It is commonplace these days to hear in the media about violence within our families, on our streets and in our village communities. Our evening TV viewing is often bombarded by campaigns and slogans condemning abusive behaviour of any type. Radio talkback shows have become overcrowded by finger-pointers, do-gooders and those who really do care having their say on the latest violent attack. And many of us have witnessed first-hand relatives, friends and those affected by violence coming out in numbers to support their fellow human beings. One can’t say that we are not made aware that violence is a problem. Despite this, the list of serious assaults reported has grown. What could be going so wrong?
The vicious and damaging nature of an assault inflicted by one human being onto a fellow human being is just something that is hard to comprehend. The most fundamental lessons we’re taught growing up are people-centred and based around the same values that are heard time after time; love, respect, kindness, and compassion.
A violent outburst is often an emotional reaction to the environment (for example: family pressures, work, lifestyle changes and expectations) or an outlet to an internalised struggle (cycles of family violence, esteem issues or even depression). It seems that in today’s society, we are behaving more and more as individuals, sidestepping our social and moral responsibilities and the value that family connectedness brings to life. In some cases it is almost as though our fa’a-Samoa is giving refuge to our behaviour running wild.
When we are less able to cope successfully with modern day life, then we have a problem. A major problem. We cannot isolate or disengage ourselves from families and reality. We need to talk to someone who is willing to listen to us. Perhaps someone who understands us and who would “cry a river” for us (Fiu, Ta’afuli Andrew 2006). Because we need to be heard. We need to be connected to reality and to each other. Right now we seem to be running around like headless chooks not knowing who to turn to for help.
It is not enough to put the blame on, for example, outside influences, Western cultures, peers, too much television exposure, movies and other technological media of today. Nor can we point the finger at journalists for reporting such cowardly acts, nor publishers for printing them on the front pages.
Instead we should really be looking at ourselves and our own environment/si’osi’omaga for answers, and look at ways we can influence and create new ways of being and living together. Do we need to put pressure on parents who may have fallen short of being caring parents? Maybe we should. Do we need to challenge the churches for concentrating on spirituality and not the whole person? Maybe! Ask the educationists why they are not targeting the real needs of our next generation? Maybe! Is our fa’a-Samoa standing in the way of us speaking out? Should we continue to hide behind sayings such as, “E lē a’oa’ia e Laupua Tamafaiga” (it is neither my place nor my right to advise you – Hon Misa Telefoni 2005). Whilst it may seem easier to adapt to cultural changes globally, the impact on the individual is a different matter altogether. We need to develop alternatives to doing nothing at all.
One such option may be an integrated approach within a collaborative grouping of churches and village councils. The framework will be well resourced by those who will have the influence and those with a common goal, shared interests and with the right skills. We need to be committed to ensuring all interested parties are on board, talking the same language openly and honestly and walking the shared pathway.
Above all else, we should aim at changing our mindset as individuals. And once we take that step, why not aim to lift a finger to reach out to someone else in need? When we change our thinking, attitude, approach and behaviour not only will our own lifestyle change – our whole communities’ lifestyle will change.
Soifua