Conclusion

Born or Bred to Be Brave?

When Natalie Goold, Tim Britten and Richard Joyes stepped through the smashed glass, burning debris and the hysterical human mass that terrible night in Bali, they demonstrated one of the great human paradoxes: that people exhibiting their worst behaviour can inspire the best in others.

These acts of unspeakable madness became the catalyst for incredible selfless acts of courage from ordinary people who, having had their lives spared, once again risked them so that others might escape death. An act of terrorism encourages the ultimate expression of humanity; out of treachery comes honour. Up until that awful night Australians had little direct experience of terrorism but then there it was on our doorstep in all its horror, in some sort of macabre coming-of-age for the nation.

But in many ways, while the circumstances that created these 21st-century heroes were new, their response was not. People like Natalie, Tim and Richard and all the other heroes in this book were carrying on a noble tradition in which thousands of Australians over two centuries have demonstrated the ultimate expression of humanity.

Heroism has been an intrinsic and valued part of the human narrative no doubt since Stone Age men regaled each other with tales of heroic deeds encountered in the simple but dangerous acts of daily living. If heroes didn’t exist we would have to create them. For heroes represent everything that is good about humans; a sort of moral light on the hill. They serve to remind us that in spite of our most base behaviour we are capable of the best. There could be no higher or more honourable moral than to risk your life to save another.

Australian social researcher Hugh McKay says we honour our heroes because they transcend human weakness. They have done something remarkable and unique and demonstrate to ourselves that we are capable of extraordinary feats of courage. ‘They represent our capacity to prevail. They defend us against our own tendency to be sucked down into despair, depression or even boredom. They raise our sights, our hopes and our spirits,’ he says. In other words, heroes serve to remind us of our humanity, that ultimately we are capable of good and that our natural predisposition is to be virtuous rather than malevolent.

Since the early days of white colonisation, individual acts of heroism have been dutifully – and proudly – recorded on the Australian historical record. Being so far from the British homeland, and the accompanying deprivations, was a catalyst for displays of bravery. Even the journey here was in itself a heroic effort because of the inherent dangers of sea travel and our uncharted waters.

Australia’s coast is littered with the wrecks of ships caught out by the reefs and turbulent waters of an unknown coastline. One of the earliest honours awarded by the Royal Humane Society of Australasia, which began recording and rewarding acts of bravery from 1874, was the result of one of the many ships wrecked along our treacherous coastlines.

The society’s first gold medal went to Thomas Pearce for his rescue of a woman passenger, Eva Carmichael. He and Eva were the only two survivors of the disastrous sinking of the Loch Ard at Port Campbell in 1878. Thomas, who had managed to swim ashore after the Loch Ard ran aground on rocks, heard Eve’s plaintive calls for help in the darkness. Despite being exhausted and bleeding from injuries, he re-entered the surf and rough seas to rescue her.

The vast unknown continent inspired explorers to discover what lay beyond the coast to which the new settlers clung. Many of their expeditions were in the tradition of the epic journeys of great discoverers such as Columbus and Magellan and, even if they failed to return, as Burke and Wills did, we still honoured and admired them. All the explorers displayed heroic attributes of determination and courage when faced with hostile environments, putting their lives at risk.

As the country developed and settlers followed in the explorers’ footsteps, civilian heroes made their mark as well. As Australian historian Professor Geoffrey Blainey said, Australia was a hazardous place and everyday life presented enormous risks. There were bushfires and floods, frightened horses bolting in streets, and rivers and lakes were potential death traps to many because swimming was not a common skill.

People got into trouble on farms and down mines from dangerous machinery and toxic fumes. Occupational health and safety was an idea yet to be invented, and there were no official rescue organisations. And so any rescue operations were haphazard affairs carried out by individuals. Blainey believes these civilian acts of courage established Australia’s heroic tradition long before we went to war.

While many say Australia’s heroic efforts in World War I was our coming of age, Blainey believes the bravery displayed by the ANZACs at Gallipoli was merely an extension of a tradition established in colonial times. ‘Military bravery does not arise from nothing: it arises from deeper roots in everyday life,’ he said. ‘One reason why Gallipoli so caught the imagination was that bravery for long had stood high on the list of civic virtues.’

But it is in battle, certainly, that some of our greatest heroic traditions are rooted. It wasn’t until Australians were bloodied in battle on the killing fields of Europe that we had heroes in the truest sense of the word.

The ANZAC is one of the most potent heroic symbols of the 20th century, one that Australia holds dear. The stories of the ANZACs have become our versions of the Roman and Greek myths, as a generation of Australia’s finest youth was sacrificed on the altar of war. One story in particular has become the touchstone of Australia’s heroic tradition, the quintessential ANZAC story Simpson and his donkey. John Simpson Kirkpatrick, the English-born Australian infantryman, embodied the essence of courage, bravery and self-sacrifice and all that we admire about the Australian heroic character he was a bit of a larrikin, self-deprecating and cheerful.

Simpson landed at Gallipoli on ANZAC Day 1915, serving with the field ambulance in the medical corps. For four weeks his job was to carry the wounded on a donkey from the front line to the dressing station along a notoriously dangerous route from the head of Monash Valley down Shrapnel Gully in full view of snipers. But he carried out his duty without question or complaint, and with honour. For days he managed to dodge the Turkish snipers’ aim but on 19 May his luck ran out and in Monash Valley a bullet smashed into his heart, killing him instantly. Sadly, while recommended for a bravery award he never received one.

Australia’s tradition of military heroism continued through every other campaign it has been involved in, right up to the 2003 Iraq war. There are countless stories of individuals and groups and their selfless acts of bravery, many of whom achieved truly heroic status, most notably winners of the Victoria Cross.

 

In the absence of a Guinness Book of Records entry for the bravest act ever performed, honours systems including the VC list, Australia’s Royal Humane Society awards and the federal bravery honours system are the only measures we have in an attempt to establish a bravery benchmark. But then to establish such a benchmark is to limit the spectrum of heroics and bravery which can be manifest in many ways. It might be a single episode over in seconds or a sustained series of acts of selfless sacrifice endangering your own life over a long period.

The problem with attempting to define heroism is that there are no strict boundaries which contain it. Heroism occupies a continuum with varying levels of risk and the definition may come down to the person itself. An act of bravery for one might be routine for another. The weak swimmer with a paralysing fear of water who goes to the rescue of someone in trouble just beyond the break is braver than the young fit lifesaver who may swim out a kilometre to save someone and may have done it dozens of times in a summer. The claustrophobe who enters a narrow cave to rescue an injured caver or the person with a fear of heights who climbs down to help an injured rock climber are people of enormous courage.

On this basis heroism could be defined simply as the degree to which you can overcome your own fears to the point where you can help someone else. But true heroism, the pinnacle if you like, is overcoming your own fears to the point where you would knowingly endanger your own life to save another. True bravery is not possible without that element and it is that element which characterises the stories in this book.

Paradoxically, some heroes say they simply had no fear and had no sense of putting their life at risk, not consciously anyway. Others, such as Tony Gioia, will say that their heroic act was simply a desperate bid by them to avoid certain death. By that definition they see nothing heroic in it, just the very basic urge for self-preservation and the fear for one’s own life. Maybe.

For some, courage and bravery are matters of instinct, for others they are the product of training or the discipline of law. There is the unambiguous military duty to obey orders. The Gallipoli soldiers clambering out of the trenches to face certain death were simply obeying orders, and many veterans have admitted as much. But their efforts should not be diminished by the fact they were in part motivated by some convention or law. While obedience and duty can be strong motivating factors, their acts still required enormous courage and did nothing to diminish their bravery.

If military personnel are trained to expect the ultimate sacrifice, what about trained emergency services personnel? They are trained after all to deal with danger, to save people’s lives in perilous situations. But there is a difference between them and soldiers. Firemen, policeman and ambulance officers are highly trained but they do have a responsibility to themselves and most are trained with a view to their own safety first. They are not paid to risk their lives. Their duty is to use their training to do their best for people.

But of course in dangerous life-threatening situations the line is grey and blurred. What constitutes an acceptable risk and an unacceptable one is sometimes impossible to define, particularly in the split second required for a decision. The New York firemen, who were eventually trapped and killed in the burning twin towers on 11 September 2001, knew it was their duty to attempt to save people. But it was not their duty to die. The fact they did is because they did step over the line separating acceptable risk and danger to themselves. They were heroic not because they were firemen or policeman or military. They were heroic because they were human.

The most intriguing thing about bravery is its direct contradiction of the most basic human response, which is to protect your own life first and foremost. There could possibly be no stronger instinct than the one for survival. What motivation could possibly override that and lead someone untrained and unprompted to risk their life to help someone in trouble, particularly a perfect stranger?

Few people ever expect to be confronted with apocalyptic scenes in a plush office tower, witness an unfolding tragedy on a glistening beach in the sun or to face murder in a bank queue. So how are we to be brave? What prepares us to summon the courage and the mettle and what possible factors could drive someone to risk their life to save another’s? What indeed is bravery and how do we define it?

In attempting to do just this US philosophy academic and writer Dr Andrew Bernstein came up with the idea of bravery being moral behaviour that is behaviour that is more than instinctive, more than some simple biological response. By suggesting a moral dimension he suggests bravery, courage and heroism may be purely a human trait.

‘Courage is integrity in a context: it is unyielding commitment to one’s values in the teeth of a force or foe that threatens one. The brave man is not necessarily one who is unafraid but one who performs whatever protective actions his values require, no matter the intensity of his fear. This bravery is the special moral hallmark of the hero,’ Dr Bernstein said.

Certainly bravery needs an explanation that is more than biological because such behaviour runs contrary to the most basic animal instinct: to ensure your own survival. Of course we know that humans throughout history have continually risked their own lives to protect others, not just from physical threats but from political, religious or ideological oppression as well. So just what is it that drives humans to exhibit what is the pinnacle of human behaviour, a behaviour psychologists and biologists call altruism?

Altruism is a fascinating human condition because it suggests a higher motivating force, a morality, that distinguishes us from more basic organisms. Psychologists, anthropologists and evolutionary biologists have all been interested in this question and have tried to untangle the genesis of it. Is altruism or helping behaviour something innate and instinctive, something we are hard-wired for and over which we have little or no control? Could there be a gene for heroic behaviour? Or perhaps it is something learned or shaped by society’s norms and moral values and by our own experiences?

There appears to be no definitive answer to this highly complex question. Perhaps it is a mix of all these things. As suggested, an act of heroism is a huge contradiction because to risk your own life to save another goes against the almost overwhelming human instinct for survival. And indeed an inestimable number of people have literally paid for their heroism with their lives. In Australia about 300 acts of heroism since 1874 were awarded post-humously, each story tragic in it own way, for the rescuers as well as the rescued.

The idea that people do actually pay with their own lives for their acts of heroism demonstrates the full spectrum of human behaviour and the paradox that lies within it.

At one end of the spectrum we are capable of making the extreme sacrifice of giving our life to save another’s, while at the other we are capable of the worst atrocities, such as murder and genocide, in which we kill other humans for no other reason than they are different.

So let’s start with biology for some ideas because it can explain in part many animal behaviours. Most evolutionary biologists seem to agree altruism has evolved in not just humans but other animals as well, indicating there is a genetic basis for it arising from the theory of natural selection. This would suggest that altruism may in fact help survival of the species overall, even if it poses a risk to the individual. The drive for self-preservation lies deeply ingrained in our genes, which have been shaped by millions of years of evolution designed to maximise our fitness and longevity. And they will not let us risk our lives lightly. In fact our genes act specifically to prevent us from endangering our lives.

We have an exquisitely honed system to alert us to danger and then to automatically propel us away from it. This is the ‘flight’ part of the flight-and-fight response, and a relating cocktail of hormones such as adrenaline acting on our nerve pathways to ignite our muscles, super-sensitise our nerves and prepare us to run from danger. But as the name implies we don’t always fly. Sometimes we stop and confront the threat and in doing so we actually put ourselves at risk of death or injury. And therein is one of the major contradictions of our biology.

What is also interesting is that the response is not just limited to human behaviour. Many animal species exhibit altruistic behaviour, suggesting that it is a programmed biological response rather than a moral response. Dolphins, for example, have been seen to help and support a sick or injured dolphin in the water by keeping their blowholes open to the air. Wild herd animals will put themselves in grave danger to defend their territories and their young from attack by predators. In fact the defence and protection of family members, particularly offspring, is probably the strongest motivating force animals have. The compulsion to protect a family member is perhaps even stronger than that for self-preservation.

All parents know the desire to protect a child is overwhelming and they will risk anything to protect or save them. Many of those 300 posthumous awards were for parents or siblings who died while trying to save children in difficulty. So there is a paradox of evolution here. How can altruism have evolved in animals and be programmed into the genes when it could mean the death of the individual displaying it? Does that not go against the very premise of evolution, the Darwinian theory of survival of the fittest?

The theory of natural selection suggests that individuals exhibiting altruism have a high risk of killing themselves and thereby selecting themselves out rather than in. But there is an explanation which is consistent with the Darwinian theory. Evolutionary biologists have suggested the answer lies in group selection (also known as kin selection), rather than individual selection. In other words altruistic or helping behaviours are linked to our behaviour as social animals in which help and assistance to members of the group is necessary for survival of everyone in the group. So the groups that exhibit altruism stand a better chance of survival overall than those that don’t, which explains why altruism has evolved despite the paradox.

Further, this theory would account for saving a member of your family, even if you die, ensuring your genes will be passed on. The theory is that we have a genetic investment in our relatives and the closer the genes to yours, the more likely you will do anything to protect that investment. Thus a parent with 50 per cent investment in their child’s genes would go to their rescue in raging surf, while a bystander who is unrelated is more likely to alert a lifesaver or someone else. In the same way the male lion that fights off competitors is attempting to preserve his genes, a mother will risk her life to save her offspring. It is all about ensuring your genes continue to be spread through the population.

So while risking your life to protect others seems to work against an individual’s programming to ensure its survival, it is actually about improving the chances of survival of your group. By saving a member of your own family you ensure a higher chance of your genes passing on even though you as an individual might die. But this still does not explain fully the extraordinary acts of bravery from people who rescue complete strangers. We need to look at other factors.

Some socio-biologists have developed the concept of reciprocal altruism to explain this. This goes along the lines that if I do something to help another, that person is more likely to help me at some later time when I am in trouble. Others have suggested that having developed the innate behaviour of protecting those most closely related to us, we have evolved to simply extend that behaviour to others not related but still of the same species.

But there is still significant variation in individuals’ responses to another’s distress. We don’t all respond the same way and some of us may do nothing or even run away from the situation. So biology is not an entirely satisfactory explanation on its own and there are still some flaws and unexplained aspects of this theory. What about age?

We see extraordinary acts of bravery from children who normally would be the ones being protected rather than doing the protecting. This contradicts the notion that children’s undeveloped skills and leadership and higher fears inhibit their rescuing ability. In 1998 at the notorious Gunnamatta surf beach in Victoria, Emma Wilson at just 12 years of age held grimly onto her drowned sister as they were both swept out to sea by a rip, before being rescued 30 minutes later. Their cousin Catherine Leahy, 17, also drowned during the rescue bid.

Something else is working to override the flight response and to switch it to ensuring the survival of someone else. This is where the world of the psyche, psychology and personality begins to play a part.

 

In New York, late one night in 1964, a young woman was walking home from work when a man viciously attacked her with a knife. Her name was Kitty Genovese and her attacker terrorised her for a full 30 minutes. All that time her screams went unanswered, and the police were never called until her body was found some hours later.

After the police investigated, they discovered 38 people had heard Kitty’s cries for help but none offered assistance or called the police. In the heart of one of the most populous cities on earth, a killer was able to carry out his deadly work unimpeded and unchallenged, leaving a young woman to die alone and helpless.

The case came to symbolise the heartlessness of modern society and the alienating influence of a big city. Many suggested that our natural compassion and desire to help others had been eroded by growing urbanisation and the ruthlessness of an individualistic and capitalistic society. It became a textbook case as psychologists attempted to answer the question of just what human foibles were at play here. What stops some people from helping and what motivates others? The question launched a new era of research into altruism, the concept of how and why humans help others, often to their own cost.

The evolutionary aspects of altruism talked about earlier had been investigated but they do not offer a complete explanation because as we know not everyone is altruistic. People react differently when presented with someone in need. Some will help, others will dither, and others will be oblivious or downright uncaring. The fact each individual’s response varies suggests it is more learned than innate, otherwise we would all respond in the same way. We may be genetically programmed to some extent for it, but do we have to learn how and when to use altruism? Perhaps it is learned from childhood because of some social construct that we have a responsibility to help others. If so does the Kitty Genovese case suggest we have stopped learning how to be altruistic? Is it possible to predict how people may react to a call for help?

And even if it were possible to explain why people are helpful to others when it involves only minor sacrifices, could altruism extend to risking your own life and safety for another? Could there be a moral dimension of altruistic behaviour that cannot be explained by evolution alone? Can we be motivated purely by the desire to do good for others with no expectation of any rewards? And is there an altruistic personality by which we can predict which people will be heroes and which ones won’t?

This idea that pure altruism that is moral behaviour not simply related to biological notions of survival, but motivated by nothing more than concern for a fellow human being exists has been debated by psychologists. One school of thinking is that altruism is motivated in part, or totally, by what the helper can get out of it for himself or herself. The reward could be in the form of material gain or it could be emotional, for example the feeling of appreciation or indebtedness from the rescued and the boost to their self-esteem.

Even subtler might be self-reward in terms of feelings of power. It could even be the rescuer is motivated by the wish to avoid feelings of guilt or remorse or the disapproval of others if she or he does not act. It may alleviate their own sense of distress at seeing another suffer or relieve the guilt they anticipate they will feel if they don’t help.

But this seems a particularly cynical view, particularly the idea of material gain. It might explain helping behaviour in non-emergency situations or even in emergency situations where the rescuer is not at any risk. But when it comes to true heroism, by our definition that the rescuers put their own life in jeopardy, the explanation that someone will do it out of selfish reasons because it will make them feel better is wanting. This is not to say people who perform heroic deeds do not feel good about it they do. But it is a by-product of that action, not a cause.

It is hard to imagine any of the heroes in this book being motivated by the expectation of a reward for what they did. With the huge risk of death or injury from heroic behaviour such expectations of material or emotional gain would be entirely insufficient motivation. Certainly for all of the people interviewed for this book, expectation of a reward was non-existent. In fact the opposite was often the case – most saying they were uneasy with the attention the deeds attracted and some did not even want to accept their medals for bravery for the same reason.

Desire for accolades would be most likely the last thing on their mind. A study by American psychologist C. Daniel Batson certainly suggests that the desire to help is not motivated by expectation of reward and that people’s motivation can be truly altruistic. On the other hand the expression of ‘anticipatory guilt’ by heroes ‘If I didn’t help I couldn’t live with myself’ is a common one and a very interesting proposition in heroic rescue. For Chris Bald at Kangaroo Island it was a strong force. Whether this can be regarded as somehow a ‘gain’ for the hero seems to be stretching the notion of selfishness a long way.

 

If we accept heroism is not motivated by the possibility of reward what else can explain it? What people are likely to exhibit it?

Psychologists have come up with various explanations and ideas to point us in the right direction. They talk about modelling and socialisation, which in effect teach us about personal norms or moral values and codes of behaviour. These are important to the smooth functioning of family and society, which can play a huge part in altruism.

Norms are by and large a cultural construct, not innate or genetic, but the result of socialising or being shown and taught. Individuals who are socialised among caring compassionate people family, friends and teachers who demonstrate that caring and compassion in practical ways are more likely to exhibit that behaviour themselves. Norms also explain why there is tremendous variation in the different reactions of people to a call for help. It stands to follow that people raised and socialised among people who are totally selfish, self-obsessed and oblivious to other people’s feelings or situations are likely to exhibit that behaviour as well.

We all know that some people have a well-developed sense of charity, and have few constraints on extending that charity. Others have a view that some people are worthier of help than others and if you are in a predicament through your own fault you are not as deserving as those who are not.

On the other hand we know there are plenty of people sufficiently selfish, self-centred and uncompassionate not to give two hoots about helping someone regardless of the circumstances. If someone can assault another over a petty incident such as in road rage, it is not too much of a leap to expect that same person is unlikely to help another. So personal norms play a big role and explain where biology can’t why some people help and others don’t.

Psychologists believe the concept of empathy also has a very significant role in altruism. The ability for one human to appreciate and understand the plight of another to the point of being emotionally affected is a strong motivating force for altruism. Put simply, empathy means asking ourselves ‘How would I feel if I was in their shoes? I want to help because that person could be me.’

If the empathetic person comes across someone in need of help or rescue they will feel strongly for that person and want to set things right, even if it involves some risk to their own safety or well-being. There are situations however where empathy alone may not be enough. Is it possible to feel some empathy for the drunk who has crashed his car and now needs your help? Would you rescue someone from a burning house as Craig Young did if you knew the person had set it alight to commit suicide? Again, highly developed personal norms are likely to take over and, even if empathy is hard to find, one helps because it is still the right thing to do.

A person who has high standards of personal values and behaviour and a high sense of empathy is likely to participate in helping behaviour. Their response is shaped by the way they were brought up and the moral and social values instilled in them. And if they have also been the recipient of altruism they are more likely to help others.

 

In the wake of the Kitty Genovese case psychologists set up experiments with students and the public to try to unravel the mystery of altruism, to see if it could be predicted how people react to a helping situation. They also wanted to know if there were external factors which could modify our response regardless of our empathy or norms.

These experiments involved actors in scenarios such as someone asking for directions, or simulated emergency situations in which medical assistance was needed. It is worth noting that experiments are unable to simulate truly life-threatening heroic rescues, as such experiments would by definition pose too great a risk to participants and be ethically questionable. But nevertheless the social psychologists’ experiments provide the best insight we have into the psychology of heroism and how helping behaviour might lead to heroic behaviour.

American psychologists Bibb Latane and John Darley in 1970 identified various steps or decisions that need to be made by someone before they help. First, people must notice something happening, interpret it as an emergency, assume responsibility, consider appropriate assistance and then offer it. There are a number of factors that can influence each step of the process.

One of the landmark findings from these experiments was that the size of a group around an emergency situation is a key influence on whether someone intervenes or not. The bigger the group the less likely one individual will take responsibility for action. A single bystander on his or her own is much more likely to progress through the steps of noticing, interpreting an emergency, assuming responsibility and offering assistance. Introduce other witnesses to an emergency situation and the process becomes more complicated. ‘If only one bystander is present at an emergency he carries all of the responsibility for dealing with it. He will feel all the guilt for not acting; he will bear all the blame that accrues for non-intervention. If others are present the onus of responsibility is diffused and the finger of blame points less directly at any one person.’ (Latane and Darley, The Unresponsive Bystander, Why Doesn’t He Help? 1970.)

In a group, people can rationalise their inability to act by thinking someone else is helping. If no one helps it is easier to think that help is not needed. Our own behaviour is often modified by that of others and if they do nothing we can deceive ourselves into thinking there is no emergency. As well, inaction may not be because someone has made a decision not to help but simply because they are being indecisive.

So in those experiments where people did not respond it did not mean they were unfeeling and heartless. Quite the reverse. They reported being distressed but were simply unsure about how to give help. This is often a major factor in why people do not help.

In the first instance, people in a group, particularly where they are not known, will stand back to avoid that most basic of human fears: embarrassment. They don’t want to embarrass themselves by offering help when it is not needed. They worry they might be seen to be foolish despite the need for help being quite clear.

And as well as these feelings our sense of responsibility is diffused. Surely someone else will help, we think. This is what happened in the Genovese case everyone believed someone closer to the action would have done something. This key finding of the studies suggested that humans in the 20th century had not evolved into some heartless unfeeling individuals but were affected by this phenomenon the psychologists named ‘social inhibition’, also known as the bystander effect. In that New York neighbourhood with hundreds of residents, everyone assumed someone else would take responsibility. Not good enough perhaps but not behaviour which suggests people have become inhumane or uncompassionate.

So there are two factors that are important in determining our response: one is how close we are to someone in need and the other is how many other witnesses are present. The closer we are and the fewer the witnesses, the more likely we are to act.

But further studies unveiled other more complicating elements. People will feel constrained to act by other perceived disadvantages. What if the person is bloody and injured or drunk and covered in vomit? Even more of a stronger disincentive is if there is a perception the danger is still present. In cases of violent crime it is quite understandable that fear can be a major barrier to people actively helping this is the self-preservation principle at work. This perception of a threat to one’s safety is very strong and can override any other urges to help. This is what is most likely preventing people from acting in violent or threatening situations.

Age, sex, experience or training and physical size are also influencing factors. Ted Huston, a psychologist, studied people who intervened in violent crimes such as assaults and found that these people were taller and heavier than average and perceived themselves to be physically stronger, aggressive and principled. He also found 84 per cent were injured as a result which vindicates people’s reluctance to help in those situations.

The studies on gender appear inconclusive with females no more likely or unlikely to help than males. The only exception to this was in very dangerous situations where men were more likely to act than women. Female qualities are more likely to be nurturing and caring, so in some ways they are more likely to assist in organised forms of helping such as fund-raising for natural disasters, an Australian study found. More heroic forms of helping seem to fall to men because there is a societal norm of men being expected to help the weak, to take risks and be chivalrous. Certainly the figures seem to bear that theory out. Of the 7,000 people awarded the Royal Humane Society awards, 80 per cent are male.

How you interpret this apparent gender imbalance is difficult and there might be aspects of gender politics that come into play here. Could it be possible many more acts of bravery have been performed by women but did not achieve official recognition, in the same way women appear to be poorly represented in the honours awarded to science, arts and literature? There appears to be no studies on this aspect.

There is certainly no question though of the quality of female bravery when it is displayed. There is the case of Beryl Smith, who in 1993 confronted a gunman in an East Melbourne medical clinic after he shot a woman in the head. Ms Smith kept the gunman talking while others could escape and raise the alarm. She kept him talking for five to six minutes as he aimed the gun at her, no doubt petrified she would be the next victim. Eventually he shot her in the leg but she remained upright and talking until he eventually left and was arrested. She received the Royal Humane Society’s highest awards of the Clarke gold medal and the Stanhope medal. And Natalie Goold, Joy Newmann and Jennifer Long all displayed spectacular bravery.

Professor Blainey argues the under-representation of women is related to their under-representation historically in the armed forces, in dangerous work occupations lifesaving, firefighting and so on where public bravery was most recognised. In daily life though a far higher proportion of sacrificial acts and gestures have been performed by women and without public recognition, he said. ‘Such acts, part of the recurring cycle of child rearing and family raising, were so frequent and so private that they defied the systematic making of awards.’ Similarly Aborigines are likely to be under represented for similar reasons.

Studies also indicate people from smaller communities such as country towns are more likely to give help than those from bigger centres. But as always it depends on the perceived costs of helping. If they involve high rates of giving or sacrifice or unpleasantness, everyone, no matter where they are from, is less likely to help. They will diffuse responsibility to others or withdraw.

Psychologists say the attributes of those in trouble can also influence helping behaviour. As we have seen, the more a rescuer knows the rescued, the more likely he or she is to help close family first but even a brief acquaintance with someone can improve your chances of being helped by that person.

Physical looks also help. Males are more likely to help a female, particularly a young attractive one, than another male but the experts argue this may be more about the possibility of a romantic outcome than altruism! And drunks are less likely to be helped than the sick or injured because a drunk is perceived to be responsible for his or her state and so less deserving of sympathy.

Some people may be motivated by feeling good about themselves. Studies show happy people are more likely to help, if only because it would help them to stay feeling happy. We know ourselves we are more likely to feel generous when we are happy and more likely to give to the charity collector at the door.

The effect of negative or unhappy states on a rescuer is less clear. In some cases a sad person might be more likely to help than a happy person because it could be seen to make them feel better about themselves. But studies showed not a lot of support for this theory.

It is clear from the experiences of emergency services personnel that another factor is relevant and that is competence and confidence, particularly through technical training. Training can overcome the social inhibition factor to a large extent. If there are people on the scene of an emergency who demonstrate some form of competence, people will automatically defer to them.

So the ambulance officer, the doctor or policeman among a group of witnesses will by default become the helper, once their roles are known. Ted Huston found a high proportion of first aiders or people with lifesaving experience among helpers. This experience and training tend to launch people into helping. This may be linked in some way to personality and a helping nature as much as the training itself. Once a ‘leader’ is identified in an emergency situation others will help quite willingly, if directed, which reinforces the view that people by nature are not heartless and caring but simply need permission to overcome their social inhibition or the bystander effect.

Social inhibition can serve to suppress even the truly altruistic person. But training gives people a recipe to follow in the event of an emergency situation and is extra motivation to helping. Whether it is first aid or leadership training, it can be a very useful way of eliminating the bystander effect and promoting helping behaviour in general. Even just being aware of and understanding the bystander effect helps to avoid it.

But there is a view that bystanders may be prevented from going to someone’s rescue by more than just social inhibition. In truly life-threatening situations people will be much more reluctant to help if they perceive a real risk to their lives. Melbourne psychologist Dr Max Jory believes people will act according to their own rational assessment of risk. The bystander who does not act perceives himself to be putting himself at an unacceptable risk, while those who do either do not assess any risk or believe it is an acceptable one.

If someone doesn’t dive into the sea to rescue someone caught in a rip it could well be because they have formed a view that they too are likely to drown, according to Jory. He disagrees with the notion that those who don’t help in life-threatening situations are not heroic and by definition, in some way, are not as good or moral as those who do. The definition of heroism is also possibly too narrow. People can do something less overtly heroic, for example call an ambulance or the police, yet be just as helpful and altruistic as the hero who goes down the cliff in a harness to rescue a fallen climber.

Even when people do try to make a rational decision about rescuing, it is still very difficult for those who are untrained and unprepared. They are not equipped to analyse the risk accurately nor have the technical rescuing skills lifesaving or abseiling for example. You have to be able to simultaneously decide if intervention is required at all, what you can do best to help and if you are going to put yourself at risk.

Those who act heroically may not do any of this analysis, jumping in without thinking, which in itself is not a good thing, Jory believes. A more rational person may do this analysis and opt out, which should be accepted as a good reasonable decision rather than interpreted as cowardly. In fact Jory believes there is a fine line between heroism and foolishness and some acts of bravery can be reckless if they expose the rescuer to death or life-changing injuries. You then end up with two tragedies instead of one.

He wonders whether society should reward heroic behaviour at all. On the one hand police and emergency services tell us, the general public, that our own safety is our first priority; that you should not risk your safety to help another. Yet when someone does it in a heroic situation they are praised as heroes and awarded medals.

Social researcher Hugh McKay is another who believes there are limits to the hero label and there is a point where it is nothing more than foolhardiness. The circumstances of the victim can play a key part in this. McKay talks about the solo round-the-world sailors who risk their lives sailing in some of the most treacherous waters in the world. He questions whether it is heroic to attempt a rescue of someone who has knowingly put themselves at high risk of death or injury for no other reason than a personal sense of achievement. Such egocentric behaviour does not justify someone else risking their life to rescue them when something goes wrong.

One such case was the rescue of sailor Raphael Dinelli during the 1996 single-handed Vendee Globe race. Dinelli’s boat was hit by a monster wave during a storm out of hell itself which capsized him deep in the Southern Ocean. His Mayday call was relayed to British sailor Pete Goss who made the difficult decision to track back 250 kilometres in the most dangerous weather he had ever experienced. By incredible skill, luck and some help from the RAAF, he found Dinelli adrift in his life raft on the edge of death from hypothermia. Was this heroism or just plain stupidity? If heroism is to be a virtue it should only be derived from a noble cause, not the result of egocentric behaviour, McKay believes.

Reluctance to act in a life-threatening situation is natural and rational. Anyone who criticises someone for not acting is unjustified because no one can appreciate what it is like to be in a specific situation and every situation will be unique, Jory says. Witnesses can feel helpless and that is enormously distressing but they need to work through that: it is not their responsibility. They have a right to their own safety first.

Jory believes that in a life-threatening rescue, counselling for heroes, and for bystanders who did not do anything, could be useful particularly where the outcome has been tragic. People involved may suffer guilt because they either did not do anything or think they did not do enough. Jory says this is destructive and pointless thinking, particularly for those who did not do anything for fear they would risk their own lives. Self preservation is a very strong motivating factor, so they should not feel guilt.

Dwelling on thoughts of ‘If only I had done xyz’ is a negative self-defeating thought process. Psychologists call it counter factual thinking because there is no guarantee that if you had done x, y or z it would have resulted in any different outcome. In fact it could have ended up worse than the real outcome, with your death as well.

Jory says you can’t change the past anyway so it is fruitless and pointless to indulge in this thinking. But you can learn from hindsight and use it for future reference. Reflection can build your inventory of knowledge, helping you to make better decisions next time.

These are interesting points and one can see the foolhardiness of some rescues. But again it depends on who the victim is. Jory’s theory is possibly valid for the situation in which a stranger fails to act, but what about family or close friends? It is hard to imagine a parent choosing not to attempt a rescue of their child being swept out to sea because of their own fears of drowning. Even if they know there is a high probability of them both dying the compulsion to act is overwhelming, so deep and strong are family bonds. James Casey was at Blairgowrie beach in Victoria in September 1973 when his daughter was washed into deep water by a wave and was in trouble. His son Joseph and his brother went to her rescue but were separated and Joseph drowned. James, although he couldn’t swim and had an injured leg, waded out into the surf to try and find his daughter but also drowned. It is a familiar tragedy repeated almost very summer somewhere on an Australian beach.

 

One thing is clear from the literature: helping behaviour, particularly heroism, defies a simple analysis. There appears to be a whole range of social, psychological and biological factors at play. The social inhibition factor suggests that if someone has gone to give assistance and others have not, it does not make the inactive ones somehow unheroic. They have simply been affected by the bystander effect. We also know training people in lifesaving skills or other leadership roles and explaining the social inhibition factor can break down the barriers to helping. But is this enough to fully explain the hero’s ultimate act?

All of the research into altruism has led psychologists to suggest there are truly altruistic personalities, natural heroes if you like, who are the creation of their upbringing, the result of high values instilled in them by their families, friends, teachers and mentors.

US psychologist J. Phillipe Rushton believes the characteristics of the truly altruistic personality, which all heroes share, are these: a strong sense of justice and social responsibility, strong empathy for the feelings and suffering of others, and an ability to see the world from other people’s point of view. They are more likely to value and engage in acts of helping, including heroic acts. They behave consistently, more honestly and persistently and with greater self control than those who do not share the altruists’ values, Rushton believes.

The altruistic person is likely to have what is known these days as a resilient personality well rounded with strong feelings of personal effectiveness and well-being and what might generally be called integrity. They will have become this way by socialisation from like-minded people in their family and friendships and this allows the expression of whatever genetic predisposition there is to help.

It appears then that we are born with a predisposition to helping behaviour. Our genes programme us to express it because thousands of years of evolution have selected for it. By helping each other we are more likely to pass on our genes and increase our species’ fitness for survival.

But that is only the start. Our environment in terms of our socialisation and the instilling of values and norms will determine if we express those genes. If we have observed models of good social behaviour of helping and our relationships reinforce them as good, we are more likely to adopt similar behaviour.

In essence, if you were to find yourself in a dangerous situation what you would hope for is this: that there would not be a crowd standing by witnessing it because you are more likely to be rescued if there are only one or two present. You would hope that one of them is a close relative, that they have been brought up in a caring and compassionate environment and therefore display all the attributes of an altruistic personality with a strong sense of empathy. With all that you have a good chance of a hero coming to your rescue. Throw in some training of the hero as well and you have an extra chance of your rescue being successful.

 

There is little doubt all the heroes in this book fit the altruistic personality described here. All our heroes displayed these norms, the result of a nurturing upbringing by parents who instilled their high values and so planted the seeds of their heroism in their characters. They also exhibited great empathy for their rescued. Some had little or no background in training or leadership but even those that did people such as Ian Boughton most notably pushed beyond what would be considered acceptable limits.

 

While we continue to be surprised and inspired by displays of heroism is it possible the frequency of brave acts is declining? Could it be our capacity for heroism is being eroded by modern day living and our attitudes to risk? In a world where the pure risks in life are increasingly being contained and where we sub-contract heroism out to professionals the police, paramedics and firefighters opportunities for civilians to be heroes are increasingly rare.

Professor Blainey wonders, as did psychologists in the Kitty Genovese case, whether the growth of cities and their anonymity and impersonal nature has reduced people’s feelings of obligation to each other, and if in fact bravery is no longer valued as highly as it was in the past. ‘There is now an Australian Hall of Fame for almost everything except civilian bravery and sheer self-sacrifice and yet this was perhaps the greatest of traditional virtues and was displayed mostly by ordinary Australians coming from every walk of life,’ he said in his 1999 Boyer lecture.

It is true few Australians would have ever heard of the Cross of Valour, the Clarke medal or the Star of Courage, let alone put on it the same importance as the Brownlow or an Olympic gold medal. The Cross of Valour, as the highest decoration for civilian bravery, at least should stand alongside the military’s Victoria Cross in status. But civilian heroes do not go entirely un-recognised. The work of the Royal Humane Society since 1874 and the Federal Government since 1975 through its bravery award system has ensured heroic deeds are recognised and documented.

In Colin Bannister’s book 7,000 Brave Australians, published by the Royal Humane Society of Australasia in 1994, those 7,000 people awarded medals since 1874 are named, with descriptions of some of their selfless acts of courage. An analysis of the type of rescues provides an interesting insight into the way life has changed and the sort of risks people faced.

In the late 1880s more than two-thirds of rescues were from drowning, particularly in rivers and lakes but also in the sea and during floods. The next biggest category was from rescues involving trains, then rescues from suicide and fires. In the early 1990s drowning rescues had dropped to about half of all awards with a much greater proportion in the surf and sea than in 1880.

As a proportion of the population, the number of rescues has declined markedly because of better education and safety measures. The main reason why drownings have declined is the huge growth in teaching children to swim, plus the lifesaving movement. Both these factors had their origins in the Royal Humane Society and its campaign to stop this preventable loss of life.

Certainly the opportunities for bravery to be displayed are less today, particularly for civilians. Police and other emergency service workers feature more prominently in awards these days, suggesting civilians are more inclined to leave heroism to the professionals. Altruistic behaviour in a way has become professionalised and institutionalised whereas in the 19th century there were few emergency service workers to call on so ordinary citizens had to be heroic.

Today our awareness of risk and adherence to strict work practices and procedures is heightened and we are probably more reluctant to do something that once would have been spontaneous because of that.

Is Blainey correct in his assertion that we don’t value bravery as much as we used to or are less impressed by it? I’m not so sure. True heroism, despite the best risk planning and safety measures can and still does happen and in some ways our appreciation of it is possibly even greater today.

But I think Blainey is right that after the medals and the media exposure our civilian heroes go back to obscurity and sometimes poverty. We don’t remember them like we remember the ANZACs or our Olympians. There is no hall of fame, no day of remembrance and certainly no financial support: not that any of our heroes would expect it. But it would be nice to ensure that they had regular recognition and that they were looked after if life got tough. There could be no more disrespect paid than to see a winner of the Clarke medal or a Cross of Valour someone who has demonstrated the greatest gift to humanity of all left on the scrapheap.

So perhaps once a year we should have National Hero Day, a time to remember past sacrifices and to pay our respects to all those men and women who have faced the biggest test of man’s humanity and in passing it enriched us all.

And what of the question posed at the beginning of this book? How would each of us respond to that test, the hardest choice anyone will ever have to make? It is still an extraordinarily difficult question and despite our better understanding of what makes a hero tick it is still impossible to predict.

Many of the heroes in this book themselves could not put their finger on exactly what helped them take that step over the edge. It was a destiny lying dormant in their genes but brought to life by the sum total of their own unique experience as human beings.

As Carl Sandburg, the American writer and poet, once said, ‘Valour is a gift. Those having it will never know for sure whether they have it till the test comes.’ All that we can hope for is that the gift lives on in many of us and we never lose the capacity to give it.