Are We Intellectualizing the Pandemic?
Weekend is walk time. On Saturday mornings, I amble over to my “pod” friend’s downtown apartment where I playful tussle his mischievous, high-energy husky, then head out on a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood. As we walk, details of the week unravel — who said what at work, the latest date gossip, musings about travel.
Lately, however, it’s become a forum for cerebral banter about COVID-19. Following a cursory overview of the week’s events, we dive headlong into analysis of America’s response to the Coronavirus. It’s stirring; it’s heated. At times, it’s disgustingly nitpicky.
“What did you think of what Fauci said about the recent variants?”
“States should not be left to decide vaccine dissemination for themselves. This is a national emergency.”
“Can you believe grocery store workers aren’t considered ‘frontline’?!”
I’m paraphrasing, but you get the gist. In the comfort of our respective lives, we have made discussion of COVID-19 an intellectual exercise.
Awareness of health guidelines and procedures is critical in a time like this, so I don’t fault us for being on the up and up. I do, however, frequently end our walks feeling a touch of shame. Did I just turn a monstrous virus that’s killed more than 500,000 Americans into an intellectual exercise?
Yes, I did. It’s a coping mechanism. And in an unprecedented era of angst and uncertainty, it’s hardly surprising that we’re all leaning on coping mechanisms.
There’s reason to feel good about it, too. Online, a flood of memes is giving us permission to just be lazy, or relax, or do nothing because, well, things are hard right now.
They are hard. But not for me — not really. And as I analyze my own reactions to the pandemic, I can’t help but think that the permission culture that’s grown over the last year has oxygenated unhealthy habits. Ones we might otherwise let wither and die.
My intellectualization of a virulent virus is, indeed, one of those habits. We glamorize intellectuals in our culture, lifting them up as the innovators who blaze new trails into the future. To some extent, this is true. But for me, it is often a way to feel good while doing nothing. I applaud myself for being informed and exercising critical thinking — all while avoiding the call to act.
I understand we are in survival mode, and in this state we cannot expect the best of humanity. Only on the other side can we resume our innovation and future-building.
But survivalism does not require inaction, nor does it mean our tendency to focus entirely on individual selves is wholly right or good. This is an understood constant in an otherwise variable-ridden equation. Our community is hurting, and many of us have resources that can help. So why aren’t we helping?
Partly, it is because we don’t know how. This is certainly true for me. Outside of donating money to vetted organizations, what can I do?
A lot, it turns out: Zoom support calls to isolated individuals, volunteering to help communities and groups set up streaming services to keep connection strong, notes to friends and family that let them know they are still top-of-mind.
These are not glamorous things. They are not sweeping, and they may not even be rewarded with thanks. But in a time when human connection is fraying, they are not small things, either. They can make the difference between corroded mental health and enough stability to work, live, and see this mess through to the other side.
Each one of us is trudging through pandemic mire, trying to figure out what is required of us. Yes, mask-wearing and social distancing are necessities; and yes, we should attend to our own well-being. But so much of what we now face requires that we see ourselves as part of a bigger, more complex community fabric. How will we — how will I — strengthen the fibers of our community as I enjoy relative peace, health, and comfort?
Maybe this will be the next topic of conversation on my Saturday morning walk.
