Trivializing tragedy

Except for right here, right now, at Princeton University.

I cannot, and do not, purport to speak for everyone at this school. I do not know how you all spent your day. I was not in every class, cafe and bedroom seeing how all of you coped with hearing the news. But I can tell you what I did see.

I saw people walk by the lounge where I watched updates from ABC News with flashing headlines such as “EXPLOSION IN BOSTON,” and they either did not notice or gave a cursory look and passed by. I saw a grand total of three people in the dining hall look at the unfolding story on TV, while the rest of the diners laughed and ate with their friends. I saw my teacher ask people in my night class how everyone was doing today, and I saw everyone enthusiastically reply positively. One person mentioned the bombing, and everyone gave a sympathetic sigh before letting the incident pass without further discussion.

Maybe the vast majority of Princeton students are just good at hiding how they feel. Or maybe they don’t fully understand the implications of what happened today. But I’m not here to explain the significance of an attack on the American homeland or the chilling fact that our government has virtually no clue right now who planted the bombs or why.

What I want to talk about is the person who walked by the lounge with ABC News on, saw the death total of three, shrugged her shoulders and walked away.

I want to talk about the way most of the people I saw today acted as if nothing had happened and seemed confused about why I was upset.

I want to talk about what happened in Boston with one another, instead of brushing it off as something that happened 268 miles away.

Now, I am not saying that people aren’t “sufficiently” afraid or sad. I am not upset about the lack of any specific emotion. I am upset about the seeming lack of any emotion whatsoever. Princeton has a reputation for being apathetic and aloof, and this is partially a function of our geography. Our university is suburban, isolated and beautiful. Things like a bombing in Boston or a civil war in Syria seem so far away, as if they aren’t even real. But that is the real world. Princeton isn’t.

Every single one of us is privileged to be here. The first thing one of my friends said after hearing about the bombing was “Thank God I live in Bumblefuck, Princeton.” And it is truly something to be thankful for. We are safe, surrounded by limitless opportunity for learning and intellectual growth. The horrors of war, of death, are kept far off, allowing us the chance to see things from an objective vantage point. But this does not mean we should become isolated and inward-looking. Our privilege comes with a duty to lend our perspective to the discussion.

There is something profoundly ignorant about hearing news like this and not pausing to consider its effects. There is something wholly selfish in being satisfied, knowing your family and friends are safe for the moment, while over a hundred fellow citizens lie in hospitals. And there is something disturbingly immoral in continuing on as if nothing happened, in shrugging off three deaths in Boston or 55 deaths in Iraq today or 70,000 in Syria since 2011.

I do not know what will happen in the coming days. Maybe as more information comes in, more people will begin to take a greater interest in the story. Maybe this incident will prompt us to take a closer look at what happens outside of our beautiful bubble. But to remain indifferent is unjustifiable, not just to the world, but to ourselves.

Andrew Hanna is a freshman from Watchung, N.J. He can be reached at ahanna@princeton.edu.