Monday, March 16, 2020

A Plague On All Our Houses




A comparison of the coronavirus, or Covid-19, with the great plagues of the past is probably premature.  Millions must die first if it is to rival the destruction caused by its infamous predecessors.  It's apparently closest in kind and time to the influenza which wrecked havoc after the First World War, but it simply hasn't proved as devastating, yet.  Do we overreact, or are we only waiting for the worst, which is still to come?

It's hard to say, given the reaction, which is rapidly reaching the point of hysteria.  Unless you count yourself among the dull and self-involved, who think there is no crisis until they feel threatened, you can't help but be impressed by the measures being taken, which as far as I know cannot be compared with anything we've seen for a very long time.  But it's human nature to wonder if what we hear of the symptoms of this virus renders the reaction to it exaggerated (it's in the nature of this human, in any case)  And yet, there are those who've died of it.

At this stage, however, it strikes me that what is most interesting and fearful regarding the virus is the reaction to it.  I choose "fearful" because it seems that fear is very much a part of its significance.  I don't say along with the Oaf that things are under control and there is nothing to worry about.  Why anyone would believe him is a mystery, on this or any other subject.  Only he and others like him would think that stopping people from entering into the country will prevent a virus already among us from spreading or taking hold.  But the hoarding taking place, and the opportunism, and the isolation we impose on ourselves or which government imposes on us is a concern to any thinking person.

Now perhaps we no longer think, not really, as I've thought and said and written more than once.  We merely react in the quickest and most hyperbolic way possible--at least to the extent we can by limiting ourselves to what we can tweet or spit out quickly by means of social media.  That may be so, and may be explanation enough for our conduct.  But can it be that we're so anxious to be alive  that we react in such a manner at even the smallest chance that we may die as to, in effect, stop living as the social animals we are, and huddle in our homes and huts until the Angel of Death has passed us by?

I've wondered before in this blog and elsewhere whether we've become more fearful of death than we were in antiquity, and whether the cause for our timidness in the face of nature's power over us might have its basis in Christian doctrine, which dwells so lovingly on the eternal horror that awaits most of us on death, and is so inclined to see as being the cause of every disaster our sinfulness and the wrath of an offended God.  As far as we can tell, this kind of longing for eternal, blissful life, and fear of eternal, horrific punishment wasn't much present in the ancient pagans of the West, at least until Christianity along with the various mystery cults began to take hold.  Life after death was dull and dreary to the ancient Greeks and Romans, compared with life on earth, but nothing which would cause one to cling desperately to life.

And certainly one can infer that fear will spread with far greater ease now than it did in the past.  Just as ignorance and falsehood do, thanks to our technology.

The Pope walks the streets of Rome, praying for our salvation.  Perhaps we should beat ourselves and wear sackcloth and ashes, wailing.  It would be just like the old days, and at least as effective now as it was then, until it passes or our capacity for intelligence, or that of some among us, does through science what we hope to do by petitioning God to save us from...what, exactly?






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