Icarus and Dr. P, Evil Hematologist

My left ear tickles with rage listening to Dr. D’s Phone-Answering Lady – same PAL who two weeks ago said blood work recommended by the State BORED of HEALTH couldn’t be performed in their office lab because it was a you-have-to-go-to-the-hospital thing as per we don’t do BORED WORK here, Sir!

But just one moment ah please don’t hang up!

Dr. P, Evil Hematologist, was recommended by this your very own office and now, for cheese sake, I may well have become infected with Hep B, Hep C, HIV, maybe all three. Could you at least TRY to be helpful?

(Breathe – ah, better. Much better. A moment to reconsider, take stock, delete what were, or would have been, the next 474 words of tedious venting.)

The point is Indifference. There is Evil Indifference, and there is Human Indifference.

My PAL, though not recruited into the Dr. P Evil Hematologist staff per se, nonetheless, like her counterparts, places higher value on chit chat minutes and digital solitaire than ensuring safe clean blood work for trusting souls.

This kind of indifference leads to turmoil, suffering and death, and is Evil. You may call this kind of indifference a product of laziness, incompetence, ignorance, stupidity, or what have you. I prefer to call it a product of Evil.

Here is another example. With the war winding down, Colonel Sink orders a night patrol across a river to capture three German prisoners for questioning. During the perilous operation, one of the American soldiers is wounded and dies shortly after the operation is completed. Three prisoners are taken; two survive the return back to camp. What precious tactical advantage is gained through this interrogation? Hitler’s favorite color is revealed?

A pleased as punch Colonel Sink receives praise from his peers and superiors for the bold but ultimately pointless stunt. Presumably prompted by the favorable reviews, the Colonel commands Captain Winters to repeat the operation the following night. He is to send the same men deeper into enemy territory on a more dangerous, equally senseless mission. Doesn’t matter that the outcome of the war has already been decided, and that German surrender is imminent.

It makes no sense to the battle-weary soldiers, but they are resigned to obedience and possible maiming or death. Captain Winters, however, recognizes the Evil Indifference of his superior officer and the following evening sends his men early to bed rather than across the river. The next day he reports to Colonel Sink that the men returned empty-handed this time (from the mini-series, Band of Brothers, based on the book, Band of Brothers, by Stephen Ambrose).

Indifference that is implicit in the turmoil, suffering, and death of others is Evil.

But there is a form of indifference that is at the core of our humanity that is not Evil, and is softened by docile resignation and detachment.

For example, when the wax holding Icarus’ wings in place melts because he flew too close to the sun, causing him to fall to his death, no one really gives a hoot.

In Brueghel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the plowman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

W.H. Auden, from Musee des Beaux Arts

First Brueghel, then Auden, make human indifference to tragedy frighteningly serene and oddly beautiful. We don’t see Daedalus’s mourning the death of his son. The anonymous plowman goes about his business, and we imagine invisible passengers comfortably lounged on the expensive ship sailing calmly by.

If you cup your hand about your better ear, and listen carefully, you may hear Paul McCartney’s voice above the still waters, “Obladi oblada, life goes on…”

Of course it does.

Rending our garments and gnashing our teeth will not resurrect the dead. We mourn our own only. To mourn all would surely incapacitate us. There would be no end to weeping. No faculties to continue to sow and reap. We would become an endangered species, careening toward extinction.

Or we would become, perhaps, more like God.

Tagged with: Auden • Band of Brothers • Icarus • Pieter Bruegel • Stephen Ambrose

Filed under: Just Talk

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