Nearer heroism

Near the center of London sits a small monument that is not very well known. It’s called the Memorial to Heroic Self Sacrifice, 50 feet long and nine feet high, a red tiled roof covering a wall which holds a series of panels/tablets which record the names of individuals and their dates and causes of death, all meant to commemorate ordinary people who died saving the lives of others.

When it was first proposed, as one of the ways to commemorate the Golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1887, it was rejected. That initial rejection and its relative lack of fame simply drive home the point about why such a monument was necessary.

The problem is that many see the ordinary and everyday as the opposite of the heroic.

Yesterday was National Heroes’ Day here in the Philippines, and I would think that every nation has their own equivalent celebration. Every society needs heroes; both because of what they do and what they mean, because of who they are and who they are seen to be. Heroes are how societies tell stories about themselves, how they define themselves and their moral character.

And when societies look for their heroes, the tendency is to seek out the larger-than-life, the extraordinary, those that live their life in the public eye. Those who changed the course of history are almost always those that are already in the position to do so, those in positions of power and privilege, the so-called “great.” It wasn’t so long ago that history itself was seen as the sole province of the great – great men specifically (and chauvinistically) – those seen as the prime movers of events. Heroism is located away from our daily lives, out of reach of most of us, and so when we look for heroes we look away and into the distance.

Yet among the many things made clearer by the pandemic has been that there are many heroes among us, living like us, within reach of us. With schools and businesses re-opened, or even just due to the passage of time, the sudden hardship brought about by COVID-19 may seem to be receding from the forefront of many minds, but I think it’s important to look back and remember how much we owe to those around us. Especially during the early days, but continuing until now, the heroic acts of members of our own community and support networks have been essential to keeping us safe and to mitigating the effects of this pandemic: from friends passing along only accurate information, to riders delivering our goods, to the nurses and doctors who administer vaccines and examine our symptoms. While governments and national leaders certainly had a role to play, any rules or policies passed down from them had to be implemented on the ground, and this very often took heroic effort.

Just as heroes do not need to be larger-than-life figures, so too must we remember that heroic actions need not be singular instances of dramatic action, of immediate life-or-death. Certainly there are those moments as well, and those are the type of heroics inscribed in the Memorial to Heroic Self-Sacrifice: people like Alice Ayers, who saved three children from a burning house at the cost of her life. Not every hero is a martyr, however, and an otherwise heroic action is not made less so because the hero escapes from harm.

What makes an action heroic? These are actions not done purely out of obligation or a desire for personal gain (fame, money, power) – in fact, they are actions that involve the risk of significant harm to the actor. And yet – while conscious of this risk – the hero performs the act anyway, because it is for the betterment of another, because it is the right thing to do, the more loving thing to do, because it makes the world a better place. In my opinion, it doesn’t matter if the risk faced is immediate or spread out across time, whether it is so substantial as to be a danger to the life of the actor or a less mortal affair, a sacrifice of one’s health, or ambitions, or peace of mind. There is a cost to risking one’s life for another… and there is a cost to dedicating one’s life to another. There are levels of heroism, all along the same spectrum of personal risk for the benefit of others, or the common good.

There are dangers to heroism, and I’ve tackled them before: if we hold them in too high an esteem, we risk making heroes gods instead of people, we become blind to their faults and enable tyrannical actions. If we hang the label on living people and expect them to “save” us without our support, we make heroism a compulsory burden and a means of shifting away our own responsibilities.

Yet for all the potential dangers of heroism, there remains a need to acknowledge heroic acts and those who perform them. This is especially true in the deeds of those around us, many of whom are struggling with their own unique problems even as they help us with our own. That there are levels to heroism does not mean that little, everyday acts of heroism are undeserving of praise and recognition. In fact, since these acts are those that are within our means, it would be fair to say that everyday heroes are more suitable for emulation in our own lives than other kinds of heroes.

Someday, perhaps, you may be called upon to lay down your life for another, or for a cause you believe in, or for the safety of your people.

But today, a day after National Heroes Day, perhaps you can look around yourself for the heroes in your own life. Look at those who make your life better and safer, who do so at a cost to themselves, who do so beyond the call of duty. Take the time to recognize them, to thank them, to see if there is any way that you in turn can help them. Ask yourself what you can do, to make the world a better place, to be a hero in your own way.