Humanity’s Hubris in its Response to COVID
With
The Covid-19 Inquiry underway, the commentariat have been given a source for
think pieces for years to come (given the length of time it will presumably
take to conclude). I suspect I am going to be part of that commentariat
producing thinking pieces about Covid 19, whilst we wait for the final report to
arrive. This is going to be a Waiting for
Godot type of experience, forever waiting for an end to come, and an ad
nauseam re-living in the past the past in a seemingly perpetual streaming of Groundhog Day.
My
concern with The Covid-19 Inquiry is that it will focus on what else needed to
be done, rather than on the things that were done that shouldn’t have been
done. There is, fortunately, a growing volume and number of voices who are
intensely critical of the whole lockdown response to the pandemic such as Laura
Dodsworth, Neil Oliver etc, and no longer a ridiculing them as “Covidiots”.
Whilst
I agree entirely with these voices, it is less clear which came first “Project
Fear”, or an emotional-led panic-fuelled fear. Covid was a tiny virus, and our
collective response – humanity’s response – was driven by emotion, not a
rational assessment of reality. This is the view, expressed in a short epilogue
in Head
First: A Psychiatrist's Stories of Mind and Body, by Santhouse. Even more astonishingly, Stanhouse says:
“the more authoritarian the politician’s instincts – the more they tried to
face down the virus rather actually engage with the science – the worse the
problems seemed to get.” Basically, a rational assessment of the situation,
following the science, meant confronting the unpredictable, uncontrollable,
random nature of the virus, and a recognition of our powerlessness to exert
control over it.
It was hubris, driven by emotional fragility, that cemented the
global response. Humanity had a sense of powerlessness and vulnerability. There
was a danger and this provoked fear, and this required action. Something Must
Be Done. This is humanity’s hubris – the inability to deal with luck, fate,
randomness. We seek to re-assert control. The idea of doing nothing, and
accepting a powerlessness to control an uncontrollable virus was simply
unthinkable.
Santhouse equates the maximal fear generated by Covid to the
maximal addictive quality of random enforcement gambling: “When it comes to the
possibility of a very bad outcome, [where] having little ability to predict or
control the outcome… it is the uncertainty that is most destructive… [and]
coronavirus was fickle, unpredictable, with just enough uncertainty in its
effects to maintain fear.” The randomness and uncertainty and powerlessness
drives a need to exert control, and to attempt to exercise a hubristic
manipulation that restores order.
The problem with humanity’s response to Covid – the “something
must be done” model – was that this came with consequences (really, really big
consequences). Trying to exert control over something random by doing something
can be a comforting placebo. If I wear my lucky socks when I go to the casino,
I feel better when that ball spin’s round the wheel, because those lucky socks….
If I’m faced with the apocalypse, I need to do something to make myself feel in
control and relieve a part of the fear, so I’ll stock up on toilet roll, so
that I won’t run out of that. If I see a Cheetah running toward me, I can’t
just stand there and do nothing – I have to act; I have to do something – so
I’ll start to run to try to feel I have some control. However, me running at my
full tilt of 5mph, even with a 20 metre head start, is pretty pointless when
the cheetah is running full tilt at 70mph.
In each of these cases, there is the fear-reducing placebo of
invoking the illusion of control. However, there is no nocebo effect i.e. the
doing something doesn’t make a bad situation worse. It just doesn’t have any
effect. The hubris of seeking to control Covid, however, was far more dangerous,
because the consequences of action – the doing something – will be with us for
a very long time to come.
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