Walking down a busy London high street yesterday I noticed a small crowd forming beside a pedestrian crossing that didn't appear to move when the lights changed and the traffic gave way. A sad scene was revealed, a lady was lying motionless on the pavement, surrounded by an army of onlookers. Strangers behaving strangely, I thought.
What is it about an accident that causes us to stop and stare? What is that compulsion we feel, to find out what's happened, whilst contributing nothing to what might happen next?
In America, the term 'rubbernecking' has been coined to describe motorists who slow down as they pass the scene of a recent road traffic accident to observe its aftermath.
It is part of human nature to become curious at the sight of something extreme or unusual, which explains some aspects of rubbernecking. Tourists viewing the sites of a large city for the first time often spend most of their time rubbernecking, because they are completely overwhelmed by the new and unusual sights around them. But need we gawk with morbid curiosity at the scene of an accident, helping no one and possibly causing a nuisance by our untimely and ultimately narcissistic presence? Need we indulge our own meanderings about mortality whilst depriving potentially another of their dignity? Are there more respectful ways in which we might witness another's experience?
Yesterday, on my way out to an engagement I had been looking forward to all day, I was prompted to think of that woman, whom I have never met and am unlikely to encounter again, and to wonder what did happen to her. I hope an ambulance arrived on the scene quickly, to relieve the one individual who had actively come to her assistance and whom I saw administering first aid.
Somebody's daughter, maybe someone's sister, wife, partner or mother. Each of my thoughts interesting and valid, prompting consideration of our essential vulnerability and fragility, but better engaged with having crossed the road and continued minding my own business.
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