Twenty years ago, it was common for books and articles about the current state of the nation to begin with references to Kitty Genovese, a young New York woman who was stabbed to death in an alley early one morning.  What made the story so powerful was that thirty-eight of Kittyís neighbors witnessed the assault without taking any action, despite her continuing cries for help.  When some neighbors came to their windows to see what was happening, the mugger retreated.  When no one did anything, however, he came back and resumed his attack.  Clearly, each of Kittyís neighbors had the power to save her life.  None did.  Like the World War II Germans who did nothing about the concentration camps, Kittyís neighbors would later say they ìjust didnít want to get involved.î

      In part, the Kitty Genovese story made headlines because it fit the general newspaper formula that bad news sells more papers than good news.  More importantly, the story dramatized a tendency many felt was growing in the nation, maybe in the world.  Sociologists and others spoke of alienation in the big city, the death of community, and the lack of compassion one for another.

      For some, the story justified their long-standing grudge against city life-epitomized by New York.  For most who heard the story, however, it touched a raw nerve.  We were unable to turn our backs on it, anymore than the moth can turn away from the flame.  Kitty Genoveseís obscene death in a New York alley forced us all to ask ourselves whether we would have behaved any better than Kittyís neighbors.  Retelling the story twenty years later has the same effect.  No amount of evidence or protesting to the contrary can completely erase the nagging doubt we feel.

      While Kitty Genoveseís story is a depressing one, it represents only one side of modern American life.  Hereís a very different kind of story, reflecting a different approach to modern life.

A Modern Hero

      Army Captain Robert Saum was driving through Oakland, California, on his way to work early one morning in 1980 when a pickup truck in front of him flipped over several times an exploded.  Pulling his car to the side of the road, Saum leaped out and ran toward the burning truck.  For the next half-hour, he administered first aid to the victims while the fire department put out the blaze and highway patrol officers directed traffic around the accident. 

      Perhaps the most telling aspect of this episode was Saumís personal reactions to it.  In the beginning, he reports, he felt a great deal of apprehension.  He hadnít administered first aid for years, and he kept looking for someone else to arrive and take charge.  ìEach time I saw someone in uniform, I remember thinking, ëThis guy will take charge.í  But I was amazed.  It didnít happen.  It wasnít like TV.î

      Soon, Saum had taken on personal responsibility for the victims.  He began giving orders to others on the scene.  When a fireman started to hose down one of the victims, Saum realized that the cold water could cause hypothermia.  ìI made the decision that I was in charge then and I didnít tolerate that.  I yelled at him to cut it out.î

      Finally an ambulance arrived.  This was what Saum had been looking forward to since the accident first occurred.  By now, however, his perspective as to who was responsible had shifted.  When two ambulance attendants began to lift one of the victims, Saum stepped in and made them stop.

      ìI had a girl with a fractured skull, multiple contusions and abrasions, and unknown orthopedic complications.  I didnít know what bones had been broken.  I just stopped them.  The said, ëWeíre in charge; weíll take over now.í  Thatís when the highway patrolman stepped in and said, ëNo, heís in charge.íî

      Later, Saum would recall his feelings near the end of the episode.  ìI remember thinking, ëTheyíre mine until the ambulance takes them away, my responsibility.í  It was the same intensity of feeling I have toward my wife and children when theyíre hurt.  It was like the whole family of man became my family.î

      These two stories describe opposite poles of modern social life.  On the one hand, Kitty Genoveseís neighbors experienced no sense of responsibility for anything they believed lay outside their personal lives.  If Genovese was being mugged, that was her problem.  The second story began somewhat similarly, with Saum waiting for those ìresponsibleî to arrive and take charge.  Saum, however, went beyond those initial feelings and took charge of the situation himself-even to the point of being responsible for the mistakes of firefighters and ambulance attendants.

Two Roads Ahead

      These stories also describe a fork in the road for all humanity.  The choice we make will determine the quality of life you and I will experience throughout the remainder of our lives, and it will determine the quality of life we leave to our children and their children as well.

      While it is not polite to put the choice in such blunt terms, I know that you already see the signposts all around you today.  As Americans, we enjoy a standard of living unimagined by our ancestors.  Ours is the technological age.  We are surrounded by video games, color television, great films, and all our other ìfavorite things.î  Nor is our national well-being only materialistic.  This is also the land of the free and the home of the brave.  The measure of liberty and opportunity we enjoy was seldom even dreamed of throughout most of human history.

      Yet the glory of being an American is not without blemish.  The fabric of material prosperity is tattered by inflation, unemployment, violence, pollution, and corruption.  Freedom and dignity are not perfectly realized for any of us, nor are they evenly distributed among all our people.  And beyond our shores, 13 to 18 million die of hunger each year; a billion go to bed hungry every night, while you and I go to bed with the ominous ticking of a thermonuclear alarm clock.  Life today, even in America, is definitely a mixed bag.  Elsewhere it is less than that.

      Charles Dickens could have been writing of our age when he began A Tale of Two Cities with this memorable description:

     It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of 
     wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was 
     the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of 
     Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

      The fork in the road is real.  The choice is awesome.  While it may be comforting to think that others will choose the route ahead, the real choice lies in us, you and me.  You and I stand at that fork in the road, and we will make the choice one way or another.  Truly, you and I and other individuals like us are the ones who will make the choice between personal, national, and global greatness on the one hand, or disappointment and despair on the other.

      While everything Iíve just said applies to all countries, this book focuses on Americans at the fork in the road.  In part, I do this to make our examination more manageable.  Also, our prominence among nations lends special weight to our choice and provides us with a special opportunity, as weíll see shortly.

      The choice for greatness, by the way, is not nearly as burdensome as you may be imagining about now.  This book is not a somber call for self-sacrifice or for self-righteous misery.  If my comments about awesome choices stir feelings of burden or guilt in you, thatís not my purpose.  That such feelings may arise, however, is very much a part of what this book is about ? as weíll see especially in chapter 9 ? but before weíre done, youíll be able to laugh about having such feelings.  The choice for greatness, though it may carry risks and even some suffering, is fundamentally a joyous undertaking.  Consider Trevor Ferrell, for example. 

      Trevor was an average eleven-year-old when he happened to see a television special on Philadelphiaís homeless people.  As he watched the shots of men and women huddled in alleys, under bridges, and the like, he simply knew he had to do something.  But what could an eleven-year-old do?  The only thing he could think of was to convince his parents to drive him from their well-to-do suburb into the heart of Philadelphiaís downtown.  As they were leaving the house, Trevor grabbed a pillow and blanket.

      Imagine what it must have been like to be Trevorís parents on that trip.  There they were driving around downtown Philadelphia, looking for poor people!  Finally, Trevor spotted a derelict camped on top of a subway grate.  Trevor was to remember him for the fact that he was wearing socks but no shoes.  Getting out of the car, Trevor gave him the pillow and blanket.  Amazed, the man looked into Trevorís eyes, smiled, and said ìGod bless you.î

      Now the die was cast.  Trevor had created a mission for himself.  Two nights later, he and his dad were on the streets again, this time bringing one of Trevorís motherís old coats.  Then he was back with more old clothes and with hot food.  When his own family had run out of old clothes, Trevor began canvassing the community.

      Word of Trevorís mission in Philadelphia was covered on local television stations, and the flow of gifts became a flood.  Nearby Fort Dix sent him one hundred surplus overcoats to distribute.  Gifts of cash made it possible for him to improve the hot food he was distributing.  Someone donated a VW van to expand the familyís capability.  When Trevor put out a plea for shelter for the street people, a church opened a thirty-room house to them.

      Trevor has become a special person on the streets of Philadelphia.  William Plummer and Andrea Fine describe a typical interaction:

     Within seconds, Chico has spotted the van.  He is walking toward it, 
     crying, ìWhere is my little buddy?  Whereís my little Trevor?î  Soon 
     the derelict is hugging and kissing the boy, and telling him all about his 
     latest ills.  Within minutes, Trevor has calmed him down and now is 
     tending to his material as well as emotional needs, ladling him a bowl of 
     stew, fitting him with a new blanket and used clothes.

      A somewhat different problem concerned Marilyn Keat and some friends in State College, Pennsylvania: Americaís estimated six to seven million ìlatchkey childrenî who return to empty homes after school each day because all the adults in their households are working.  Keat, working with colleagues in the local branch of the American Association of University Women, decided to do something about the problem.

     PhoneFriend serves as an adult, after-school friend for some 4,500 elementary-school children in the State College area.   Keat explains:

     We call ourselves a help line or a warm line rather than a hot line. . . . We do provide help if children call with crisis-type calls but we donít want the child to feel that you have to have a serious problem.  Children can call if they feel lonely or scared or if they think theyíve heard a noise.  One child called because he thought there was a snake in the living room.  We want to convey the message, call us for any reason.  If you want to talk to an adult, weíre here.

      Trevor Ferrell and Marilyn Keat both represent a choice for greatness at the fork in the road we face.  And theyíre not alone.  There is something in the air.  Studs Terkel calls it a ìfeeling of oats.î

     At this moment, in scores of neighborhoods across the country, in big cities and small towns, along dirt roads, behind mountain ìhollers,î there are people speaking out.  They are turning toward one another, asserting themselves as they have never done before.  Their grievances may be local-an expressway ripping up a neighborhood, a strip mine ripping up the land, an inequitable tax-but they reflect a larger discontent.  Those who were silent are no longer silent, no longer accept the word from on high.  There is a flowing of life juices that has not been covered on the Six OíClock News. 
 
 

      The ìfeeling of oatsî and ìflowing of life juicesî Terkel speaks of represent something of profound importance for our society and for the world.  The stories of Trevor Ferrell and Marilyn Keat, like the earlier story of Robert Saum, should not be dismissed as merely ìnice.î  I suggest that our future as a nation will depend on the kind of personal responsibility represented in their stories.  Without it, American society is in for some rough sledding.

      I know this may sound a little overly dramatic.  Living as an American today, it is difficult to imagine that our national greatness will not last.  Sure, we are facing some troubled economic times right now, but those are certainly temporary.  Weíve faced wars and depressions in the past, but weíve always survived as a nation, growing stronger in the process. 

      Short of a thermonuclear holocaust, who can imagine the United States as a failed nation, a footnote in history?  If you have trouble imagining such a future, take a minute to learn from those before us who shared the certainty that national greatness lasts forever.

Footnote Empires in History

      Five thousand years ago, the first major civilizations formed in the Mesopotamian plain bordered by the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.  Here rural villages were first transformed into cities and written language first appeared.  First the Sumerians and the Babylonians reigned supreme on the planet.  Samuel Noah Kramer describes the first human civilization this way:

      Here, some 5,000 years ago, a people known as the Sumerians developed the worldís earliest true civilization from the roots extending far into the dimness of prehistory.  It was Mesopotamia that saw the rise manís first urban centers with their rich, complex and varied life, where political loyalty was no longer to the tribe or clan but to community as a whole; where lofty ziggurats, or temple-towers, rose skyward, filling the citizenís heart with awe, wonder and pride; where art and technological ingenuity, industrial specialization and commercial enterprise found room to grow and expand.

     It was in these Sumerian cities of the late Fourth and early Third Millennia B.C. that ancient man accomplished some of his most impressive achievements in art and architecture, in social organization, in religious thought and practice and-with the invention of writing-in education an communication. 

      Had you been an ancient Sumerian, you would have lived each day as a member of the worldís supreme people.  You would have enjoyed the most advanced culture and technology on the planet.  Even as a common citizen, you would have found a personal reverberation in the lofty proclamation of your king:
 

     I am Assurbanipal, King of the Universe King of Assyria, for whom 
     Assur, King of the Gods, and Ishtar, Lady of Battle, have decreed a 
     destiny of heroism. . . . From my childhood, the great gods who dwell 
     in Heaven and on Earth have granted me their favor.  Like real fathers 
     they raised me, and instructed me in their exalted ways.  They taught me 
     to wage battle and combat, to give the signal for the skirmish an d to 
     draw up the line of battle. . . . They made my arms powerful against my 
     foes, who from my youth to my manhood were at enmity with me.

      Who could doubt that it would last?  Hadnít the gods of heaven and earth chosen the Sumerians to bring civilization to all peoples?  Yet all that remains of Sumerian greatness today are archeological traces unearthed from under tons of rock and sand.  A thousand years of civilization disappeared from the earth.  Had you lived in those final days, you might have been the poet who cried in anguish against the day

     That ìlaw and orderî cease to exist . . .

     That cities be destroyed, that houses be destroyed . . .

     That [Sumerís] rivers flow with bitter water . . .

     That the mother care not for her children . . .

     That on the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates there grow sickly plants . . . 
     That no one tread the highways, that no one seek out the roads, 

     That its well-founded cities and hamlets be counted as ruins . . .

      So much for Sumerian greatness.  It would be comforting to regard the Sumerian fate as a peculiar twist of history.  Unfortunately, they are the norm, not the exception, for great world empires.

      The successor to the ancient Mesopotamian supremacy was the great Egyptian Empire.  For thousands of years, Egypt was the seat of civilization on the planet.  Social structure, economy, and religion developed to levels unknown in Mesopotamia or elsewhere.  The arts flourished, especially in the areas of sculpture and lapidary work.  Writing evolved into a fine art, insuring a lasting record of greatness. Giant pyramids offered additional enduring evidence of Egyptís supremacy.

      Unlike the Mesopotamian civilizations, Egypt has endured as a nation.  But the ancient Egyptianís descendants have a very different place in the world.  Today, Egypt is a Third World country, a land of crushing poverty.  Egyptian cities are greatly overpopulated and chaotic.  Disease is rampant.  The nationís economy is depressed and uncertain.  As one readily available indicator of the quality of life, the per capita share of modern Egyptís gross national product (GNP) is $580 per year, about one-fifth the worldís average.  As another indicator, one child in ten dies during its first year.
 
 

      Africa has been the seat of many other great empires of the past.   The Mali Empire of West Africa flourished as a powerful trading empire during the thirteenth to sixteenth centuries.  Their descendants today are desperately impoverished.  The 1982 infant mortality rate in Mali was 154 (of every 1000 children born, 154 die during their first year).  The Nok culture of Nigeria was a powerful force in Western Africa from 500 B.C. to 200 AD  Today, however, Nigerians have an infant mortality rate 135, and the per capita GNP is $1,010.  The Kingdom of Axum controlled Red Sea trade in 250 B.C., but their descendants in modern Ethiopia are struggling for bare survival.  The infant mortality rate is 147 and the per capita GNP a mere $190.

      The Current Status of these past African empires is summarized in the accompanying table.
 
 

Ancient African Empires

Estimated 1982 Status

Empire	Modern Nation	Infant Mortality Rate	Per Capita GNP
Egyptian	Egypt	103	$580
Mali	Mali	154	$190
Nok	Nigeria	135	$1,010
Axum	Ethiopia	147	$190

      There are, of course, many reasons for the decline of Africaís great empires of the past.  Intertribal fighting took its toll, as did European colonialism.  Yet the African record of footnoted empires is not unique to that region.

      Two empires dominated ancient Asia: China and India.  While most Americans probably have some idea that China was one an advanced and powerful civilization, few recognize the glory of the Indus and Vedic civilizations of India, marked by great strides in religion, culture, commerce, and urban development.  Today, India is regarded, rather, as the epitome of poverty.  Modern Indiaís infant mortality rate is 123, and the per capita GNP is $240.  Nor is China the model of an advanced world power today.  While the infant mortality rate has only recently been reduced to 45, the per capita GNP is only $290.  At the very least, both India and China are mere shadows of their past glory.

      In the New World, the Mayan, Incan, and Aztec civilizations are often compared to their Egyptian counterpart.  Great cities at Tenochtitlán, Machu Picchu, Teotihuacán, and elsewhere were seats of great cultural developments.  Had you lived in any of these early American civilizations, you would have been convinced that your national supremacy would last forever.  The descendants of the ancient Mayans, Incans, and Aztecs, however, live in poverty today, as the following table shows.
 
 

Ancient American Empires

Estimated 1982 Status

Empire	Modern Nation	Infant Mortality Rate	Per Capita GNP
Mayan	Honduras	88	$560
	Guatemala	70.2	$1,110
Incan	Peru	88	$930
Aztec	Mexico	56	$2,130

 

      With the exception of Egypt and China, most Americans probably have little recognition of the great empires Iíve been describing. (That by itself says a lot about the uncertain persistence of national greatness on this planet.)  But letís look briefly at the empires most familiar to students of Western history:  Greek, Roman, British, and American.  Where do they stand today?

      The world dominance of Greece and Rome are kept alive in history books alone.   No one today regards either nation as a predominant world leader.  While they have not fallen into the poverty suffered by the more ancient empires such as Egypt, India, and Nigeria, both nations face severe economic and political problems.  By the same token, the sun has surely set on the British Empire, and the economic problems that trouble Americans today are worse in England.  Yet early in this century, few seriously doubted that Britannia would always rule the waves.

      The data on Western empires tell an interesting story.  The older the empire, the higher the infant mortality rate and the lower the per capita GNP.  On their face, these data seem to describe a stead decline of past empires.
 
 

Western Empires

Estimated 1982 Status

Empire	Modern Nation	Infant Mortality Rate	Capita GNP
Greek	Greece	18.7	$4,520
Roman	Italy	14.3	$6,480
British	United Kingdom	11.8	$7,920
American	United States	11.8	$11,360

      Explanations for the decline of once-great empires are numerous.  German historian and philosopher Oswald Spengler contended that all civilizations pass through a natural life cycle of growth and decline.  A similar view has been put forward and documented in the massive historical analyses of British historian and philosopher Arnold Toynbee.  Marxist scholars, by contrast, see capitalist colonialism as causing the fall of many ancient empires, especially in Africa.

      Demographic shifts are offered as the explanation for the demise of some empires.  In a typical example, technological advances reduce a nationís death rate, and population then mushrooms to a size unsupportable by the nationís economy.  All this is further complicated by high living.

      The point of this historical sidetrack is to raise a question that should interest all Americans: What does the future hold for the United States?  Will we, too, become a mere footnote in history: the Late Great United States of America?  A casual review of world history strongly suggests the future may be none too bright.

      The issue of American national greatness, however, needs to be placed in a larger context.  The time when one nation could enjoy success at the expense of others is rapidly drawing to a close.  In the years and decades to come, the quality of life we Americans enjoy will depend heavily on what happens is the rest of the world.  If we seek to perpetuate a world system in which some nations prosper at the expense of others, then we will suffer the fate of great empires past.  The alternative is to take responsibility for global survival and global prosperity.

      As Americans at this point in history, we have an opportunity to transform the nature of international relations.  We are in a position to bring about a shift from a condition of nation against nation to one of global consciousness and well-being.

      Global concerns are nothing new to Americans.  At the close of World War II, our nation took on a social challenge unprecedented in the history of the planet.  Following the devastation of the war, friend and foe alike teetered on the brink of national disaster.  Industries had been exhausted or destroyed.  People were starving and dying in the streets.  On June 5, 1947, Secretary of State George C. Marshall, addressing commencement exercises at Harvard University, outlined an American vision for the rebuilding of Europe.  In four years of what was to be know popularly as the Marshall Plan, the United States provided 12 billion dollars of aid that was to restore the economic and agricultural stability of an entire continent.  The Marshall Plan exemplified our national vision and commitment to the well-being of people far beyond our borders.  As a symbol of this great human achievement, General Marshall was awarded the 1953 Nobel Prize for Peace.

      Clearly, Americans are capable of taking on the challenge of creating a system of global consciousness and prosperity.  And yet, it is equally clear that we are not now rising to the challenge.  Indeed, we do not seem to make much headway in handling the internal problems that trouble us as a nation.

      Year after year, we remain plagued by economic troubles, environmental pollution, crime in the streets.  We make no substantial progress in reducing the threat of thermonuclear war.  Politicians out of office condemn the failures of those in office and promise to solve all our problems, if elected.  Once in office, however, they seem to do no better than those they replaced.

      Every day, in many ways, individual Americans draw further inward, ìlooking out for number oneî in a hopelessly ìdog-eat-dog world.î  We grow increasingly doubtful that we can take care of ourselves, let alone care for others.   Every day we find it necessary to give up a little more on our ideals, to be a little less the kind of person we want to be.  Rather than make their criminal justice system work, people buy guns to protect their homes.  Rather than demand an equitable system of taxation, people cheat on their tax returns.

Maybe Heroes Can Save Us

      If we turn again to the historical record, we find countless examples of nations being saved from hard times and certain disaster by great heroes.  When France was threatened by English conquest, Johan of Arc raised the armies of France to repel the invaders.  Simón Bolívar brought independence to the nation that now bears his name.  When Mexican peasants suffered under the oppression of dictator after dictator, Emiliano Zapata won them land and freedom.  Except for George Washington, modern Americans might still be struggling with pounds and shillings.  With Hitlerís hordes poised at the English Channel, Winston Churchill stood up to save the day. 
 

      The point is this: throughout history, the threat of grave national disasters have sometimes been averted by the rise of heroes.  Time and again, individuals of seemingly superhuman strength and courage have taken mighty stands on behalf of causes far larger than their own individuality.

      Could Americaís current problems be resolved by a hero like those of the past?  In our politics, we seem to hold out some hope for that form of salvation.  We have a tendency to make our leaders bigger than life, to pray they can do what we cannot.  In the end, however, we are usually disappointed.

      I suggest that the root of our recent disappointments and the persistence of our national problems as well as the problems of our world lie in our search for the wrong kind of heroes.  Science fiction  writer and scientist Isaac Asimov looked in the right direction when he addressed the issue of violence on television:

     Weíve got to get rid of violence for the simple reason that it serves no purpose any more, but points us all in a useless direction. . . .

     The new enemies we have today-overpopulation, famine, pollution, scarcity-cannot be fought by violence.  There is no way to crush those enemies, or slash them, or blast them, or vaporize them. 

      The heroes who can save us today-both as a nation and as a planet-do not carry guns and swords.  They are not necessarily taller or stronger than the average, nor is there anyone for them to kill.  Most of their work will be heralded by little or no fanfare.  You do not know their names, yet they will save us.

      A clue to the nature of these new heroes can be found in the observations of Charles Ingrasci, a young American who went to India in 1977 to discover what it would take to end starvation in that beleaguered country.  Most Indians, he found, were waiting for a new Gandhi.  As he examined the nature of Indiaís problems, however, Ingrasci became convinced that hunger would not end in India until the Indians could ìfind their own Gandhi in themselves.î

      Ingrasciís observation in India applies equally to Americans.  As citizens of our nation and of the planet, we stand at a critical fork in the road.  One road leads down the hill of continued national and global decline, to America becoming another foot-note in the history of great empires and perpetuating the cycles of national rise and fall.  The other road is marked by the creation of true national and global greatness, by the resolution of those problems that now plague us as a nation, and the opportunity to realize the vision of a world that works for everyone.  We cannot take the turn toward true human greatness, however, without the appearance of a new breed of heroes.

     This is a time for heroes, and we donít have time for anything less.