would not like getting feces on me and also that she knew that getting feces on my shoes wasn’t so bad.

This bird has forever changed the way I look at birds. I used to see birds as completely devoid of anything resembling human intelligence. Birds flew, hopped and tweeted. That was it. Oh, and they laid eggs, too. Particularly the flying made me experience them as distant, I presume. Removed. Different.

I couldn’t have been more wrong about that.

I still remember the look that parrot – the longest-living of the two – gave me when I apologized to her for it having taken me so long to realize how intelligent she was. How stupid the two of them must have thought we humans were and how desperate they must have felt at times. “Is she ever going to get it?” She was a very wise one, that one. (She started showing me, by anticipating my moves and wishes and acting on them, all by herself. The first time that happened I was stunned.)

We’d all do ourselves a favor if we could focus more on inclusive solidarity and less on protectionism. I believe we’re slowly getting there.