“When we have a superabundance of information and a failure of trusted institutions, any effort to make sense of a situation, to connect the dots, will seem (and perhaps feel) not unlike conspiracy theorizing. The materials are there in the massive digital archives we all dip into constantly. The urge to make sense of things is more or less a given. All we need is a provocation, say the assertion that a baseball player was wearing a hidden buzzer to signal the pitcher’s next pitch. Within minutes, we’ve all got our dark-rimmed-Kevin-Costner-in-JFK glasses on.”
I’ve had that paragraph, and this one bouncing around my head lately:
“[It is not that we are] living in a post-truth society, it is that we are living in a post-trust society. Trust has always been a critical component of our apprehension of the truth. The question was not whether trust was required of us, the question was whether enough of us could hold our trust in common, that is trust common sources of knowledge and truth. In the age of mass media and of the expert, our institutions commanded widespread trust. Today, that is hardly the case. Trust has been splintered, and society with it. We are too aware of the failure of institutions and we’ve been disabused of the notion that they might arrive at some disinterested, neutral account of things as the basis for collective action.”
Those both come from the newsletter recently started by L.M. Sacasas, The Convivial Society. The latter paragraph comes from his most recent issue, and the former is the reference he makes in the opening.
The novel coronavirus is officially settling into the Northern Virginia area, with the first reported cases trickling in over the last few days. I’ve suspected it has been in the area for longer than that, but due to the lack of testing, it’s impossible to know when and where.
I keep on thinking about John Carpenter’s THE THING and how I should finally watch it if I end up on quarantine. Someone argued in the early days of the outbreak, as we were just watching it unfold over there in China how most people don’t really respond to significant threats with panic, but what is more likely to happen is that the people as a community come together in support of one another, invoking the “togetherness” following 9-11 and the bonds formed during the Blitz on London. The Blitz, in particular, seemed a rather poor analogy to be making. There was a vast threat facing London, but its character was entirely different. Safety and camaraderie was found huddling together in close quarters in air raid shelters and tube lines, which is less advisable in a viral pandemic. More importantly, the threat there was always external. There was no bomb the Germans could drop that would turn you into a Nazi. With the coronavirus, you become victim and, while contagious, silent, unwitting enemy. At work, the co-worker with the office next to mine has just returned from France, which is by most calculations about 10 days behind Italy on the curve. He doesn’t and I don’t suspect that he has the virus, but I don’t suspect him not to, either. Maybe we’ll find out in the next fourteen days.
We tell ourselves that no one knows which way this thing is going to go. I think that is in part because it provides us the slightest bit of reassurance, it leaves the door open to a milder possibility. But then we look at the growth in China and in Italy, and it’s hard to reasonably see the outcomes here not being similar. We realize that when we say “we don’t know which way this is going to go,” the uncertainty is that we don’t know how it will affect us personally.
I do not believe that the virus will be restrained in America. I don’t think the sort of community sacrifice that significant social distancing, the only thing that seems to be useful to slow the spread, requires is in our ethos. I think too many will continue to work while sick for want or need of the money. I think too many will choose to risk it because they don’t get sick or don’t want to believe the hype (see the paragraph on post-trust society).
I wonder sometimes how much of the advice of “wash your hands” and “don’t touch your face” and “stop licking other people” is reasonable preventative measure and how much is meant to be calming reassurance, a modern day version of “Keep Calm and Carry On,” (indeed, there are plenty of Keep Calm and Wash Your Hands posters online). This is not to say I doubt the efficacy of handwashing, but it does seem like that represents the point when the horde have already broken through the castle walls in the first place.
I am grateful that the disease seems to spare children. I’d probably be a paranoid wreck if it didn’t. For myself and my wife, we are probably still in the “okay” range of the curve. Even then, it’s not entirely smooth sailing. Reports seem to indicate that hospitalized cases, which are somewhere between 1-in-5 and 1-in-10 are slow to recover. There is talk that some that get it that are young and healthy are showing problems post-recovery. And then we have parents and grandparents that we think about.
I struggle to know myself what action to take, and when. I am convinced this will be bad. Much of the preaching that this is nothing to fear and it is no worse than the flu has me thinking about that first paragraph I quoted, about paranoia and conspiracy theories. I am not, insofar as I am aware, positive for the virus. The parent of a 3-year-old and a 10-month-old, there’s a pretty good chance at any given time I have a cough anyway (as I do now, but not the kind of cough associated with the virus). Every time I do cough, it sets off a series of internal checks. Not surprisingly, not much usually changes in five minutes. When do I stay home, to either avoid getting it or transmitting it myself? When do we keep the children home? Even if they are not vulnerable, they may still be a vector from one person to another.
There is a lot of uncertainty ahead of us, and we will find out what happens in the coming weeks. I have nothing else to do but pray. I pray for the safety of my family, and of my church, and of my friends. I pray for those that are sick and infected. For those that are vulnerable and will need assistance. For those with other ailments that may get crowded out, or see their injury increase as a side effect of this all. For those that are working tirelessly to provide care, for those that will get sick and die while doing so. I pray for our leaders, that they could discern the right and have the wisdom and courage to act on it. For our communities that we would not be overwhelmed.
This too shall pass. But it is, for the time, our storm to weather.