The Perfect Cruelty of the Hunger Games

I'm always fascinated by The Hunger Games every time I remember the series exists. Specifically, its world-building, even more specifically, the

games

themselves. When I think about them for more than a minute, I am struck by how brilliantly cruel and manipulative the entire institution of the Games is. How all facets of the Games work to suppress the empathy and humanity of an entire society. As the series begins with the 74th annual

games

, it's easy to wonder how the world got to this extreme point, so perhaps it's not surprising that since ABOSAS we know that the games weren't always like this.

As the tenth Games begin, there is concern on Capitol Hill. The audience is falling. No one in the districts, not even in the Capitol, wants to really watch. And for good reason. These are early games, devoid of the pomp, style and pageantry that will later define them. These games are advertised for little more than exactly what they are: a public execution. And people don't watch because the games are too cruel. And that's why the Capitol is looking for a solution. Not to make them less cruel, of course. But to make that

cruelty

less real. A more rewarding viewing experience.

And when we see the 74th Hunger Games, we will have a very different picture. Games have become elaborate. It's grotesque. And it is a phenomenon. The origin of the games is pretty standard authoritarian brutality. After a collective rebellion from the District, the Capitol installed the games as a display of its power. A warning to the Districts, so that they know their place. And what is more powerful than not simply ordering the annual execution of eleven children, but turning it into a national entertainment event? The concept alone is disturbing, and intentionally so. When she wrote the series, Suzanne Collins wanted to comment on our desensitization to violence as she changed the television channel: first a reality show and then the Iraq War.

In the full version of it, the Games are these ideas fused together. But the Hunger Games, fully realized, are not just conceptually gruesome, they are a massive psychological manipulation of Panem society that rewires the hearts and minds of its citizens. Every aspect of these Games sows discord among its people at every possible level. And it makes people's own humanity and that of others worth very little. She does this by adding, broadly speaking, two elements: competition and spectacle. And she does so in a way unique to each part of Panem's heavily stratified society. HOW DO DISTRICT GAMES WORK?

First, there is the harvest itself. The method for choosing tributes intentionally points to the class. The premise of the Games, first of all, is based on the idea that, at the end of the day, even a peaceful person will attack another in order to survive. Peeta even says it. But the Games also depend on people acting out of desperation outside the arena. Despair, like, let's say... the conditions of poverty. By allowing people to enter their names more times in exchange for food, the harvest system incentivizes poorer people to be chosen. And why do this? This is not just added

cruelty

for the sake of it.

You're multiplying the odds that whoever gets chosen will be someone who's already struggling and hungry, already in lifelong survival mode. Someone who is less likely to want to challenge or have the tools to challenge the system that oppresses them. Someone for whom kindness is too costly. Point at them, put a gun in their hand and tell them: "it's you or them." We can see how this plays out by comparing Peeta and Katniss' reactions to being chosen. : "I keep wishing I could think of a way to show them that I don't own them." "If I'm going to die, I want to continue being me." KATNISS: "I just can't afford to think like that." If Katniss dies, her family will be defenseless.

But if Katniss gets to the Capitol and somehow wins, they won't be. It is a forced choice. Compare this to Peeta. Since Peeta was in a slightly more privileged position (albeit within the poorer district), he had a little more room to consider his own desires, feelings, and identity. As the son of a baker, he didn't have to worry about food like Katniss did, for example. Which is not to say that identity and self-reflection are a privilege (they are things we all deserve), but that is precisely why those things are attacked. If people focus on survival, they simply won't have the time or energy to consider anything else.

The Capitol then presents the Games themselves as an offer of permanent escape from poverty. If you win, you and your family will be set for life. But the promise of riches is a carrot stuck on a stick: an empty promise to an individual, rather than a commitment to systemic change. Because treating districts better as a whole is out of the question; but elevate a district citizen above the rest? That's simpler and a way to send a message: "Look. This is what happens when you're good." And that's how it works. Because of course it is. People play the Capitol game with the idea that a slight chance is better than none.

And the illusion of winning, however small, provides a kind of plausible deniability when the horror of it all becomes all too real. In interviews, if the conversation turns dark or serious, César can shake it off by saying, “Well, maybe you'll win! CAESAR: "I'll tell you what, Peeta." "You go out there... and you win this." "*When* you get home... she'll have to go out with you." There's also the volunteer system, which is one of the many ways Snow revised the Games to add "drama." People are chosen at random (although I've seen this disputed by some fan theories), but technically they may not actually have to fight.

Because, hypothetically, someone else could volunteer for them. As the books tell us, this, unsurprisingly, doesn't happen much. So when you're chosen, the heavy silence is a reminder: someone could save you, but why would they do it at the cost of their own life? A reminder that you are probably doomed and everyone knows it. And you are alone. And so this points to the sense of community *within* the districts. Almost as if to make it clear that, at the end of the day, they are the only ones who will have their back. What is also key is competition.

The competitive nature of the games separates people from one district to another, puts everyone in immediate survival mode, and creates a hierarchy within the oppressed classes. In this sense, the games are similar to gladiator fights, but with some really significant differences. That is to say, the fact that the tributes are specifically and exclusively CHILDREN'S is intentional. First of all, it is a way of showing the districts how defenseless they are: that not only the inhabitants of the district can be turned into executioners of others, but also of the youngest and most vulnerable. With the legacy of the Games, each district will have a child in the hands of a different district.

So when the tributes end up killing each other, they have now become a weapon of the Capitol, having carried out violence in its name. For families in “losing” districts, the victors are the face now associated with great personal loss. At the risk of stating the obvious, this creates a general culture of fear. No child will grow up exempt from knowing that he might have to participate in this, and no parent will be exempt from knowing that he might lose his child in the Games, one way or another. Not everyone will be chosen, but everyone will grow up preparing for the possibility.

Prepare, mentally, on some level, for the reality of having to kill another child or her televised death. And this would be enough. But of course, this isn't even the worst of it. It's not just violence. The competitive element existed from the beginning; Still, it wasn't enough for people to watch when the Games began to lose viewership. It's the spectacle that elevated him. The goal of the Games is not only to intimidate the districts, but also to put on a good show doing so. I've seen some fan theories that the crops aren't random, but rather geared toward what would produce the most compelling drama.

And the spectacle of the Games is their greatest asset: the spectacle dehumanizes everyone involved and hinders everyone's ability to relate to each other. That is to say: children – appropriately named tributes – are not only sacrificed, but almost literally turned into products; repackaged, polished and marketed for quick consumption. Upon arrival, they are groomed into an approximation of the unnatural

perfect

ion of the Capitol's citizens: they are given makeovers, stripped of their body hair, and, in the books, children are prevented from growing facial hair. . They are made to be objectifiable, dressed in imitation of their oppressors in what are probably the last days of their lives.

But the show is not only dehumanizing, it does so very carefully. Because it doesn't turn these people into enemies, monsters or martyrs. It makes them celebrities. And in some ways, that's worse. GAUL: "Who will watch the Games if they care what happens to the tributes?" SNOW: "Everyone." Transforming the tributes into “celebrities” – whether temporarily or permanently as victors – is simply more humiliation. And in cases like that of Finnick, whose body is sold as a commodity, an open exploitation. As if to say: “Look what we can make you do and we can make you pretend to enjoy it.

This is the ultimate demonstration of power – than tributes.” They have to entertain themselves with the bad jokes, the frivolous attitude and play along, days before their suffering is broadcast nationally, but they do play along, of course, because they have to take advantage of their somewhat ridiculous sympathy under the circumstances, because it gives them the best chance to survive. And that is why the spectacle, the pageantry, is the greatest asset of the Games. In the midst of an unthinkable situation, these children do not even obtain the dignity of facing it as themselves, they are forced. to adopt a personality, to repress what they really feel, to not share their fear or recognize their competitors as humans.

You can't be nice if you're scared or angry. If you honor your own humanity, you condemn yourself. SNOW: "The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. And all this dehumanization is compounded by the insidious concept of "victors." The victors are those who may have survived, but certainly not They win. Any relief from having won is immediately alleviated by the fact that it came at the expense of the death of their peers, including someone from their home district. games with post-traumatic stress disorder and any other physical injury and disability, and now they have become, almost certainly, complicit in the acts of the Capitol.

But there is more: because they are not only separated from themselves, but from all the. others. PLUTARCO: "They think she is one of them, we have to prove that she is one of us." At the Games, the winner returned to his District, as if nothing had changed. But one of Snow's clever updates was. the reward, and even the worship, of the victors, to, as he himself put it, "tempt a better class of tributes to possibly." "The cult of the victor works on a couple of levels. First, it leads, as anticipated, to some people seeing the games as a risky but feasible escape from poverty.

Snow asks Seneca: why have a victor? And he explains his reasoning: that having a victor to celebrate generates hope: “the only thing stronger than fear.” Hope takes the Games from a glorious execution to a path towards a more comfortable life. It is unfair, but it exists. a slight chance of injustice working in a person's favor. Or at least, this is the idea that is sold. The illusion of victory is enough for people to believe that it is worth fighting for, but it is still enough. unlikely to keep people in fear. And, furthermore, now that the surviving victims return home as “winners,” they are separated from their community Not only emotionally, but also physically. people.

Separated into a “village of victors,” they are given access to riches their peers will never have, and they almost flaunt it to their faces. As if to say: this is what happens when you play our game and win. Therefore, this is an incredibly easy way to generate resentment between the victors and their former peers and communities, who can now see them as belonging to and representing their oppressor class. And although they are sold the idea that after winning they will be left alone, the winners are never allowed to leave the shadow of the Games. In another twist, those who survive the Games become mentors for new tributes.

The victors, already burdened physically and psychologically, are forced to lead new tributes, knowing full well that they probably will not survive. Forcing them to feel at least somewhatresponsible for their deaths. Meeting these very young children, getting to know them up close, maybe getting to care for them (giving them the illusion that they can really help) and watching them die. Retraumatize them over and over again. HAYMITCH: "He's a race, do you know what that is?" Racing is another byproduct of both Snow's volunteer system and the glorification of victory. They are also another weaponization of class, the counterweight to how the system takes advantage of the poor.

This targets the most privileged of the districts, who welcome the games not as cruel punishment, but as an opportunity for glory. So competing with poor, hungry, and scared children are those from the wealthiest districts (1, 2, and 4), who are raised with the idea that winning games is a badge of pride. These children are trained in elite academies and then volunteer when they are at the peak of their physical condition. Given both their advantage and enthusiasm, the races often become capitol favorites and lend credibility to the culture of the Games. CATO: "I'm ready. I'm cruel. I'm ready to go." BRILLO: "You are our family" But of course, the Races are just another tragedy.

The entire concept of Races simply pits districts against each other and creates “elites” out of what are ultimately still victimized children. Pro kids are marketed to believe that volunteering is an honor, and the other districts (understandably) resent their wealthier counterparts for being the Capitol's favorites and most likely to win. And it's true: races have comparatively higher chances of survival. But by being raised to be

perfect

killers, by being made an enthusiastic part of this gruesome spectacle, they are still dehumanized. The lives of these children, in their own eyes and that of their families, are valued less.

We get a heartbreaking reminder of this during Cato's death, when he realizes: CATO: "I'm dead anyway. I always was, right?" Because no matter how much better they are, they are still a district. And the Capitol won't let them forget it. HOW DO GAMES WORK FOR PEOPLE IN THE CAPITOL? So those are the Districts. For the other half of society, the Games serve a very different, but equally insidious, function. The games discourage the citizens of the Capitol from having any real empathy for the districts. Stop any risk of national unity. While at the same time encouraging the Capitol to have a very particular imitation of empathy.

So, while not on the same level as the children of the district, the institution of the Games also dehumanizes the citizens of the Capitol. As ABOSAS makes clear, games without an audience – an enthusiastic audience – mean very little. Therefore, it is advantageous to not only involve citizens, but also keep them involved. In the long term, generationally. Citizens of the Capitol are encouraged to become, in many ways, addicted to hyperviolent entertainment. Which completely suits the type of world they live in. In a hedonistic and overly indulgent culture, where all your needs are thought out to the point of overflowing. "What is this?" "It's for when you're full" "It makes you sick.

So you can keep eating" Of course, the entertainment would have to be equally extreme to reach them. And so, as the people of the Capitol become emotionally complicit in the Games and desensitized to their violence, their ability to empathize with others outside their class is suppressed. And thus it disconnects them not only from others, but also from their own humanity. And they become more than half of a psychologically exploitative machine. This is encouraged in a really clever and manipulative way. The Games require two seemingly opposite things: dehumanizing the District's tributes and numbing its citizens to violence, and at the same time, the Games also rely heavily on the emotional investment of spectators.

But only in a particular way that threads the needle between emotional investment and CARE. SNOW: "Everyone. If you thought the tribute you care about had a chance of winning." Because the citizens of the Capitol must invest enough to watch, place bets and react to the emotional beats of this television show. But they cannot care enough about the well-being of these children to see the Games themselves as an injustice. So the Games thrive by encouraging a mild imitation of empathy. And they do it, intelligently, masking the violence with this artifice of care: that is the most insidious thing.

They take the descendants of those “ungrateful rebels” and pamper them, idolize them, dress them in their best clothes and feed them their best foods. This twisted generosity is a way for the citizens of the Capitol to tell themselves, and often truly believe, that they are doing the tributes a favor. Effie is a perfect example of this. She represents the complicity of those on Capitol Hill who seriously think their participation is a kindness. EFFIE: "That's one of the wonderful things about *this opportunity*" "that even if you're here, and even if it's just for a little while" "*you* can* enjoy all of this!" She is sincere.

And that's the worst part. I find Caesar Flickerman's role in this especially intriguing. He is sickeningly cheerful, charming in an uncanny valley sort of way. CAESAR: "IT'S SO EXCITING!!! AH HA HA HA HA HA!" He is the ambassador who connects these two worlds, and his charisma is a big part of why this works: he legitimizes violence. And this is where it gets really interesting. Because Caesar *does* a lot of work to humanize the tributes: he asks them personal questions, laughs at their comments, and in many ways makes them seem more charismatic than they really are. and even allows them to enjoy a certain sadness that the public can take advantage of.

BUT, if any of them break the spell, express some resistance to the games themselves, BEETEE: "If the Quell of the Twenty-Five was written by men, it certainly may not be written." JOHANNA: "But now? You want to kill me again. Well, you know what? Fuck it!" Her wall goes up immediately. CÉSAR: "Interesting concept :)" “Very good. One woman's opinion." It's so sinister. He jokes with the tributes on TV as if this is all normal, as if they are friends. And then, in the arena, he talks about the horrible things that happen as if he were talking about the next There is a particular kind of evil in being forced to act friendly and joke around with people who are about to kill you.

This is all based on massive cognitive dissonance that works by emphasizing the barrier between the districts and Capitol. two parts of the same society are as different as possible. While in Snow's early life we ​​see a fashion that, while still conveying class, was much simpler, as the Capitol becomes increasingly richer with The merchandise, excess of the Capitol becomes more ostentatious. So, as the gap of class and power widens, so do its visual markers, the citizens of the Capitol develop their distinctive, and often extreme, marks of wealth and status, and they become increasingly more visually distinct from the districts. inserted.

While conducting interviews and playing the reality TV angle of the Games, the Tributes dress in stylish, sparkly, lined clothing for viewers to project and choose their favorites. They look relatively familiar. But once in the arena, those visual signifiers disappear. And the tributes are “other” again. HAYMITCH: "Do you really want to know how to stay alive? Get people to like you." The false empathy goes even further with the idea of ​​sponsorships, another of Snow's popular improvements. As an incentive for them to invest, wealthy viewers are encouraged to “sponsor” tributes: they can send them water, medicine or weapons.

But, of course, only for those who follow the rules, who, in this nightmare scenario, have earned help by making themselves “nice.” By sponsoring tributes, the citizens of the Capitol can have their cake and eat it too: they can indulge in the sensational violence of the games and also give themselves a pat on the back for having “tried to help.” Tax relief is not even about them anymore. It's about how it makes the citizens of the Capitol feel. Telling themselves that they are good people, this hit of feel-good emotion that they can consume and forget about at the end of the victory ride.

Doubling down on the Games' design to make them addictive, Snow also built a way for people to open up. bet on them: another hook to penetrate your audience. In another insult to injury, the tribute performances are publicly classified, so that those in the Capitol can bet on them. A frivolous gesture towards their families at home, humiliating and intimidating these children in the days before the games. There is no part of these people that cannot be consumed. CESAR: "I don't know who we'll miss more: you or your brain!" Their faces, their bodies, their lives, their deaths. And his emotions.

HAYMITCH: "I can sell the star-crossed lovers of District 12" KATNISS: "We are NOT star-crossed lovers!" HAYMITCH: "It's a TV show!" We see all of this in the way the Games are altered in the first book. Peeta and Katniss manage to save each other by playing the game perfectly, giving the audience a love story to root for. Love, ideally, is something honest, something that connects us. But like everything the gaming machine spits out, this is love for public consumption. PEETA: "It was the bond of love, forged in the crucible of the Games, that was our greatest reward." The Capitol craves high drama, and Peeta and Katniss are able to exploit this.

Their love, however truly romantic, becomes something that can be dramatized for its own survival. Because it can't be enough that they simply wanted to save each other, because no, that would be an act of rebellion. The marketable story has to be that Katniss was too deluded by love, that she couldn't bear to live without it. If she just cared about someone and didn't want to lose them, who in the Games wouldn't qualify? It couldn't just be ordinary human compassion. It had to be something more: a display of emotion so extreme that it justified challenging the games and, at the same time, satiating the Capitol's citizens' need for intense entertainment.

Because, as Haymitch reminds us, it's still a TV show. But the over-the-top story that saved Katniss and Peeta's lives was still driven by something authentic. For that human compassion that Panem finds so dangerous. And that is what predicts his downfall. HOW IT BREAKS DOWN: REMEMBER WHO THE REAL ENEMY IS The institution of the Games reiterates the classic idea of ​​“divide and conquer” SNOW: "They are holding hands. I want them dead." The idea that if the people you subjugate see each other as enemies, they focus less on... They make sure there is no risk of unity or solidarity between any of their people.

Holding hands with the victors in Catching Fire may have been a desperate move to save themselves, but we still understand WHY this show of unity is a threat. Because that would undo the basic premise of the games and Panem itself. That the tributes remain united means recognizing each other not as enemies, but as victims. And we cannot allow that. And so, to avoid something like this, The Hunger Games aims for collective empathy on a cultural scale, especially, deliberately, among the youngest in society. So how does this fall apart? Well, the first cracks in the wall are fair.

People who treat each other, despite the circumstances, with true care and dignity. It begins with Prim. Katniss volunteers to protect her sister, a story that brings viewers to tears. Compassion: first, for a family member. And that is the first link in a chain of humanizing acts. Because there's also Peeta. Peeta, who risked (and received) a beating from her mother for burning bread to help Katniss live. And although she doesn't exactly share her feelings, this means something to her. And then, Katniss meets Rue. And Rue reminds her of Prim. And for a moment suspended in time, as if nothing was happening around her, they care for each other and trust each other.

Katniss' love for Prim overrode her own survival. And now, Katniss risks her life in the open field for the simple, rebellious act of honoring the life of a girl she cared about. And she extends outwards. On Rue's behalf, Thresh forgives her. Then, Peeta and Katniss' “mad love” moves viewers enough for Seneca to break the principles of the Games. A pivotal moment that signaled, for the first time, that something could override Snow's careful rules: love. Even as a sensational half-truth. Peeta then gives away part of her earnings to the other tributes' families. And with the social power they have as Victors, they continue to break protocol, at great risk, to honor all the other children who died, allowing them to live.

And all these humanizing acts become a tidal wave. The engine of something unstoppable. With all the abject horror of the Games, I sometimes find myselfI ask: how did this not happen before? How did this system not collapse? And, well, to a certain extent, the system was fragile. His power was already unstable in the tenth Games. And even "rebooted", it completely collapses in 75 years; the games began and ended during Snow's lifetime. And the way they do it is certainly not easy, but the driving force is simple. The Games and the social system around them are designed to make solidarity and connection as costly as possible.

The reason this works is because empathy is a muscle. A certain amount of power and privilege literally reduces your capacity for compassion. According to some psychological studies, including that of Professor Paul Piff of UC Irvine, at least in laboratory settings, "rich people are less likely than poor people to identify with the suffering of others." But if empathy is a muscle that can be weakened; reasons that it can also be reinforced. And that's what we see here. Despite concentrated efforts to suppress it, the compassion of this society is never completely erased. After a life under the control of the Capitol, and even after experiencing everything she did in the arena, Lucy Gray still says, "I believe there is a natural goodness built into human beings." I don't think it simply refers to a moral scale of good to evil.

I believe that the goodness he speaks of is the recognition of ourselves in others. You could be me. I could be you. That which motivates, as Chidi says, "our innate desire to treat each other with dignity." GAUL CONCLUSION: "What are the Hunger Games for?" Although the Games were a demonstration of control and power over the Districts, They were also making manipulative statements about human nature. We see this most explicitly in ABOSAS, through Gaul, Snow and Lucy Gray. “That's naked humanity. How quickly all your good manners, education and background disappear. , stripped in the blink of an eye, leaving a child with a club who beats another child to death to stay alive. “That is humanity in its natural state.” The idea, put like this, surprised him, but he tried. laugh.

SNOW: “Are we really as bad as all that?” GAUL: “I would say yes, absolutely. But it's a matter of personal opinion.” “What do you think?” “I don't think I would have beaten anyone to death if you hadn't put me in that arena!” GAUL: “You can blame the circumstances, the environment, but you made the decisions you made, no one else.” Galia claims that games simply reveal the truth about human nature, the truth that no one – including children – can. It's really innocent. While this is partially true, although somewhat dishonest. Especially coming from someone who, yk, builds Death Battle Royale arenas for children, Gaul just created his own problem with the tram. to desperate people in an arena with weapons and the promise of safety if they win, of course many will fight back.

So this is less a revealing truth about humanity as a whole, and more about the character of its architect. People in survival mode can and will do terrible things. Of course, Gaul's statement is technically partially correct. But he's leaving out some pretty important information. The people in the arena are not in natural circumstances: it is as designed as possible. And in fact, it seems that even in extreme circumstances, people are still remarkably reluctant to hurt each other. U.S. Army Brigadier General and Army Historian S.L.A. Marshall conducted interviews with thousands of soldiers immediately after they had been in hand-to-hand combat in World War II.

And what he found was that only 15 to 20% actually fired at the enemy. This only began to change in later wars with the implementation of battlefield conditioning: from using language to desensitize soldiers from killing to training them to shoot reflexively. Not so different from what we see with the Games. As sociologist Randall Collins put it: “Human beings are programmed for solidarity and interactional entrainment; and this is what makes violence so difficult.” And I have to think of another line Collins wrote for Lucy Gray: “People aren't that bad. Not really." "It's what the world does to them. Like all of us, in the sand.

We did things there that we would never have considered if they had left us alone." Both Gray's and Gaul's claims have some truth: We make choices, but those choices hardly exist in a vacuum. But you can't take an extremely curated event and use it to make broad statements about human nature. The complexity of the Panem system and the Games speaks to how artificial it is. It requires so much calculation, so much strength to stay in place, so even though this machine is built. SO efficiently at training empathy in people, you can't get rid of it. And there is something else that I think is also good to recognize.

While the kindness that undoes these oppressive systems is natural and innate, I think it is also. Very important to note that kindness also requires intention simply because it is part of it, for us, it does not mean that it is always the easiest or most instinctive option. If, again, empathy is a muscle, then every day we have moments where we do. we can choose to exercise it. If human beings can be antagonistic and cooperative in different situations, that's it. It matters what the social forces around us nurture and value. Of course, there are individual differences and predispositions: some people may be more innately compassionate, and others may just be innately cruel, and there's nothing you can do about it.

But in general, most people fall somewhere in between. Therefore, Lucy Gray's words seem particularly significant to me because she herself is no stranger to cruelty. She sees him as a minority within the worst treated district. And she now she has been part of it in the Games. She has been a victim of the worst things people can do to each other. And yet. At the end of all this, she is still the one who offers the hopeful phrase. What prompted me to write this article was wanting to highlight how calculated the cruelty of the Games was.

But as I worked on this, what continues to surprise me most is how innately hopeful this story is. And it works because it's not naively hopeful: it doesn't prove that people are innately good all the time; that the “true goodness” that Lucy Gray mentions always prevails. THG works as a story *because* it is so unflinching in the way it portrays both elaborate and ordinary cruelty. And he still manages to say: “this is not the essence of who people are.” I admire the series for that. It's a delicate thing to thread, right? Too brutal and she's just cynical and grim.

Too optimistic and you may seem idealistic or naive. But just as THG doesn't shy away from the terrible things people can do to each other, the opposite is also very clear. Something good and kind persists in the people in this story, even when it doesn't always prevail or "save the day." Regardless, the kind act and its potential to inspire change is always there. And if people in these extraordinary circumstances can choose it, then those of us with much more ordinary lives certainly can too.