Does human life have a price?
At an end of a year I sometimes get to thinking about what I have learned, what I have observed. Though it’s not the end of the year yet, but I feel I’ve already joined the main class of this year’s course. It seems that every article I read, every news report I see blares into my soul the question that should not exist: Does human life have a price? The answer should be that every single life is priceless, but is it really?
Living this life, valuing the pleasures and hurts it brings, I always wanted to believe that these moments, the fragile existence of everyone is precious. Human individuality is unique, never seen before and never seen after, every face an imprint on this world.
I must admit I do not feel comfortable writing this, because these are things and thoughts I try to keep to myself. I have come to feel fragile, and for the first time I understand how temporary I am.
I have snagged a lucky ticket when I was born. Destiny chose to bring me to life in a place which did not see freedom, only remembered it, but soon I was given a gift of growing up in freedom, never remembering the shortage or oppressions that my parents and grandparents had to suffer. Being a child of independence and peace, I took these things to be my right, not my privilege. Not anymore.
How people who had the chance to enjoy the benefits and beauty of freedom still choose to go to war? Why? Is it our human nature? Self applied natural selection? The pattern that keeps repeating throughout history frightens me. I want to live, I want my neighbours to live, I want my parents to be at peace, everyone being able to enjoy the freedoms that seem to only last a blink.
When recently the world lost 283 beautiful souls for spite, I found a battle in me, I wanted retribution, I wanted justice. Life is priceless, and so many priceless goodness, and hope, and promise of better tomorrow fell. And though the lost do not care about justice, but we, the living, should lay it at their feet, as a sign of respect and reverence. For days I waited to hear of justice and truth being pursued, but all that could be heard were words “we believe it was; it is not clear; we will do the best we can;” and then nothing. Silence. A check was written “politically sensitive” for priceless loss, and then just sent away.
Recently, a person was publicly robbed of his life for the beliefs of others. A loss of souls, those that were taken and those that did the taking. The upheaval that rose afterwards surprised me. It was necessary, but it was surprising. Voices, faces, bodies were analysed, the world stood on its toes to find that one that took away from us. And a short while after this I hit a wall.
We were all-in to find one person of the desert, and completely silent about finding the others, who have robbed the world just as bad. Are these losses unequal? Are there factors in the world that outweigh our moral obligation for justice? And here it goes…does human life have a price, and is it different for every single one of us?
So, it is not important that you are; Is it more important from where you are, and where you were?
I want to believe that one day, still living in freedom, I will get to read and see that we fulfilled our moral obligation. That we not only sent people to rest after so much disregard that was shown to them, but that we also appreciated their pricelessness, by doing everything in our fragile human power to find justice and ensure peace.
I live in peace, I enjoyed my independence yesterday and today. I hope to live in freedom tomorrow. I hope to matter. I do not want to be sold, traded or written off. I want us to be priceless, as we are.