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Michael Coren

Michael Coren

Grief or glamour?

Posted on Saturday, January 22, 2011
Bio/Email | Michael Coren Archives | Printer-Friendly Version

The funeral of police Sgt. Ryan Russell was held in Toronto this week, attended by 12,500 police officers and other first responders, and thousands of ordinary members of the public.

People who had never met the 35-year-old officer cried in front of journalists and explained why they made journeys of sometimes more than two hours just to see the poor man’s casket.

They told stories, often strangely tenuous, of how they felt connected to the tragedy because of some relative of a relative who was once a cop, or something equally contrived. The media covered the day in enormous, sometimes surreal detail, partly because radio stations and newspapers that don’t are routinely accused of police-bashing.

Just the day before the funeral of Sgt. Russell, a 66-year-old woman died from hypothermia on the streets of this same, allegedly caring city. She was suffering from dementia and had walked out of her home in the middle of the night in freezing conditions.

Once her body experienced the agonizing weather, the confused, broken lady began to scream for help and claw at a nearby car door when she fell over. Some people admitted to hearing her, perhaps even seeing her, but they did not bother to help.

So forgive my skepticism when I argue that Toronto, just like any other city or town in this country, is not compassionate at all, but likes nothing more than soaking itself in the comforting waters of official mourning. Morbid and often misplaced grief has become the ersatz religion of modern times. Not just in Canada, but throughout North America and Europe. The western world has caught neurosis.

We witnessed this when the self-indulgent Princess Diana died, see it when a child is abducted and murdered. The teddy bears, enormous cards and kids dragged by their parents to crime scenes are as plentiful as confetti at a wedding, and just as trivial. Hardly any such display though when, for example, four working men died on Christmas Eve in 2009 falling from a scaffold. Or when homeless people are beaten to death for fun.

I intend no disrespect to a fallen police officer, and I appreciate that he symbolizes not just the police, but the line between our safety and criminal chaos. I also understand why so many other cops would want to attend. But for the life of me, I cannot and will not believe that most of the spectators were motivated by genuine concern.

They wanted to be part of a happening, with a fair chance they would appear somewhere on a 24-hour TV news station and they could tell their friends and neighbours how caring and involved they are. This is vicarious thrill-seeking, feeling soft and cosy inside because it’s not happening to you, but you can pretend to feel the pain.

Good Lord, whatever happened to the dignity of private grief, surrounded by family, authentic friends, religious community and those who love you rather than love the moment?

Oh, by the way, January is Alzheimer Awareness Month. But being “aware” won’t help that poor lady who froze to death, and probably won’t get you a moment of fame on television.

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Nice line, eh
Michael Coren's graphic

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Posted on 01/22/11 at 08:24 AM

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