We All Should Be Afraid of the Coronavirus Pandemic…..Though Not for the Reason You Think
In a time where words like “Pandemic” and “Global Crisis” are everywhere in media and daily discourse, many of us undoubtedly feel anxiety and tension hitting us in waves. We are confronted with great uncertainty. Society faces a spreading contagion for which we have no immediate solution and no real idea of when one might emerge. This uncertainty lends itself to fear. Why wouldn’t it? Fear is a natural response often based on logic. Fear identifies things capable of harming us or those that we love, and it makes us averse to them. It makes us even warier if we don’t have a full understanding of the frightening thing or how to subdue it.
Now, some may assert that we ought not to be afraid. You should be afraid though — not of the virus or even of dying. After all, death is a certainty. Your entire temporal life might properly be viewed as an exercise in preparing to die well. Why fear death? It has always been guaranteed that you would die. It is not guaranteed that you will live in any meaningful manner. Thus, what you should behold in your mind’s eye with fear and trembling is what you might become in this time of uncertainty. The fear of death, of sickness, of discomfort, of scarcity…. ultimately, this fear of powerlessness in the face of an uncertain future dominates us. And it will degrade us.
As uncertainty-induced fear takes hold of me, my ability to make choices and act within a broader context significantly diminishes. My concern and focus are reduced exclusively to the provision of material needs, specifically, the provision of MY material needs. For in a crisis, I am, perhaps, both the most and least self-aware that I ever am. I am the most aware of my vulnerability. I am aware that I inhabit a body that might be infiltrated by disease or that might suffer deprivation of commodities that I have grown accustomed to. I’m aware that I must protect my body from that danger by establishing safeguards, food and supply stashes, and other contingencies to preserve my most precious possession — my body. Yet, simultaneously, I am blind to the fact that as I desperately seek to protect myself and my loved ones, I am inculcating within myself a mentality that places my preservation, the extension of my temporal existence, over all else. The safety of my body and my comfort have become my framework. I begin to answer questions and make calculations based exclusively on whether I have acquired enough to sustain my body and whether the measures I have implemented will keep it safe. The protection of my body and my family unit becomes the reference point and extent of my thinking. I have lost all interest in broader collaboration or connection. Preservation predominates my action.
Hear me when I say that I am not attacking prudence or responsible public health measures. I’m inquiring what mentality underpins the actions that we are taking? Are we acting out of terror at confronting uncertainty and scrabbling to grab hold of whatever might allow us to feel that we will be alright? What if this preservation mindset comes at a cost? What if the short-term safeguards I establish to protect my life have long-term effects on the quality of life that I live?
As I compete with my neighbor for resources, I can begin to act as if my life is not bound to theirs. Rather than seeing my neighbors as people with whom I can collaborate, trade, create, and share, I increasingly see them as threats or impediments to the assurance of my comfort, health, and survival. During a crisis when strong bonds and social trust are critical to survival, unfortunately, these appear to be the first goods that many of us are willing to forfeit. Life, however, appears only to realize meaning to the degree that it is integrated into other lives. Look at the fact that a lack of healthy relationships or social connectivity is identified as a causal factor in a myriad of mental illnesses. The “me vs. the world” mentality that we all so easily fall into in a crisis severs human connection in ways that may not be rebuilt in the aftermath. The thing that we all ought to fear is that an increased “social distance” might be with us long after the global pandemic has become a thing of history.
The effects of isolation, loneliness, nihilism, and social insecurity already pervade society. Will we emerge from this moment even further apart? That depends on whether we take the appropriate actions to maintain and facilitate connection and codependence even as we prepare and take precautionary measures. Find ways to engage and care for your community right now. Share with someone who can not afford to stockpile a month's worth of food and supplies. Call that elderly neighbor or friend and check on them. Check on that single parent you know that is trying to make ends meet and now is figuring out how to go to work with a kid at home all day. Smile and thank your cashier for coming in and working non-stop even though this is her second job, and she’s considered part of a high-risk demographic for the virus. Find ways to support and encourage those who are making society move amidst a crisis, and that isn’t just the scientists and healthcare professionals. It is also the grocers, the delivery people, the food service workers, the big-box warehouse workers, the babysitters, and all others who serve in ways that we too often might deem as “non-essential.” Recognize the humanity of your neighbor, then go beyond recognition and engage it. Because a meaningful life is not one that I preserve as long as possible. If life is to have any meaning it must be lived in connection to a broader community, and if we are willing to prioritize personal preservation over communal connection, then, yes, we all ought to be afraid of what comes next.
