Theologian and ethicist Brent Waters shares his thoughts on the Coronavirus. He is a well-known theological commentator on transhumanism, and currently works on theology, technology, and a Christian appreciation of ordinary life.
Like many people across the globe I am hunkered down in my house hiding away from the coronavirus. I have had too much time to read or listen to the insipid rhetoric of most reporters, pundits, and politicians. I have grown weary of their chatter, especially when they offer their prognostications. Every day I am told how everything will change, what the new normal will be, how to prepare for the next pandemic, etc. Most of it is nonsense. No one knows, save God, much about the future, at least not the details.
There is, however, a growing consensus that we can’t go on much longer as bunker dwellers, especially for those whose livelihood is precarious even in the best of times. At some point in the near future a decision must be made that it is time to start leaving our respective bunkers, however slowly or quickly the pace might be, and get back to rebuilding a robust civil society.
Who should decide? It should not be doctors or economists for their respective vistas are too narrow and focused. Moreover, choosing between saving lives and saving the economy is a false dichotomy. Many factors other than disease affect human wellbeing and must be taken into account. In the end, politicians will be the ones who decide when we should start leaving the bunkers. And rightfully so, since they are the only ones who are accountable to the entire population. The decisions made by politicians will entail a perilous calculation regarding risks that will probably not be evenly distributed. The old, infirmed, and poor will bear the brunt, yet it is not a heartless calculation, but a tough and uncertain choice that is endemic to political leadership. It is only be in retrospect that we will be able to judge if our leaders chose rightly or wrongly.
To be clear, I am not suggesting that doctors and economists be ignored. They should be consulted, and they should offer their best advice. But it is only political leaders who have the authority to determine a future course of action to be undertaken by an entire nation and its people. These determinations are never risk free. During sequestration in my home, I have relearned that neither medicine nor the state can absolutely protect me from any and all harms. How could they, for I am a vulnerable and mortal creature, a lesson reinforced as I try to hide from the coronavirus.
I find that I no longer fear either the virus or the eventual political response. What I am coming to fear is the residue that might be left over from being bunker dwellers for an extended period of time. Some so-called experts are predicting that in the aftermath of the coronavirus pandemic we should continue to stay home as much as possible, maintain social distance, and wear masks in public areas. We might even prefer to conduct our meetings and business, our socializing, even our worship virtually rather that face-to-face. In short, we will try to be a society that keeps its distance from one another.
This strategy cannot succeed for very long. Humans are by nature social creatures drawn to one another. The idea that autonomy constitutes the supreme human value cherished by late moderns is fictitious as any cursory study of economics reveals. We need each other because we are vulnerable, finite, and mortal beings, an unescapable fact reinforced by our fear of the coronavirus. Contrary to the transhumanists, we cannot transform ourselves into invulnerable beings without destroying the very qualities that make us human and humane. Depending on one another is not our weakness but a strength. But satisfying this need for interdependence is predicated on trust. Without mutual trust, a robust civil society promoting human flourishing cannot survive. Keeping distance, wearing masks, prohibiting gatherings, remaining sequestered in our homes signal a fundamental distrust of one another as a potential source of contagion. A society of bunker dwellers is a contradiction.
It is not good to end on a note of despair, so I finish with a hopeful anecdote. The other day some workers came by to do some repair and maintenance on my house (a permissible act under the governor’s stay at home declaration). It was an ordinary act that I used to take for granted. We conversed, at a safe distance, and the work was performed. Yet this mundane act of off-line commerce warmed my soul. I could actually conduct an exchange without fearing these neighbors and trusting they would do work I needed done (which they did). Despite the lingering risks of the coronavirus, it’s time to come out of our bunkers and start being ordinary again.