Interdependent

I’m looking for beauty. For grace. Dignity. Humility. These essential ingredients of cohesive human existence seem to be slipping away from us. Scattered by fear. Temporarily, I pray.

There seems no immediate escape from this vortex, however. Certainly not in the news that is necessarily a combination of the grim record keeping that measures the daily toll of the virus, peppered with the plight of the famous or quasi-famous coping or otherwise, along with a generous helping of heroism and courage of the folks on the front lines who are making dramatic personal sacrifices.

To be clear, this is what the news ought to be doing—along with providing scientific, historical, global, generational context in order to make sense of the fire hose of information we seek in this fearful moment. The news media, generally speaking, is delivering—at least, in terms of quantity.

The most welcome item in my inbox this morning, though, was a photo of a clump of crocuses. Barry Norton regularly graces these pages with his images of Wellington and its environs typically captured in the wee hours of the day. He sends a pic or two nearly every morning by email to a growing audience of appreciative fans.

There is something wonderful about the delicacy, the newness, the fragility and purity of Barry’s crocuses. Something about the lightness of the composition, or the promise of spring that caused me to linger with it longer than my deadline allowed. Perhaps it was just procrastination. More likely a few stolen moments in order to make the torrent of bleak information I will consume today a bit more manageable.

In Bill Bryson’s latest book, The Body, he explains that the subtle colours, tones and texture of these crocuses are more a function of the way light reflects from its petals, coded and communicated to our brains, rather than exist in the plant. Mostly an illusion that disappears when the light goes away.

Fear, though, is suppressing the light in the days of COVID-19.

New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote late last week about the humour and grace among those forced to shelter from the waves of bombers overhead each night during the Blitz of London in the fall of 1940. He was lamenting the lack of such grace among his fellow residents as the overwhelmingly grim reality took hold in American consciousness last week.

Of course, those hunkered down in shelters in 1940 knew who the enemy was. They understood that the cause of their misery lived across the Channel. They had a well-formulated image of the other.

The other in the age of COVID-19 is not China. Neither is it invisible. It isn’t even the burr-like virus. It is us. The other is our neighbours. Friends. Colleagues.

So we stay home. We remain six feet apart. We give each other a wide berth on an otherwise deserted Millennium Trail. We are peeved when others don’t show the same restraint. Door handles have become the medium of the thoughtless and inconsiderate.

We will take these steps—and perhaps more stringent measures—for a time. And please do not misinterpret my words as anything other than full-throated support for striving to slow down the rate of infection so as to enable our healthcare folks to treat those most at risk.

But social cohesion is a delicate fabric to maintain, vulnerable to fraying and tearing over time. The speed and depth of rending will be exacerbated by stern reactionary measures—inspired by fear—that vary beyond where the herd is willing to go.

Some serious folks are now urging the army to be mobilized to ensure proper social distancing. Troops patrolling our streets and parks to ensure folks don’t congregate in packs of more than two. Closer to home, the Hastings Prince Edward Public Health Unit’s COVID-19 webpage is currently offering advice on how you can report your neighbour, whom you suspect isn’t following the rules. Anecdotal stories abound in our community that some folks (or one person) returning from Florida who may not be observing the quarantine. Snowbirds have become the enemy. The other.

There is an argument for more persistent communication and perhaps better targetting. We need be, however, a bit cautious of the social cohesion tools with which we arm state officials in order to enforce obedience. As economist Milton Freidman observed, “nothing is as permanent as a temporary government program”.

So I propose we strain to look past the bleak news that will flow over us this week. Let us steer toward humility and acknowledge that our insight and power as a species is finite—and prone to missteps and overreach. Let us remember we are dependent upon one another. Especially our neighbours. By all means let us act prudently, according to the best evidence at hand. But let us refrain from acting primarily out of fear.

Beauty and grace remain all around us. We need but look.

rick@wellingtontimes.ca

Readers interested in receiving Barry Norton’s daily photo offering may reach him at barrynorton.norton1@icloud.com