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life politics religion & atheism

The Evil One(s) Behind COVID-19

In her classic work, Evil in Modern Thought: An Alternative History of Philosophy, Susan Neiman shows how people who lived during the Lisbon Earthquake of 1755, which struck on All Saint’s Day and did particular damage to Lisbon’s many churches, considered the natural disaster to be a true manifestation of evil. Nowadays, we tend to equate evil with human cruelty and earthquakes with plate tectonics, but there are still vestiges of this 18th century way of thinking among us.

We see it in the lessons of the Presidential Cabinet’s Bible study leader who believes the COVID-19 pandemic is a divine punishment for America’s sins of godlessness, environmentalism, homosexuality, and depravity. But we also see it in the widespread urge to scapegoat Asian-Americans for what the President of the United States has repeatedly called “the Chinese Flu,” as well as the spread of conspiracy theories that hold half-a-dozen people or groups accountable for the pandemic, from the financier George Soros to the Democratic Party to 5G technology to the Chinese government to Bill Gates to the Rothschild family.

This need to find a “guilty” party is as old as the species itself, finding its origin in our species’ proclivity to see agency behind every natural phenomena. In his book, The Natural History of Religion, the philosopher David Hume wrote, “We find human faces in the moon, armies in the clouds; and by a natural propensity, if not corrected by experience and reflection, ascribe malice and good-will to every thing, that hurts or pleases us.”

Evolutionarily speaking, this instinctual urge to imagine what caused certain phenomena has benefitted us. It allows us to detect the difference between the wind’s rustling of the grass and a predator’s stealthy movement through the plains, but even more, it allows us to see elements of the natural world as being in possession of agency — or as Daniel Dennett, the co-director of the Center for Cognitive Studies at Tufts University, puts it in his book Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon, we adopt the intentional stance when it comes to describing and predicting the behavior of others.

The intentional stance is the ability to treat animate objects in the world as being “agents with limited beliefs, specific desires, and enough common sense to do the rational thing given those beliefs and desires.” Some theorists call this the “theory of mind” — i.e., the belief that other creatures (including other humans) have a mind, which allows us to then imagine what that mind might believe about the world and what it might want, which in turn allows us to manipulate the other’s mind towards our own ends. Lying is an example of this: we imagine that the other person’s mind has a certain belief about the world, a belief we don’t want them to have for whatever reason, and so we give them false information to manipulate their belief and accomplish our own goal; but so is our relationships with our dogs: we imagine our dogs have minds that love us and are loyal to us, and so we act as if that is true.

Humans are not the only animals who adopt the intentional stance — some mother birds will pretend to have a broken wing in order to distract a predator from attacking the fledgelings in her nest; other creatures use fantastic displays to convince potential partners of their fitness and health, regardless of their actual fitness and health; dogs and monkeys will bluff others to get access to a preferred toy; etc. — but humans are the undeniable masters of it.

The entire social fabric of us naked apes comes from our expert ability to adopt the intentional stance. “We experience the world,” Dennett writes, “as not just full of moving human bodies but of rememberers and forgetters, thinkers and hopers and villains and dupes and promise-breakers and threateners and allies and enemies.”

He continues, “So powerful is our innate urge to adopt the intentional stance that we have real difficulty turning it off when it is no longer appropriate.” Dennett and other researchers postulate that the religious impulse of human beings has its origins in this urge: “Much as our ancestors would have loved to predict the weather by figuring out what it wanted and what beliefs it harbored about them, it simply didn’t work.”

As the COVID-19 virus winds its way through the human species, our urge to provide it with an intentional stance remains — except now that we’re guided by an understanding of viruses as “teetering on the boundaries of what is considered life”, we’re far too sophisticated to give COVID-19 an intentional stance, thus we channel our urge towards the creation of conspiracy theories that allow us to establish some kind of power and control over what is, quite naturally, an uncontrollable situation.

The historical post mortem of the COVID-19 pandemic will surely find fault in the behaviors, decisions, and indecisions of hundreds of government officials all throughout the world, not to mention the willful ignorance of tens of thousands of ordinary citizens and the malicious intentions of dozens of self-serving capitalists and authoritarians, but it will not be able to name a single agent or group of agents as the primary cause of COVID-19, for indeed, its cause is not some evil one who wishes to do us harm, but evolution itself — the mindless, intention-less process by which the living and “the teetering on living” reproduce and survive.

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life

Where I’m At With COVID-19

My daughter’s school closed last week, as did mine, as did my wife’s (three different schools; three different closures). My wife and I continue to teach online, working through Google’s G Suite for Education and Zoom. My daughter, a first grader, completes some of her assignments online, communicating with her teacher through SeeSaw, using a variety of online games to work on math and reading, doing yoga with Cosmic Kids on YouTube, and engaging in plenty of independent learning activities, such as drawing, reading, and building with LEGOs. In addition, my wife and I take time away from our students to help our daughter with science, music, gym, etc. (yesterday afternoon, for example, I helped her begin a personal learning project wherein she will, through the development of a coherent slideshow and accompanied presentation, persuade her mother to let us get a puppy — but I digress).

On the second or third day of our schools being closed, my daughter’s schedule called for social studies. I’d received an email that morning from PBS promoting a two-year-old episode of American Experience titled Influenza 1918, which focuses on the 1918 flu pandemic. I asked my daughter if she was interested in watching it for her social studies class. She said, “Yes,” and we sat down and watched it together.

There’s a lot to digest in the documentary. Caused by an H1N1 virus, the pandemic killed over 50 million people worldwide. In one month in 1918 — the month of October — over 195,000 Americans died from the virus (for comparison’s sake, the total number of American military deaths in all of World War I is 116,516). Towns throughout America were forced to bury their dead in mass graves. Children watched their parents die; parents watched their children die. Cousins were lost to orphanages; families and dreams disintegrated.

As I hear the governor of my state declare a “Stay Home, Stay Safe” order, I think back to the Influenza 1918 documentary, and I remember the way I had to describe to my daughter what a mass burial was, and I see my wife in the other room giving me a look like, “What the hell are you showing our seven-year-old daughter?”, but then I think of my daughter, later in the week, days after we watched it, standing in the door of our bathroom, telling me how lucky we are because we don’t live in 1918.

I also think about the day this week when she and I went out for a walk and we came across two of her best friends playing together and I had to tell her that no, she couldn’t go play with them, and how she listened to me, but how she also put her head down and walked home in silence, and how as soon as we entered the house, she ran up to her room in tears, not even stopping to take off her coat, and how I followed her upstairs to comfort her, and how she collapsed on her bed with her face in her pillow and her knees pulled up tight, and how she didn’t even argue with me about it or scream at me to “go away!”, but instead how she told me she “gets it,” she knows why she can’t play with her friends, but how it still makes her sad and she just needs to cry, and how I walked back downstairs to the sound of her wailing into her pillow, and how later, when she got quiet, I was able to go back upstairs and help her take off her coat, and how, after a good cry, she was ready to go on with her day.

I think about my seventy-two year old parents, one of whom is immunocompromised. I think about my father needing to keep himself busy, and venturing out to a hardware store for some item that will help him do just that, but I also think about all the other people in his hometown who have to keep themselves busy and who also need to go to the hardware store to get an item to do just that, and I imagine all of the people they’ve interacted with and been breathed on by, and like a terrifying movie, I watch the virus move from person to person until it touches my father’s hand, which soon touches my mother’s hand, and soon…

I think about my mother just wanting to spend time with her grandchildren, and their governor’s shelter in place order.

I think about my students, teenagers who have already experienced so much trauma, now being forced to stay inside with their families, some of whom contributed to that trauma. I think about my students’ parents, many of whom are single mothers, now robbed of even unsteady employment, and the number of mouths they need to feed.

I think about my coworkers who are home alone, my cousins and uncles and aunts, my in-laws, my friends across the country, and the loneliness, pain, and anxiety that so many of us are feeling.

But then I think about those mass graves, and with my seven-year-old daughter, I feel thankful to be alive.