Beefy, Compassion and the Road to Meaning

Whilst probably not 500-1 - the odds offered against England winning the 1981 Headlingley test before Botham's heroics - the chances of Ian "Beefy" Botham becoming a knight of the realm must at one time have been rated as pretty slim Even his own autobiography [2000 edition] describes itself as "an intriguing cocktail of sex and drug allegations,personal upheavals [and] confrontations with his peers" - as well as "remarkable achievements both on and off the field"

Today few would deny the merits of Botham's knighthood. Raising over ten million pounds for leukemia-related children's charities far outweighs what are now discounted as minor blemishes. Yet the misdemenours didn't seem so out of character at the time. If you had to compare Botham to a Shakespearian hero, it would surely be that epitome of out-of-control hedonism, Sir John Falstaff. As Michael Henderson wrote back in 2000 :-

Watching [Botham] in his pomp must have been like eavesdropping on Falstaff in an Eastcheap tavern, as he feasted on sack and capons - though even the Lord of Misrule might have struggled to keep up with Botham on a heavy night.

I'd wager that Sir John didnt get his knighthood for good deeds. Whilst it's not too much of a stretch to imagine Falstaff flaying opposition bowlers to all parts of the ground like the village blacksmith, I doubt if would have got past the first inn on the John O'Groats-Lands End road. So what started his twentieth-century counterpart on his unlikely trajectory ? One word - compassion. Botham was passing through a hospital ward for some treatment to a broken toe, when he saw some pretty-normal looking children sitting around playing board games. "You know those children won't be here in a few months" commented his medic. They had terminal leukemia, and couldn't expect to see their next Christmas. Botham was so moved he began to donate money for parties for the children, then began doing sponsored walks until eventually he was organising and taking part in mammoth fund-raising events.

Compassion - a feeling of sorrow and pity for someone in trouble - changed the life of Botham himself and the many others helped by him. When Botham visited that Taunton hospital ward, the success rate for treatment leukemia in children was 20%. Now it is 80%. Of course, Botham cannot be held solely responsible for this incredible improvement - but what a legacy!

Buddhists have long argued that compassion isn't just good for other people, it's good for you too.

"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion." proclaims the Dalai Lama .

After his knighthood, Sir Ian may agree.

So does the mature Sir Ian now resemble the Dalai Lama (above) more than Falstaff? Probably not. I suspect that the Falstaffian side of his character is still very much to the fore. Botham is no saint. But, guided by compassion, he has used his celebrity status to make a huge positive difference to the world. However problematic celebrity is in the modern world, it can be put to good use. Celebrity plus compassion equals meaning. So, what odds will anyone give me about the latest celebrity, Katie from the Apprentice , eventually using her celebrity status to help those in need? Anyone give me 500-1?

Technorati tags: ian botham, compassion, dalai lama, the Apprentice, cricket, sport and psychology, happiness, meaning

What would George Eliot have said to Captain Jack?

What would George Eliot have said to Captain Jack ?

Back in October, when my kids were starting to look forward to Xmas, I began to look forward to Torchwood.
"Dr Who for grown-ups" said the trailers. What could be better? Well, call me a kid that's never satisfied with his presents if you like, but watchable as it is, I was hoping for more than gore and sub-Bond excitement. I'm not alone. As one blogger put it "Torchwood is a bit like a teenager who wants to be cool and grown-up; it wears lots of black and hangs around moodily, but it hasn't yet quite grasped that swearing and trying to shock aren't really the key to the thing."

For me, a real "Dr Who for grown-ups" would share the intelligence of the best science fiction. Like Kurt Vonnegut and Stanislaw Lem, it would play around with ideas to stimulate and illuminate our own thinking.
Last week's episode of Torchwood seemed promising - "what if you could read other people's mind". "Would that really be a good thing?" Would telepathy be useful? Or embarrassing? Or overwhelming? Well, it turned out to be all of these, and Tosh, Captain Jack and the gang decided that telepathy was something of a Greek gift. It wasn't a bad episode, but personally I find more illumination on the subject in the most unlikely of places - a classic Victorian novel.

In Middlemarch, George Eliot wrote:

If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life,
it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat,
and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of that silence.
As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.

It's the last word of the last sentence that really gets to me. The first sentence - the roar which lies on the other side of silence - suggests the same answer as Torchwood. We can't afford to be too empathic, or too compassionate, or too caring. We just have to protect ourself with indifference. But for Eliot, it doesnt end there. Indifference doesn't just make you bad - it makes you stupid. Not knowing how other people feel is an intellectual as well as a moral failure.

If you were offered the gift of telepathy, should you accept it? Probably not. Should you try to be more compassionate and empathic? I wouldn't have guessed it from watching Torchwood, but reading Middlemarch suggests an emphatic "yes". And reading books like Middlemarch - unlike watching Torchwood - is one of the best ways to become more empathic, by entering into the world of the characters and gaining a better understanding of human nature.

Which leaves me with my disappointment over the BBC's pre-Xmas present. Well, I now realise that, like many an aged relative, Auntie doesn't always remember what she's already given you. In fact I got "Dr Who for grown-ups" a long, long time ago. So get out your towels and - Don't Panic!