Coronavirus and the path to compassion

By Amanda Price

It is often said that the coronavirus crisis is “unprecedented in our time,” “incomparable to anything we've experienced,” “unparalleled in the modern world” and “a once-in-a-lifetime event.”

This, of course, is not true for millions of people who live in third world or war-torn countries. It is only true for those of us who live a more comfortable life.

Our average life span means that many in developed countries do not experience global calamities more than once or twice, and sometimes not at all. These calamities are “unparalleled” to us, but by no means to everyone.

For Velibor Bozovic, who lived through and survived the 1990s siege of Sarajevo, this current crisis is easily comparable to what he has already endured.

“It was the first winter that you realized that this (conflict) is going to last, this is your life,” he said. “And somehow you live it. Just like people are adapting to the situation now.”

Bozovic, now a professor in Montreal, was able to speak from first-hand experience.

“We are incredibly capable to adapt to any kind of situation,” he said. “No matter how bad it is, you adapt. You live your life as best you can.”

Bozovic points out that even though we adapt, we also change in other ways.

Near Bozovic's home was a street consistently targeted by snipers. Everyone avoided it during the conflict, and not surprisingly, long after the war was over and the danger was gone. Although it was very near his home, he said, “I don't think I walked that street for months. That lingers, that stays. And I'm sure it's going to be the same now.”

These are minor changes, however, and are primarily instinctive. The change that survivors identify most often is their appreciation of the things they once took for granted ― family, friends and simple moments enjoying simple pleasures.

“Scars are inevitable,” one Holocaust survivor said, “but scars can heal, they don't need to remain open wounds. And with that healing you find beauty and joy in things that once were mundane, even lending sugar to your neighbor.”

These reassuring words, however, belie the anxiety about the future that is becoming a new feature of this crisis.

Nostradamus-like prophets are springing up everywhere. Falling just shy of sug-gesting a zombie apocalypse, these prophets seemingly possess oracular insight. Some even feign omniscience.

With cutting clarity, they foresee a future for mankind that mankind will barely survive ― economic catastrophe, social disintegration, rabid nationalism, the death of democracy and even the abolition of fun.

In ominous tones they prophesy that “nothing will ever be the same again,” blindly ignoring the fact that nothing ever is.

We live on a revolving rock, not a sedentary globe. Even on a biological level, things are never the same as they were the day before.

Around the globe, things are in a constant state of progression, regression, evolution and flux. Surprising things happen and expected things do not.

Volcanoes transform into mountains, tectonic shifts rearrange continents, species disappear, the earth's crust opens and swallows whole towns, solar flares from 150 million miles away cause electrical storms that set the forests ablaze, and hundreds of new viruses are born every year.

Sameness is a feeling, not a fact.

Permanency is the bubble that we have created to make ourselves feel secure. Itis an illusion that steadies the financial markets, and lulls us into believing that we have control over a world that does not recognize our authority.

We are not masters of our own destiny, anymore than we are the masters of time and space. We all live one day at a time, one moment at a time. To do otherwise would defy the laws of physics, or perhaps rent a hole in the fabric of the time space continuum.

We do not live each day as it comes by choice; we do so because there is no other choice.

Dr. Dipaly Mukhopadhyay, a Columbia political scientist explained, “That's how people in Afghanistan live all the time.”

They assume that you have no idea how things are going to be tomorrow, even if something terrible happened the day before. The result is that you live as we are only able to live, one moment at a time.

We are discovering that reality is dynamic and changing.

Dr. Tan Hwee Sim, a professor of psychiatry in Singapore said, “People feel torn between wanting to resist their new reality, or adapt to it. They may torment themselves trying to preserve normalcy, or counting down the day to its return ― as many are now. Liberation, survivors say, comes only through accepting what some may find unthinkable in calmer times: you, as an individual, have little control over the forces upending, or at times threatening your life.”

Still our high anxiety about what our future will look like, bizarrely leads most to believe the worst. And by virtue of that belief, assume their lives will have less purpose and freedom.

Pessimism has become the new wisdom, and it has skewed our perspective of what purpose and freedom mean to us, and to the world we live in.

This blinkered cynical perspective hinders us from seeing the world as it is ― a world in need ― shattered lives that need to be glued back together, broken families that need to grieve, impoverished neighbors who need to be rescued.

To respond to these needs we need to rethink the meaning of purpose.

Our new purpose in this always altering world can be to help others, not just in the aftermath of this crisis, but as a permanent change in society. Ironically, this crisis may provide us with that path to compassion.

But this change in thinking is more than moments of altruism.

Around us are numerous nations desperately hoping we will find the resilience to mobilize compassion, in ways that demand we rethink our priorities. A resilience that will shift our focus from ourselves to those who need us most.

We have seen failures in this respect, failures that reveal the dark side of humanity's instinct to survive.

Some developed European countries have done much more than close their borders as common-sense measures. Several well-stocked countries also closed their cupboards. Forbidding exports of life-saving medical goods to countries in urgent need, their moral compasses proved askew. Choosing to stockpile resources in anticipation, they stood by and watched aloof as people died and medical staff begged for help.

Ignoring the process of helping countries to recover so they could in turn assist others, these countries demonstrated to their fellow member states that solidarity was selective.

As a result of this lack of empathy, compassion and practical assistance, the world's second-largest union of states may find itself struggling to regain a sense of purpose.

Conversely, there have been successes that revealed the very best of humanity.

Healthcare workers have united globally to do what some governments failed to do. Sharing data and resources with colleagues around the world, doctors and nurses demonstrated what selflessness and compassion look like, even in the

heat of war.

Unquestionably the heroes of this crisis, these men and women lived out courage and compassion, and in doing so saved thousands of lives.

When this crisis passes, our attitude and treatment of healthcare workers will hopefully forever be changed. They have long deserved our respect and apprec-iation and may at last receive it in full.

If we do not learn anything from their example, then we have not learnt anything at all. And learn we must if we are to understand the value of living out-side ourselves, and inside the world of those in need.

Although focusing our attention outwards is not exclusively for the sake of others.

Emily Green, as associate professor of Social Work?at Rutgers University, explained that caring for others helps us to “regulate” our own emotions and gain a realistic sense of control. This regulation of our own emotions through helping others, Green goes on to say, has been proven to mitigate the effects of stress.

Generosity, many crisis psychologists assert, is one of the best anti-anxiety medications.

Dr. Steven Southwick, professor emeritus at Yale School of Medicine wrote, “Small acts (of kindness) are important.” Although focusing on the needs of others, and reminding them “this too shall pass”, we reinforce those truths for ourselves and find both meaning and purpose in something bigger than our often insular lives.

I am not a prophet, nor do I have insight to know the future, but if we choose wisely, that future should look like you and I. Despite how cliche the saying has become, we are the change the world desperately needs.

Surprising things may happen, and the gloom that was predicted may be undone.

We may come to realize that borders are artificial, but people are real.

We may learn that the inter-connectedness that helped this virus spread, will also help us recover.

We may come to understand that the most vulnerable among us, the elderly, the ill, the very young and the under-privileged are equal stake holders. Our bias toward the robust, the powerful and the healthy may be corrected.

We may learn to accept that we are all vulnerable, that none of us can control the future; we can only attempt to prepare for whatever it chooses to bring.

And finally, realizing all this, we may become more humble, more grateful, more able to see the needs around us, and realize that through compassion, we each have the power to shape the future we so long to see.