Confronting the bystander

The Kitchen Sink
    By Karen Abravanel

When the boy in the blue bandana suddenly charged across the street toward a small child on a bicycle, I should have sensed what was about to happen. Instead, I proved a textbook bystander: stunned, scared, and worst of all, uninvolved.

"Give me your bike!" screamed the boy, mounting the bicycle and trying to yank it from beneath its small rider. The rider gripped the handlebars and panicked, as the color of his face receded into his oversized helmet. In desperation, the larger boy reached around the struggling rider and slapped his blanched cheek. "Give it to me!"

"Uncle, help!" shrieked the rider, ramming his front tire against the glass door of his family's grocery store. His cries drew the attention of other bystanders as well, and all conversations in the area ceased. We stood silent and helpless, extras with no role in the scene.

At last, an adult appeared and pulled the frightened rider into the safety of the store. The assailant ran back across the street, expecting the pavement to protect him. A few feet from where I stood, he met up with another, older boy who I had not noticed before. "Man, you are one crazy badass," laughed the older boy, waving an empty cardboard box that he carried in one hand. Neither boy could have been older than 13.

I watched in disgust as the pair sauntered past me, free of remorse or even concern. They confronted my scornful gaze with insolent eyes, and I said nothing.

Halfway down the block, the rider's uncle caught up with the two boys. "Which of you tried to steal his bike?" he shouted. Both boys smirked, denying everything. The older boy waved his cardboard box as an alibi, claiming that he had no free hands to try to steal a bike.

I opened my mouth to shout, "I saw him do it--him, the one in the light blue bandana," but no sound came out.

Frustrated, the uncle returned to the store, and the boys continued down the sidewalk. Nothing was resolved, nothing accomplished. Only the victim had learned any kind of lesson: watch out for yourself, because strangers will not help you.

Of all the bystanders, I should have responded. I am the one, after all, who teaches conflict resolution classes in middle school. I am the one who spouts all kinds of rhetoric about the importance of good citizenship. The assail-ant's behavior went unpunished because of my inaction, and knowing this disturbs me.

I remain haunted by my silence, but I also understand it. Silence was safe because the boy in the blue bandana was dangerous. He had already assaulted someone, in broad daylight and in plain view of several onlookers. What would prevent him from harming me? What if he, or his friend, were armed? But I was left with a frightening realization: I had not intervened on behalf of the child on his bicycle; how could I expect others to do so for me?

Our society has witnessed a recent increase in efforts at crime prevention. Yet few, if any, have targeted bystanders. In the past few years, we have seen the growth of neighborhood watches and an increase in the number of prisons and police officers. We have applauded the ratification of tougher anti-crime and "victims' rights" legislation. We have praised the development of myriad educational programs--from problem-solving curricula to "McGruff" comics--which aim to protect potential victims and dissuade potential criminals.

Few of these worthwhile programs, however, train bystanders how to react to crimes. Few emphasize the bystander's civic responsibility to prevent crime at the most basic level. Additionally, feeding the bystander's sense of helplessness, few propose specific models of how to intervene. It is of little use to advocate community involvement without giving citizens the necessary tools.

What are these tools? Training for bystanders should concentrate on their duty to intervene, although not at all costs. It should present the bystander's involvement as a fundamental means of crime prevention, and stress his or her potential impact.

Such training must also recognize the troublesome balance between civic responsibility and personal safety. Treating several different criminal situations, it should present methods that correspond to varying levels of danger.

Depending on the circumstances and the severity of the crime, such methods might range from shouting, "Hey!" to physically restraining an assailant. If a citizen could confront these issues in the safety of a classroom, he or she would be able to respond with more confidence.

When I witnessed the assault and attempted theft of the bicycle, for example, I was standing across the street. Theoretically, this distance made it safer for me to respond than for a bystander located right next to the assailant. Shouting from this distance--at the assailant or at other bystanders--would have posed little threat to my safety. And clearly, responding to adolescent theft is less threatening than trying to prevent a back-alley murder.

If the bystanders outside of the grocery store had understood such methods, would they have responded differently to the cries of the child on the bicycle? Not necessarily. Had I closely analyzed the balance between my responsibility and my safety, would I have been any less afraid? Maybe not. Yet training could have, if nothing else, alleviated our helplessness. If we had recognized the need to intervene, at least we would have had the means--and the confidence--to do so.

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