CoVID-19 – week 12

As you watch the protests in America, the unrest and the unrestrained violence of US cops how do you feel? We’ve seen Britain lead the world in excess deaths caused by the corona virus while the British Prime Minister boasts about the success of his government yet at the same time stands by his chief advisor who blatantly broke the regulations that so many British people followed at great cost.

its upsetting, not simply because of the injustice but because its a mirror held against the morally bankrupt and failed systems that we and Americans are a part of

It seems like different reasons to be angry, upset, disappointed, fearful and hopeless are hitting us from all sides. I wrote on Facebook how the criticism of the government that is both hapless and criminally negligent feels like an own goal. The argument we might hope to win only finds fulfilment in hurting us. What satisfaction do you get from correctly predicting the face slap you just got? The only positive you could take out of that would be the confirmation that you were realistic in your prediction and so might be able to either mitigate or even avert another slap by intercepting the precursor.

To know your fate can be both terrifying but also calming — at least you’re not expending mental energy on not knowing. But more important than having insight into how things are going to turn out is to understand the pathology of your insight: what is your motivation and how do you feel about it. The prophets of the Old [Hebrew] Testament were not primarily foretellers, they were seers seeing through the eyes of God. They were not merely conduits of the message, they were the message. Ezekiel was a prophet’s prophet. He understood the heart of a god who’d been abandoned by his people when his wife was taken from him. The prophets lived their message. One of my favourite James Taylor songs is Another Gray Morning and there’s a line that goes:

“She said ‘move me, move me, I’m locked up inside … but no more gray mornings, I think I’d rather die’”.

Sometimes when I feel anxious and uncomfortable I’ll deliberately watch a sad movie, not to wallow in self pity but to express my emotion. Its easier when its vicarious because the script writers have told you what to feel and why. Its a safe space with defined boundaries. And once you’ve tapped into that emotional pool you can follow your own stream back to its source. Analysis of the situation might be fruitless but at least you have connected with your heart.

While needing to understand the logistics of why the handling of the coronavirus crisis has been so terrible, what we really want and need are keys to unlock our emotional connection with what is happening. When 79 medics have died from exposure to CoVID-19 how do I process the 80th death? When my emotional reservoir is filled to capacity does getting angry with Dominic Cummings mean the death of another care home resident becomes old news? These stories leave me feeling sad, angry and guilty all at the same time because the common factor is a motiveless, amoral virus. My innate egocentricity and sense of solidarity creates conflict because I need to own the tragedy or I’m simply an observer). I need to seek justice (but by what means) yet still mourn the loss of life for its own sake regardless of the politics.

I’ve been getting really angry about Barak Obama this week — it’s not personally about him but rather the nostalgia for a president who would apparently do a much better job the Donald Trump. Yet he had 8 years to accomplished next to nothing and was one of the key reasons Trump got elected. But his non-existent legacy is not worth my emotional investment while what’s happening in England with regard to the current crisis demands my attention and I can’t pass it off. I already invested in it when I fought to get this government out of office last year and I can only divest now by being completely apolitical and that’s not a price I’m prepared to pay.

The murder of George Floyd, the subsequent protests and yet more brutality from the very institution that sparked this has been difficult to watch yet the outragious behaviour of US police, with no accountability, doesn’t stack up against the brutalisation of Palestinians by the IDF. Its largely unexceptional even by US standards when you consider the protests led by Martin Luther King Jnr. But its of its time and its upsetting, not simply because of the injustice but because its a mirror held against the morally bankrupt and failed systems that we and Americans are a part of. Its not a virus that has no emotional or institutional attachment to its victims, its a society that is devouring itself while censuring the parts its gorging itself on.

In some ways its like watching a movie where you are involved because you identify with the actors. But you can only identify with those being brutalised when you’ve followed the stories, repeatedly being shocked and angered and sensing the hopelessness as an onlooker. The crowds hitting the streets help create a sense of solidarity even though I’m watching from my seat thousands of miles away but having some understanding of the backstory gives a sense of continuity. And watching another story unfold while going through our own crisis helps me connect with my heart because its allowed me to observe my own frustrations through another lens.

Its possible to get angry with little emotional investment. It can rise and subside with so small a footprint you’d hardly recall a raised voice or heartbeats. Getting upset might be less visible yet feel like the subsonic rumble of a juggernaut shaking the foundations. The sight of innocent people committing no other crime than existing, being bludgeoned by police with the conscience of brick and this repeating itself with sickening frequency and making no sense, got to me. But only because a different kind of violence was being done over here to those whose only wrongdoing was being in a job that cared for others.

And like any parent will tell you when their child is sick, there’s a kind of helpless and disoriented feeling that comes from being an observer rather than the sufferer, like there’s a cost but no one to give you the bill. None of the shared tragedies make sense yet they collectively agree where the problem lies so we are able to triangulate and get our bearings. There is no resolution and none is asked for. We’ve learned not to trust happy endings because there’s always an ever after that will demand its own protests. What we want is a sense of unity and purpose where there is no curtain call, just more rehearsals.