A Ship is Safe in Harbor...
And we build ships to be safe. Why? So that we can leave harbor. So that we can avoid catastrophe on the voyage. So that we can maximize our chances against the playfulness of Mother Nature and her rogue waves, her giant icebergs, her magnetic interference with navigation systems.
Risk aversion is not a disability. Precautions are exercised in all of our most dangerous activities. War-fighters, construction workers, mountaineers, arborists, players in the batter’s box, they all wear helmets for a reason. They do this because it’s an easy thing to do to mitigate significant risk, risk that could be ultimate and fatal.
The last year has demonstrated two damaging extremes: tombstone courage and paranoia. Surveys showed that liberals were far more likely to overestimate the mortality risk of Covid-19 and conservatives were far more likely to underestimate it. One team judged the other as sheep for wearing face coverings and these supposed “sheeple” labeled their political opposites as science-denying deplorables, generally while also ignoring the transmission data. As in all other topics, we screamed into our echo chambers and drank in curated information to conserve our established biases.
Frankly this year, as in all recent years, and all in recorded history, some folks acted like real assholes, even to complete strangers.
Especially, in fact, to complete strangers.
A new development, I believe, is that the internet has helped us forget how much braver we are for other people than ourselves. In every terrible act of mass violence, we hear stories of heroism: from the man with the narwhal tusk in London, the passengers of Flight 93, those that hid Jews from the Third Reich, to those that guided former slaves to freedom. These were humans made of the same material as you and I who were willing to risk everything, for strangers, because there was no doubt in their minds that it was the right thing to do. And if there was doubt, their reasoned minds conquered it. They were intelligent enough to know their possible sacrifice was necessary for the greater good. They performed their noble deeds as it was their duty as citizens of the world.
Look, I’m sorry you had to go through this last pandemic year-plus. I know how difficult it was. I was impatient and upset at times also. I got sick of the lack of consistency in protocols and confusing information as well. I am quite glad to see we are heading towards this thing becoming endemic rather than pandemic. And I’m hopeful it pisses-off completely.
Such frustration and confusion does not end my moral obligation to continue to follow best practices, to get the jab (because my body is NOT a temple and I assure you the vaccine will not be the thing that kills me), to stop at stop signs, to wear a motorcycle helmet, to exercise, to not cut in line, to respect those who want me to wear a face covering in their place of business, to tip the bartender, to learn about the sins of the past so they aren’t repeated, to get my news from more than one source, to read perspectives I might disagree with at a glance, to question authority, to remember the meaning of Memorial Day, to shut my gun-owning mouth when people are grieving those lost in a senseless mass shooting in the only supposedly civilized country on earth where they routinely happen, to give to charity, to use less plastic, to vote, to say please and thank you, and to generally extend “some fucking courtesy,” Danny.
Ships are not made to stay in harbor. They also aren’t made to sink. It’s neither feasible or healthy to cast aside all care or be paralyzed with fear. Train, plan and then go execute accordingly. When in doubt, when overwhelmed, confused, afraid or angry, remember the sage advice of Douglas Adams:
“Don’t panic.”
