Malignant society

The metro in Brussels employs Bombardier trains with space-saving doors that open by first pushing out of the carriage, then sliding apart and folding against the walls on either side of the doorway. It's here where the boy's arm evidently got caught in the mechanism, and was subsequently sandwiched behind the door in a very awkward position.

Since this happened almost instantaneously as the door opened, you'd expect people passing through the doorway to notice and lend a hand. Apparently this is not the done thing. At least five people left the carriage and fifteen boarded, with another ten-or-so remaining on the platform watching both the drama unfold and their watches so they could groan and fidget at regular intervals.

I suppose it's a much higher priority to stand around sighing and tutting about your delayed metro, or rushing past the child in pain so you can get one of the few available seats.

After 20–30 seconds of screaming, I was unaware of what the noise was all about, but it was starting to get bothersome. I barged through the gawker's block to see what was going on. Almost simultaneously, two other gentlemen came to help, and the three of us bowed the door and the cover over the housing for door's mechanism to help slide the arm out of its vice.

I later found out that my fellow conspirators were not Belgians, but in fact a Dutchman and a German, both heading on their way to Schuman. So what were the rest of the people doing? Did they think this was some perverse form of street theatre?

Once released, the boy was whisked away quickly by his now borderline-hysterical mother with not so much as a thank you. Not even an ounce of acknowledgement. Nothing. I suppose she believed the door simply bent itself by its on volition, letting the boy go.

After the adrenaline rush started died down, I sent an SMS to my colleague Tom, who I presumed would be catching the same metro. As I was typing away, I realised that my immediate societal queues during the event were literally telling me to stay away from the problem, and to not get involved. I started to feel bad about helping, and then became furious with myself for even feeling that way in the first place.

How can you not offer assistance in a situation like this? Where's the harm? What's the risk? Have I lived in Belgium too long?

So today, I'm pissed off at society in general. As a whole, we're all demented and pathetic, ignoring our malignant society. I feel like my faith in society got squished in that metro door today. Has common sense and common decency died so quietly that nobody noticed?

In a bizarre contrast with my spoken vocabulary, I rarely swear whilst writing. Read that again; digest it, cognise it, comprehend it, acknowledge it, and then allow me to say, at the risk of sounding like John (legitimately) moaning about the Dutch, ‘What the fuck is wrong with society‽’