Thoughts From A Social Distance

Things are beginning to get real. Or is surreal the better word? I’ve been reading a lot about the COVID-19 pandemic, and this morning, after a fitful night, I decided to take my response to another level. Despite my reluctance to disappoint people, I began by cancelling a few commitments, withdrawing rather than adding to the potential web of infection, and perhaps indirectly slowing down the spiraling demands on the health care infrastructure. I guess they call this “social distancing”, and it was at least a tangible step. Then I baked a very lemony lemon cake.

“Do what you think you have to do,” said someone I respect who had been counting on me for a meeting in town, but it was clear that she thought I was overreacting. “We are very unlikely to encounter this in our little coffee shop foray,” she mused, or something along these lines.

But I think it takes a bit of hubris to assume we are unlikely to encounter it. When I look at the far-reaching chain of contacts even in my own life, its span and breadth and twists amaze me. Every action I take has a domino effect, and I don’t even know where my influence ends, which is part of the wonder and majesty of modern life. We always knew we were interconnected, but now we really see it––undeniably, unequivocally, stunningly.

Nevertheless, I was feeling embarrassed. Perhaps I had overreacted. I asked the advice of a friend who is married to an emergency room physician. She texted: “With COVID, as with the flu, there are two potential roles. You may be personally affected/infected, or you may be a vector/transmitter. How would you feel if you unknowingly brought it home to your 94-year-old mother-in-law? Is that risk worth what you have to give up in the short term? Nope. But your actions, and those of all of us, simply by showing restraint, staying home, and laying low for a while, have the ability to slow this thing down. I’m actually excited to see the global power of people taking control through educated choices.”

The global power of people. I like viewing it that way. A collective, communal approach, rather than rugged individualism, that leathery old myth. I think cooperative thinking has been on the decline in our society, and we are certainly the worse for it. Shared responsibility. Depriving and inconveniencing oneself for the greater good. That sort of thing. It just feels like the right thing to do. (Doesn’t it? That’s a serious question.)

There were murmurs about this virus months ago. People far more perceptive than me anticipated that this was going to be the big story. But China seemed so far away. Then Italy, especially dear to my heart, was hit, and I’ve had a firsthand text correspondence with my cousin there. She is a teacher, doing online lessons with her students, and she has described the lockdown measures, saying, “It is terrible, but we are confident for a near resolution of this nightmare. I pray for the whole world.” The other day she sent me a very touching video of deserted streets of Naples, with residents singing from their windows and balconies. It is a scene repeated in places all over Italy. The spirit soars. And meanwhile, the lockdown is beginning to work; there is evidence it is starting to flatten the curve of infection. Delay and denial will work against us.

So there’s a great deal to learn, but we are capable of learning, from credible public health experts, from scientists, and from the experience of Italy and other countries. As foreign policy fellow Federica Saini Fasanotti wrote: The U.S. government failed in sending experienced virologists and American medical specialists to Italy (and also to China). They could have not only helped foreign colleagues, but also observed how such countries are facing this unprecedented public health emergency with structures that have not been designed for this type of epidemic. Criticizing foreign communities does not solve the pandemic — assistance does. Global collaboration in these cases can really make the difference. China, for example, is sending Italy face masks, disposable gloves, and protective suits. We will never forget this gesture. The Trump administration should share every decision with the population — if Italy’s case is any guide, the public will likely prove extremely collaborative. The president must not try to minimize the importance of science, nor the aggressive nature of the virus. Similarly, the administration should not attempt to censor any news, even the most alarming, and let specialists handle the matter publicly. At the end of the day, this challenge can be overcome if treated with the right procedures. The coronavirus is not only a curse: It is also an extraordinary chance to improve our facilities and health care infrastructure — and above all, to learn and be more ready for the next emergency.

Collaboration. Transparency. Sharing information. Providing assistance. Acknowledging science. Respecting knowledge. What we need as nations is exactly what we need as neighborhoods, and what we have needed for a long time.

And so we are pulling back in order to move forward at a more manageable pace. It’s a crash course in decency, civics, kindness, restraint, imagination, and cooperation. We stand back and see how much better we can be, and how interconnected we are.

We will learn more about the spread of this virus and even the flu. We’ll redirect resources to health care rather than tearing things down. It isn’t stupid or panicky or self-indulgent to self-isolate right now, and your illusions about your own immunity have nothing to do with it. This is something we do for others, for each other. According to immunologist Anthony Fauci of the National Institutes of Health, and Allergy & Infectious Diseases, a man who has chosen to speak honestly: Americans “should be prepared that they’re going to have to hunker down significantly more than we as a country are doing” to fight the COVID-19 outbreak. "If you let the curve get up there, then the entire society is going to be hit.”

My friend who is married to the ER physician, clarifies that the reason to avoid exposure now is to keep the bell curve flat and long. The goal is developed immunity over time through exposure, because exposure is inevitable, but hopefully we can slow the pace.

I thought this Tweet from Brian Schatz said it well: “Social distancing is not about being scared or a germaphobe or a wimp or panicky. It is about not getting vulnerable people killed. You are not tough or brave or savvy or cool by ignoring best practices. You are just making this thing worse.”

We must behave as if we are interconnected, because we are. Why put others at risk unnecessarily? This could be a rare opportunity to come up with creative ways of helping each other. It’s a time for writing, making art, inventing, repairing, communicating heart to heart across the miles. Those of us who are lucky enough to be okay on our islands should be grateful and kind and try somehow to be of service–that’s my challenge to myself. Maybe it’s a different way of being brave. (Yeah, right: stay at home and stream Netflix. Tell that to someone who has really been tested.)

But it turns out –just as we always suspected!– truth matters. Leadership and courage matter. Knowledge, education, and expertise matter. And kindness, in all of its disguises.

Anyway, that’s my attempt at sorting this out.

And now for some lemon cake.

______

P.S. This poem from Reverend Lynn Ungar of the Unitarian Universalist Church expresses it beautifully:

“PANDEMIC

What if you thought of it

as the Jews consider the Sabbath—

the most sacred of times?

Cease from travel.

Cease from buying and selling.

Give up, just for now,

on trying to make the world

different than it is.

Sing. Pray. Touch only those

to whom you commit your life.

Center down.



And when your body has become still,

reach out with your heart.

Know that we are connected

in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.

(You could hardly deny it now.)

Know that our lives

are in one another’s hands.

(Surely, that has come clear.)

Do not reach out your hands.

Reach out your heart.

Reach out your words.

Reach out all the tendrils

of compassion that move, invisibly,

where we cannot touch.



Promise this world your love–

for better or for worse,

in sickness and in health,

so long as we all shall live.”