I spent my time in limbo reading, writing, and walking with my luggage cart in a gigantic circle, circumnavigating the transit terminal in order to get a little exercise. As I trudged around the terminal, I noticed the multitude of sleeping passengers strewn across the airport furniture almost as though they had been struck down by a mysterious ailment, frozen on the grey upholstery, unable to proceed any further. Only a person desperate with exhaustion allows themselves to become so vulnerable as to sleep in such an open, unprotected place.
Being vulnerable--it's something humans fear almost more than anything. Stranded travelers, the homeless, refugees, infants, sufferers of illness, the blind, those in poverty, and the bedridden are among those on the list of the most vulnerable of the world and few of us clamor to join this forlorn group. Pushing my cart, I scanned the sea of travelers spread prostrate along the concourses and marveled at how powerful fatigue can be, a force so strong it makes us abandon our defenses and expose our vulnerability to ten thousand strangers, far away from home. Sometimes we will do almost anything to avoid being vulnerable: in my case I abandoned my pride and my firm principle to always avoid being overcharged for any service and booked a few hours in the exorbitantly priced transit terminal hotel, so I could gather just enough rest to avoid sprawling across the airport furniture myself.
In extreme cases like airports stuffed with stranded travelers, it is easy to spot the vulnerable and to accept it as an unavoidable consequence of an extraordinary circumstance. But, in reality, the fear of being vulnerable has a grip on our daily lives as well: we often let our vulnerabilities define who we are and how we live. What is insurance, if not a hedge against vulnerability? And every time I watch commercials for cosmetic dentistry or plastic surgery as they point out each of our potential personal flaws and blemishes and how these vulnerabilities can tarnish our lives, I realize that these appeals are no less powerful than the exhaustion suffered by the stranded traveler. Even higher education is often sold as a tool that will keep a person employed, protected from the vulnerabilities presented in a competitive modern economy. We have lost focus on much of what of gives life joy and satisfaction and instead obsess on achieving invulnerability, a task which, if not impossible, edges as close to the border of impossibility as any human endeavor can.
Even some religion is framed primarily as a fight against being vulnerable. Many Christian churches I have visited talk endlessly about becoming saved, because without a person's action of acceptance of Jesus needed to become saved, one is vulnerable to an eternal damnation. According to this appeal to the fear of vulnerability, without proper action, one's soul will be condemned to an eternal wandering through a cosmic airport terminal without a boarding pass, no destination in sight. Invulnerability through salvation is the goal of this religion; no wonder vulnerability is so difficult for us to cope with.
Perhaps because of this aversion to vulnerability, it seems, our society has less and less sympathy for the vulnerable. If you have become vulnerable, perhaps you have failed in some way. One could ask: "Why did you book an airline ticket through Istanbul in winter where they clearly can't handle snow, when you could have traveled through Moscow where any winter weather can be defeated and all flights can be boarded? It's all your fault you became stranded."
It is that same kind of attitude that permeates America today. People blame the uninsured and the vulnerable for not having health insurance. "If only you worked hard like us, you could purchase good insurance and we wouldn't need Obamacare. How dare you be vulnerable?" Our incoming President mocks the disabled, the vulnerable, plans to cut programs to help them, even spent his campaign viciously attacking any vulnerability his fellow candidates might have had with his harsh rhetoric and name calling. What other societies in past history, I wonder, have had leaders, who have had similar distaste for the vulnerable? And I also wonder what childhood vulnerabilities some cruel person exploited to cause the next President to act this way as a raging defense against his own weaknesses. Sadly, for some people, their vulnerabilities do define them rather than those attributes they possess that demonstrate courage and strength.
I grew tired of walking with my cart around the Istanbul Airport and sat in a chair next to a sleeping passenger. I watched him as he clutched a small bag that I guessed might contain essential documents, money, and perhaps every important worldly possession he might have owned. At that moment he shifted his weight and the bag fell from his hands on the floor. Vulnerability squared.
"Sir, Sir!" I shouted loudly. After a moment, he woke up startled and a bit dazed. "Sir," I said, pointing at his bag, "you have dropped your bag on the floor." It took him a second to comprehend what had happened, but then he realized, picked up his bag, and thanked me. The only way we can survive our vulnerability is if we watch out for each other, no matter how different we all are, or so it seems to me.
You don't have to be sleeping on an ugly grey chair in the Istanbul Airport to be vulnerable. We all are. In the coming era, more us will be in some acute vulnerable state, like permanent lodgers in a random, unnamed airport. Will we as a culture be defined by our weakness and our vulnerabilities as we fail to do what is right and good? Or will we rise above our frailty and take those things which have been our traditional strengths--a sense of fair play, adherence to the rule of law, willingness to help our neighbor--and accentuate those in an effort to overcome our culture's vulnerabilities in a spirit of mutual aid? The omens do not currently seem auspicious.
What is to be done? One person usually cannot change a culture. But one person can change their own life and someone else's, who can change another's, and perhaps like a stream growing into a river, we can divert the flow and re-direct the channel. This can happen when we realize that when we demonstrate a preference for the vulnerable, and act accordingly, we are doing the work that fulfills our destiny as humans and helps us transcend our own vulnerabilities.
Finally, as more flights departed, the number of sleeping passengers diminished, life returning to normal. Eventually it was time for my own departure. I do not know if, moving forward, I will be able to transcend my own vulnerabilities and summon the courage to stand up for what is right and to do the essential work of helping each other overcome our vulnerabilities. None of us know if we'll be able. But let us try.
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