Altruism is the principle or practice of concern for the welfare of others. It is a traditional virtue in many cultures, and a core aspect of various religious traditions, though the concept of 'others' toward whom concern should be directed can vary among cultures and religions. Altruism is the opposite of selfishness.
Altruism can be distinguished from feelings of duty and loyalty. Altruism is a motivation to provide something of value to a party who must be anyone but oneself, while duty focuses on a moral obligation towards a specific individual (e.g., a god, a king), or collective (e.g., a government). Pure altruism consists of sacrificing something for someone other than the self (e.g. sacrificing time, energy or possessions) with no expectation of any compensation or benefits, either direct, or indirect (e.g., receiving recognition for the act of giving).
Much debate exists as to whether true altruism is possible. Some] argue that no act of sharing, helping or sacrificing can be described as truly altruistic, as the actor may receive an intrinsic reward in the form of personal gratification. The validity of this argument depends on whether intrinsic rewards qualify as 'benefits'.
The term altruism may also refer to an ethical doctrine that claims that individuals are morally obliged to benefit others. Used in this sense, it usually contrasted to egoism, which is defined as acting to the benefit of one self.
And on that note, the cover story of the New York Times gives a fairly accurate portrait of what it means to give and to receive. No city other than San Francisco frankly demonstrates the definition of income inequity better than New York City, even the Mayor is a Billionaire who does little to demonstrate empathy or compassion the two most traits needed during a time of crisis. A man reliant on facts, figures and order a good Billionaire make, but a Politician no. We like them a little more than "just the facts ma'am" when the proverbial shit hits the fan. The same traits that I find appalling in the Governor of New Jersey, Chris Christie, during normal business hours are actually the same ones that during this storm, literally and figuratively, are useful. Calling people stupid before the storm - bad; running around in a fleece coat and putting aside differences to work with as opposed to against the President - good. Who knew?
And now we have the volunteer brigade. Well meaning with intent to help - good, but taking IPhone pictures for your Facebook - bad. Its just that the guilt and shame of the Riches need to be dusted and brought out and we the Poors due our duty and be grateful and thankful. Thanks, I think? But hey I am still waiting for my gift bag from President Obama. When will that get here?
I am pleased to see the kids of Occupy back and doing what they do best - helping others. They may not be the best messengers or have a well organized plan but they do know how to care and its on full demonstration of a new kind right now. Another lesson they are teaching by doing.
I wonder if any of the same people so busy passing out soap and clothing would ever sit down and have a coffee or beer with the same people? No and would those same recipients do the same? No. As I have said we have a much bigger divide than race its economic and class. We have an inter war that has been as devastating. Divide and conquer should be the new motto of our times. We do little to even acknowledge our neighbors immediately adjacent but those whose lives are inherently different we don't at all. That is the real price of income inequity.
HELPING HANDS ALSO EXPOSE A NEW YORK DIVIDE
by Sarah Maslin Nir
Published November 17, 2012
After more than a week of self-sufficiency, George Ossy, an immigrant from Africa living amid the chaos of the Rockaways, with his 10-year-old daughter in tow, walked into the relief center down the street, one of several set up by the volunteers who had descended on the storm-battered peninsula in Queens
Moments later, a white woman leaned down to address his daughter. “Have you eaten in two days?” she asked.
Mr. Ossy surged with outrage. Power was out, yes, and nights were cold
for sure, but Mr. Ossy, a taxi driver proud of the long days he works to
earn money for his family, was insulted by the suggestion that his
daughter was not well cared for.
“I said: ‘What do you think? You think we live in the bush?’ ” He felt
condescended to by the volunteers — many of whom hail from upscale
neighborhoods in Manhattan and Brooklyn. He turned and left.
Hurricane Sandy,
the cliché of the moment goes, created a city of haves and have-nots;
those New Yorkers with power and heat and the many other assurances of
modern life, and those without. But the storm simply made plain the
dividing lines in a city long fractured by class, race, ethnicity,
geography and culture. And in reminding of these divides it stirred a
measure of hope they could be bridged.
The counterculture activists of the Occupy Wall Street
movement found themselves tearing up sodden drywall in Rockaway houses
owned by police officers, whom this time last year they despised only
slightly less than the 1 percent. Upper East Side professionals headed
into clapboard neighborhoods of Staten Island and got their hands dirty
cleaning out basements. And white gentrifiers who may not have thought
much about the brick public housing complexes scattered around trendy
neighborhoods like Red Hook, Brooklyn, suddenly found themselves inside
them, trudging up pitch black stairwells to inquire about the well-being
of the mostly poor black and Hispanic residents.
But even within the honeyed glow of unity that has come to follow
tragedies here, these disparities can be difficult to ignore,
occasionally provoking moments of friction and misunderstanding.
More privileged New Yorkers, some of whom are more familiar with poverty
from their travels to the third world than from exploration within
their hometown, unearth deep guilt among the piles of donated clothes as
they come face to face with misery that existed so close to home even
before the storm.
Those coming to them for relief worry that their helpers are taking some
voyeuristic interest in their plight, treating it as an exotic weekend
outing, “like we’re in a zoo,” said one resident of a Rockaway project —
echoing a complaint often heard in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans
following Hurricane Katrina — as volunteers snapped iPhone photos of her as she waited in line for donated food and clothing.
And while the good being done is undeniable, the gap-bridging atmosphere
has a melancholy undertone for some on all sides who are sure the
moment is fleeting.
From her Gramercy Park apartment, where she had been without power for
several days, Kelly Warren, 48, and a friend lugged 500 pairs of new
socks and underwear bought at Walmart to the Rockaways. Her guilt at
being largely spared the storm’s wrath was compounded by being up-close
to the destruction of an area already struggling with poverty, she said.
It made her only more keenly aware of privilege.
“I’m driving in my big Lexus coming down here,” Ms. Warren said,
betraying her self-consciousness as she stood in a parking lot amid
people riffling through donated clothing. I said, ‘Thank God the car is
dirty.’ ”
She said she was so affected by the experience that she was considering
forgoing Thanksgiving dinner to spend the day volunteering with her
family.
A similar scene was unfolding in the shadow of the Red Hook Houses, a
housing project with nearly 3,000 apartments. Stung not only by
pervasive income inequality,
but also by the steady march of gentrification in this once-derelict
area, some here found it hard to accept aid from the same apple-cheeked
young people pricing out longtime residents of the neighborhood.
But realizing that this demographic group, long held up as the villain
in the tale of life in the projects, could care, was just as hard for
some residents.
“They’ve been talking about white people as bad for so long, they feel
shaky, embarrassed,” Al Pagan, 46, who lives in the Red Hook Houses,
said as he watched the volunteers help his neighbors. “They’re starting
to realize white people are human beings just like us.”
The bridging of divides could be noticed everywhere in the city where
there was need. Some moments revealed a true meeting of worlds.
Outside a Red Hook church, a young black man crowed about setting up a
potential date with a relief worker. “She lives on the Upper East Side,”
he said. “She’s got blond hair.”
But other moments offered reminders of how complicated those moments
could be. At a nearby art gallery, volunteers preparing to deliver meals
to public housing residents were told not to let their guard down — on
the lists of apartments they received, some were marked as unsafe for
women to visit alone.
Moments of understanding have emerged not only along lines of race, but
also along the more elusive boundaries of class and culture. In the
Rockaways, growing numbers of visitors, drawn to the sand and surf, have
rankled locals in recent years.
As several young men from a Manhattan consulting firm, one wearing a
Princeton sweatshirt, tore up destroyed flooring in a house on Beach
129th Street in Belle Harbor, any tension seemed to have been dumped
with the first wheelbarrow of drywall. The owner of the house said that
the men’s boss told him “he wanted them to see hardship, to get out and
work with their hands, because they mostly went to Ivy League schools.”
Jimmy Brady, 35, a New York firefighter who lived next door, was prying
up carpet alongside the visitors. “If there is any way you want to get
accepted to a family or a community, it is to help,” he said. “I’ve
heard it from the hardest locals, that these guys are unbelievable. They
get out with their little fedoras and they just start helping.”
As volunteers with the makeshift relief efforts have applied their own
rules on how to dole out relief — telling people where to wait and
enforcing limits on how many blankets or food items storm victims
receive — some have entered the more fraught area of applying their own
values to those they are helping.
As she gave out diapers and cases of infant formula to storm victims,
Bethany Yarrow, 41, a folk singer from Williamsburg who has been
volunteering with other parents from the private school her children
attend, said she was shocked by the many poor mothers in the Arverne
section of the Rockaways who did not breast feed. The group, she said,
was working on bringing in a lactation consultant.
“So that it’s not just ‘Here are some diapers and then go back to your misery,’ ” she said.
That sort of response has rankled Nicole Rivera, 47, who lives in a
project in Arverne, where the ocean sand still swirls up the street with
every passing vehicle. “It’s sad, sometimes it’s a little degrading,”
she said as she stood in line in a parking lot waiting for free
toiletries.
Ms. Rivera said that she was thankful for the help, but that its face —
mostly white, middle- and upper-class people — made her bitter.
“The only time you recognize us is when there’s some disaster,” she
said. “Since this happened, it’s: ‘Let’s help the black people. Let’s
run to their rescue.’ ”
“Why wait for tragedy?” she added. “People suffer every day with this.”
A woman standing in front of her in line interjected. “To be honest, I
pray to God I never see these people again,” the woman said. “The only
reason these people would be out here again for us is if something like
this happens again, or worse.”
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