There are many deeply unpleasant things in the world. War, famine, violence and rape, torture, extreme poverty. And what of injustices? Is it right that a hard working subsistence farmer in India can barely feed his family while a lawyer in London flies his family to Barbados to avoid the January chills?
Well I suppose it depends what “right” means. Sure, we would all wish that those that work hard and are good, honest people are fairly rewarded for their efforts. But the world is not a giant game where the lucky few have the right to decide who wins and who loses. The world just isn’t like that, thank God. People get where they are through a combination of good fortune (for example being born to a middle-class family in a wealthy nation) and hard work.
The protestors outside St Paul’s believe they are standing up for the marginalised masses, against the dominant might of the evil capitalists.
Every morning I, along with thousands of other evil capitalists trudge past the hordes of tents on my way to work a 12 hour day.
Happily for me, the ranks of protestors remain invisible, save for their flapping tents and discarded tins. I walk by, undisturbed, while the protestors who have blighted our City lie fast asleep, safe in the knowledge that don’t need to trouble themselves with inconveniences like getting out of bed before 9am. Others like me will continue to work long hours to pay our taxes to support the indolent few so they can swap ant-capitalist rhetoric and lambast the City workers that pay to support them.
I have never felt in the slightest bit threatened by the dozing protestors. But I feel saddened.
These protestors were dealt the pocket aces of life. They were born into chance, in a rich country with excellent education and healthcare, if compared to almost anywhere else on the planet. However they choose to throw away the second part of success – hard work.
That to me, is the real definition of injustice.