CYNTHIA OZICK
51
lnained a bystander, like all those millions of their countrymen in the na–
tions of Europe. It goes without saying that the bystanders, especially in
the occupied lands, had troubles enough of their own, and hardly needed
to go out of their way to acquire new burdens and frights. I do not -
cannot - believe that human beings are, without explicit teaching,
naturally or intrinsically altruistic. I do not believe, either, that they are
naturally vicious, though they can be trained to be. The truth (as with
most truths) seems to be somewhere in the middle : most people are born
bystanders. The ordinary human article does not want to be disturbed by
extremes of any kind - not by risks, or adventures, or unusual responsi–
bility.
And those who undertook the risks, those whose bravery steeped
them in perilous contingencies, those whose moral strength urged them
into heart-stopping responsibility - what (despite their demurrals) are
they really, if not the heroes of our battered world? What other name
can they possibly merit? In the Europe of the most savage decade of the
twentieth century, not to be a bystander was the choice of an infinitesi–
mal few. These few are more substantial than the multitudes from whom
they distinguished themselves; and it is from these undeniably heroic and
principled few that we can learn the full resonance of civilization.
