A fox was swept away by the force of the river whilst trying to cross; he was carried over a waterfall, and washed up on the rocks near a deep ravine. He lay, bruised, sick and unable to move. Soon a swarm of blood-sucking flies settled on him. A hedgehog, who was passing by, saw the motionless fox and, filled with compassion for the fox’s suffering, asked if he should disperse the cloud of flies that were tormenting the fox. ‘No, please don’t disturb them,’ said the fox. ‘I don’t understand,’ said the hedgehog. ‘Don’t you want to be rid of them?’ ‘No,’ said the fox. ‘These flies are full of blood and don’t bite much, but if you shoo them away, others, hungry ones, will surely come in their place, and they will drink all of the blood I have left.’
This insightful fable by Aesop, writing in Greece in the 6th Century B.C.E., predates the Christian Greek Scriptures (the New Testament) and the story of the Good Samaritan by hundreds of years, and is roughly contemporary with the works of the Buddha, writing in China. The story remains relevant and fresh today, especially for its novel viewpoint, and surprise ending. While it was originally part of a longer story (which I won’t explore further here) that has Aesop himself, an ersatz lawyer, defending a crooked politician, the story is also about different perceptions of rescue, and rescuing, and provides us eye-opening insight into both the viewpoint of one who is suffering, and of one who wishes to give aid, and who can’t imagine, in this scene, that more harm can come from ‘help’. The story allows us to see that all aid is not necessarily aid, no matter the intent. It is also a reminder that suffering, to a degree, can be preferable to something more hideous and unbearable, and that a potential rescuer needs to consider whether help is really required, and to what extent, so that matters aren’t made worse, and injuries exacerbated. It also demands of us an increased sensitivity to all others, and a new level of meaning for the term ‘judgment’.
