BRAVE NEW WORLD

Aldous Huxley wrote “Brave New World”, a futuristic novel about scientific progress and oppressive government run amok; it was 1931. Only one human, the novel’s protagonist could both resist and push back. Thus the title. Against all odds a single soul stood between a humanist culture and a dystopian, artificial intelligence based society. The whole thing makes me think of the television series, Star Trek. Patric Stewart was the protagonist, captured by the “Borg”, a bionic cross-breed race. The sole purpose of the Borg was to subdue and subjugate everyone, everywhere. In this new century 2020, futurist-historian Yuval Harari has been reading the same tea leaves with concerns about artificial intelligence replacing the brain’s ability to guide  human affairs. Incredible: along comes a microbe, an extremely contagious virus that upends everything. Even if it proves fatal for only a small segment of humanity, human constructs like economics, commerce, transportation, etc., they become inefficient and what’s worse, unprofitable. So I’ve made the bridge, from Huxley’s brave new world to another new world, the Covid-19 pandemic. 

In my brave new world, I would be the protagonist but I have no leverage against virulent biology, greedy economics or tribal governance. I’m just an old (expendable) human being. This pandemic is not the first but it’s been a long time since we experienced one and the human footprint has changed drastically since the Spanish Flu in 1918. 50 million fatalities in a world of less than 2 billion souls. Since 1918, global population density has roughly quadrupled and individual mobility around the planet is both rapid and easily facilitated. Nobody old enough to remember the flu pandemic first hand so Coronavirus might as well be a new paradigm. 

My journal, this blog; they have been a way for me to process and share ideas but in my brave new world, nothing relates to the user-friendly world that I was so accustomed to. At this point I’m going to start documenting my day to day feelings and concerns as they stray from one concern to another. Off the top, I am preoccupied with how divided and diverse we are with the way global risk and its fallout are experienced. For the moment, I am well and safe. For the moment, my retirement benefits shelter me from a raging economic storm. For the moment, my health is good. I have a safe, secure place to hunker down, isolated from people who carry the virus. But the ultimate truth is that the margin of error for me is zero. It goes without saying, as an octogenarian, the reality of one’s own mortality is never more than a thought removed. You can’t get this far and not see the dark behind the light at the end of the tunnel. But it’s like acrophobia, the fear of high places. How close to the boundary can you get without feeling uncomfortable? I have to admit, I can see over the edge. 

I went to virtual church this morning. We are Unitarians, a Humanist community where each member is responsible for the shape of their own particular belief system. Not many, if any traditional sons of Abraham worshiping there. But religion casts a big shadow. Like any community that ponders human origins, our purpose here on earth and how people should value not only our Mother Earth but also how we treat each other, it comes out religion. Our service is pretty sophisticated considering the makeshift technology. We have responsive readings where it feels like, sounds like we are all together in the same room. Singing has the same collective effect. Today we celebrated Earth Day. Together we sang “Blue Boat Home.” There are several powerful verses, all provocative but the chorus left me feeling like a Jehovah’s Witness at Pentecost, emotionally charged and totally humbled. It goes; I’ve been sailing all of my life now: Never harbor or port have I known: The wide universe is the Ocean I travel: And the Earth is my blue boat home.

Sundays have been pretty good while Mondays have not. I am slow to chart my way through this global mine field. I am part of a high risk demographic. At my age if I contract the virus the odds are against me, it may very well kill me. At the same time, I grieve for all of the world. The wonderful side of free market Capitalism has left us defenseless to an attack on its vulnerable under-belly. Strength has become a weakness and fiscal feasibility would seem an oxymoron. We didn’t know what we didn’t know. We are supposed to learn from history but leaders can't remember history's lessons and can't see beyond the next election. Some experts had been predicting pandemic for years but those concerns were received like Chicken Little’s warning, the sky is falling. I think it was Chief Joseph who cautioned the U.S. General at the treaty signing, “You can’t eat your money.” 

Sleep is tricky. I never know if I’ll get what I need, only that I will get what I get. Physical work and talking with friends and family seem to be the best medicine for my necessary quarantine. It’s been 6 weeks now and the future looks like more of the same, a whole lot more. It is not about, ‘When do we get back to normal?’ There will be a new normal and that is scary when no one is in control. 

IT HAS BEEN A WEEK

It has been a week since I felt, even remotely, like sitting down to write. When I feel brave enough to be a risk-taker I switch the radio to the NPR station where the first soundbite can be both heart breaking and spirit crushing. So I leave my hand at the dial, ready to switch back over to music. You can sense the emotional weight by the tone of voice if it is a sad tale of loss and bad news. Likewise television; My t.v. gets its news from an antenna rather than the cable or satellite. That signal often breaks up with no usable audio or video. I would switch to cable if I could but that would put a stranger inside my house with new technology and necessitate a learning curve on how to operate the controls. I’ve decided against that for the present. 

In my journal I often pontificate. Pontificate; great word. Moralize would serve as well but without the annoyance of a pompous, self righteous bigot. I try to be subtle with my moral bias but it is what it is. I know enough psychology and brain science to connect the dots but then, on my best day, I think I think. At this point there isn’t much to moralize. Politics in particular have been supplanted in the need to endure and survive. Ideological bigots see pandemic as an opportunity to spread a polarizing message but I think, I think; most people see through that smoke screen. The message is  coming through loud and clear; we are all in this together and we will come through on the other side. 

I have not had a direct interaction with another human being for over 3 weeks. I see them. We wave and shout support from across the street or from passing cars but that wears thin. Telephone contact, Face Time, online (Zoom) meetings all help to keep connected and I do that whenever I can. I understand there is an element in every culture that flaunts a cavalier attitude but I am sensing a heartfelt, I love you, be safe, do the right thing. I take comfort where I can, with physical exercise and hands-on activity. Today, this writing is more therapeutic for me than anything else. It’s the first time in a week that the keyboard feels inviting. 

It is Good Friday. All three major religions celebrate this week, one tradition or another. I like Passover, the story is so long lived. Judaism is the oldest branch of Abraham’s deal with Yahweh, or Elohim, whichever suits you. But sons of Abraham all over the world are a little more tolerant of their sanctified  cousins this week than usual. My Jewish amigos, my friends celebrate more from a cultural coming together than as a religious expression. Historically, they have been singled out and persecuted more so than any other ‘People’. Their resilience models life’s longing for itself. I am sympathetic with that story without embracing Israel’s national agenda. But it is Passover and that’s a bigger deal than angry men, all sons of Abraham, fighting over scrublands and hating what the other holds dear. 

Easter in a couple of days; believers will join in spirit if not in the flesh. Their story is unbelievable as well but that’s how Faith works. With a deadly virus stalking every human on the planet, some would gather as a show of faith while others rationalize; God gave me a brain to use in emergencies and it tells me to stay home this Easter. If I had Faith it would make me feel better but Coronavirus and God are, I’m afraid, preoccupied with their own priorities that leave us all expendable. Good Friday: it surely must be a holy day. Today is the day at hand, the only day I can put my hands on. Tomorrow will be holy too, nothing  less. 

WASH YOUR HANDS

I woke up with an idea instead of a bad dream. It was almost 6:00 a.m. so I got up. I have a recumbent trike that I ride for exercise and I thought about making a stand so I could ride it in a stationery mode. But at best, it would be makeshift and less than adequate. Then it dawned, why not just fashion a workout station in the garage. I either have or can get bungie cords, rope and pulleys. Then, for not too much expense, I can get a simple stationery bike. In the pre Covid-19 world I wouldn’t have cared much for the idea but now it seems like a socially distanced avenue to some needed exercise. 

I’ve never been a conspiracy theorist but neither have I been a naive main-streamer. Right now, the experts tell us to keep a 6 ft. cushion from other people. But everything has changed in recent weeks and with nothing to hang my hat on, it wouldn’t surprise me if things change again. If the CDC & WHO come up with new/better, safer rules, you can’t very well fault them for not being better, sooner. So I take the 6 ft. rule as a best guess. At this point, it will be better to err on the side of caution. So I am rethinking going out walking or for bike rides. After all, for octogenarians the margin of error is zero. I’m also taking the predictions about flattening the curve in a month or two and restoring safe travel (interaction) as a best guess. So my garage looks like my most reliable, best guess. 

The hand washing and wiping down, alcohol, bleach, ammonia are starting to feel natural and sanitizing groceries/mail is also falling into the new norm. The gravity of navigating this viral mine field is sinking in. For me, retired, my day is a full time endeavor. I can’t imagine how it must vex young families and those who have lost jobs. History will certainly identify the heroes and culprits but that will come with hindsight. Human nature is the curse they all share. When 3rd World countries suffer from famine and pestilence it is easy to point out where they fumbled the ball. Placing blame is the first skill that any leader must master to survive. Western Civilization fumbled the ball seriously here. In a capital driven, free market culture, nobody wants to invest in a safety net against something dreadful that might happen, maybe, someday. The average human life span is short. With a history that goes back to Gilgamesh, man’s memory is even shorter. “Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke.” Accumulating unprecedented wealth and then hoarding it makes perfect sense; now there is a testament to unpreparedness. But the hook line is clever and a dash of conservative bravado is always well received. 

I don’t need to watch television to sense the panic. World health experts were not surprised. They petition their governments constantly for funds and staff that would allow for ongoing research and a means of rapid response. Anticipating the worst; if something horrendous is possible, sooner or later it will come to pass. I feel like the fly on the wall. National and local leaders are wrestling with the dilemma, to sacrifice the economy for human lives or lives for the economy? I’m glad I don’t have that weight on my back. Excuse me, I have a bar of soap and it’s time to wash my hands. I have some rope and bungie cord. If you come over to share a dose of human nature, I’ll have to ask you to stay at the curb.