Ethics in times of Crisis
The Covid-19 pandemic has so far impacted every aspect of modern life. The economic, social, political and moral structures that we interact with and that guide us in day to day life are all being disrupted in these extraordinary times. In times of crisis, we are thrown into a situation that has catastrophic impacts but these situations also reveal to us things about ourselves that might ordinarily be operating just below the surface of awareness.
As we are faced with this evolving state of emergency and brace ourselves for impact, many people are noticing heightened feelings of anxiety and dread. Right now, the normal or accepted ways of doing things have been upended and we are left scrambling to adapt to life under increasing restrictions. The rate at which we are shifting our lives can feel dizzying. We are being forced to make decisions on the fly, in response to new public health information everyday, and we are suddenly finding that we have to manage far in our day to day lives than feels optimal. We are having to re-imagine how we work, socialize, parent, teach and consume.
In my (now virtual) therapy sessions, the common thread in conversations relates to the layers of uncertainty and angst this situation stirs up. At the front of peoples’ minds are questions about how they will cope and concerns which stem from fears about security. Questions like: how will the virus affect my health, will I keep my job, what will health care cover, who will teach my children, what information should I listen to and will there be enough food at my supermarket? There are endless practical considerations, and these seem to flow seamlessly into deeper existential or moral questions: will I survive this, how do I find belonging amidst social distancing, what does this mean for my future, what am I willing to give up for the benefit of others, how do I get my needs met while trying to do no harm, what exactly justifies costs to my personal freedom?
At some stage in dialogue, the explorations of personal and collective angst coalesce around a broader conversation about what we see and imagine humans are capable of when faced with a shared external threat. We toggle back and forth between a fear and fascination with what this very layered phenomenon exposes. To be sure, there are catastrophic consequences of this pandemic and it’s important to acknowledge it’s far reaching implications. But the pandemic is also illuminating, revealing to us aspects of human nature and relatedness that you might only see in times of stress. As we are shifting how we operate in domains of school, family life and work, it might also be a good time to reflect more about the ways we operate as human beings in relation to each other.
In times of crisis, it is as though we get to peel away the layers of learned behaviors; how we act, think and feel in ways that are shaped by social desirability and conditioning fall away a little, and we see moments or glimpses of different parts of our internal worlds pushing forth. By now most have heard about the trend of “panic buying” where people are stocking up or buying unusually large amounts of supplies in anticipation of a crisis. This behavior appears to be driven by a need to take care of oneself or one’s family and a fear that “there will not be enough for me”. The consequence of overstocking is that this leaves others will very little. Because people are very suddenly buying more than they need in the short term, some supermarket chains are having to enforce new measures to ensure fair distribution.
Fear can drive such self interested behavior, but it can also drive inter-dependence and cooperation because we know we need each other to survive. Amidst the stories of hoarding, fighting over supplies, the rise in prejudiced attitudes towards people from certain nationalities since. the outbreak began, we are hearing about initiatives and novel solutions to problems that affect our more vulnerable communities. I’ve lost count of the number of organizations and events that are now generating different kinds of support (shelter, food, health and financial resources) for those who need it.
Human tendencies towards cooperation and competition are always there below the surface. Appealing to the more aggressive, threatened, competitive parts that exist within human nature, populist leaders, for example, stir up divisions between us. They create in the collective imagination a reality in which the difficulties we face stem from targeted out-groups who pose threats to our very existence. Simultaneously, they connect people around the exclusion and hate of a common enemy and feed the idea that it is “every man for himself”. Such rhetoric can also be fueled by a perception of scarcity, if there aren’t enough resources to go around we must defend what we have and we can’t afford to be generous. Other leaders and public figures may appeal to the human wish and drive for solidarity and unity, using language that reminds us that we all bear a collective responsibility for the way our civilization advances or declines.
Whether we turn away from or toward Others, we do so because we believe it will help us survive and cope. The movement towards (with kindness and care) is, of course, what we should all strive for. We move towards others not because there’s something in it for us, but because humans relatedness demands mutual responsibility — even if we aren’t always mindful of it. We cannot escape the suffering of others, and the call for help, no matter how many walls people try to build. Ethics philosopher Emmanuel Levinas draws from a Talmudic story in which Abraham would leave the sides of his tent open day and night, feeding his guests without first asking who they were. This spirit of generosity and hospitality to others is starkly contrasted with images of people fighting over supplies, or leaders sowing divisions and fomenting prejudices amongst us.
The Covid-19 pandemic will effect everyone, albeit in various ways and to varying degrees. There is a real opportunity here for us to stand in solidarity with each other as we contemplate some of these difficult questions about how feed ourselves and each other, how to connect, how to access health and education and how to make sure resources are distributed now and beyond the pandemic. There will be some shortages, but as we know from historical and present day examples, people do know how to step up to help both loved ones and strangers who are in critical need. There are other resources that (despite fears and perceptions) are not in short supply, which gives us pause to reflect on just how much an individual really “needs” and what they are able to give up for the common good.
This requires a perspective shift, an ethical turn from “me first” to prioritizing the needs of the Other. We see this response from our health care workers who — in caring for the ill — put their health and safety on the line. We see this in people volunteering and donating, behaviors which may afford no personal benefit but are done in service of helping others who are most at risk. At this moment in time, ethical action comes from a sense of responsibility to our fellow humans and a fundamental valuing of all human lives. But this ethical turn could transcend any single crisis because humans are built for connection with others, we just need to take care to expand our understanding of “others” to include those who are most in need and those beyond our immediate field of vision.
