the bystander effect

and that drunken guy suddenly became a new kitty genovese, (hopefully) without the rape and the backstabs. his ordeal has most likely ended with a flu and his back hurting for sleeping in the street. besides the hang over and the robbery, of course. it's funny - and sad - to think about it. there were dozens of people out in the street, chatting to each other, sharing drinks and joints. more were passing up and down, looking for a way out or just for the next beer before the early end of the night. the owner of the house in which doorstep the guy was laying arrived, opened the door, got in and closed the door. he was probably the only soul who cared about the guy though, considering how carefully he closed the door, trying not to hit the other's head. no one else cared - and everyone saw him half-alive, half-dead, completely wasted on the floor. no one cared to check if he needed help, to call the cops or the emergency teams. the only one who has shown any interested in him was a rotten scumbag who took the opportunity to search for the guy's wallet and cellphone - not to see his identification or to call some friend, but to steal them. everyone saw it - the scumbag searching the other's pockets and keeping the items - and no one stopped it. there was more than enough people to tear the fucking thief apart, or at least to knock him down, and no one did a damned thing. bystander effect, they would say. diffusion of responsability. "it's not with me", each one of the souls on that street thought. "sooner or later someone's gonna help". perhaps someone did. perhaps no one did it. who knows? no one, for no one cared.