Nº 7 – Love or war in times of virus?

Saturday, 11th of April 2020

Crisis means the “moment of decision”

by Francisco Colaço Pedro

“We have won the first battle,” the president proclaims to the country. “The enemy is insidious and unpredictable.” Locked in their homes, just as spring begins to blossom, the country listens to the news without any sense of surprise: the state of emergency has been extended.

The coronavirus has become a war target. The media report on it in a soap opera of fear, updated at every moment. They call it a public service.

In turn, the daily extinction of the species, climate change and the road to ecological collapse are now considered to be normal. Hunger and obesity, road accidents and air pollution do not justify states of emergency – although they cause more deaths than hundreds of coronavirus pandemics put together.

With the world economy taking a brief nap, it is likely that the coronavirus will save more lives than it has already taken, thanks to the decrease in pollution. And the measures that are being taken to deal with it – confinement and a sedentary life, excessive hygiene and medication, distancing… – may create more health problems than they actually prevent.

In the theatre of war, we sweep under the carpet those issues that are considered less ‘urgent’. What is the relationship between the ecological destruction caused by our civilisation and the spread of pandemics? What positive roles can viruses play in the life and health of our planet? Why do some of us have mild symptoms while others have severe symptoms?

99% of those who died in Italy were already suffering from other diseases. Above all, hypertension and diabetes. Is the problem in the virus, or in the frailty of our own health? Most of us are addicted to something or other: drugs, medicines, coffee, alcohol, tobacco, pornography or TV series. In Portugal, the consumption of antidepressants has tripled in recent years, while one person tries to kill themselves every hour.

The money economy, our disconnection from a place and from a community, the education system, parents away at work, meaningless work – all of this leaves us feeling deeply traumatised. Those who are old – the so-called “risk group” we so desperately want to save – have their lives reduced to the four walls of a care home, watching daytime TV.

What sense is there to this obsession with preventing death if we don’t try to live well?

What normality do we wish to return to?

The coronavirus crisis simply reveals the insalubriousness of the system in which we live. The problem is not solved with masks or vaccines. Instead, it will only end when the masks fall off – and with a revolution.

If everything is to be well again, life cannot return to normal

In the marvellous essay that has served as my inspiration, Charles Eisenstein says that the current crisis shows how powerful our collective will can be and how fast change can take place when we band together to fight a common cause. If we can change so radically because of this pandemic, then we can do so for any issue that we agree is important.

This crisis can be painful, serene, anguishing, euphoric. But crisis doesn’t mean pain, serenity, anguish or euphoria. It means the “moment of decision”.

Today, the important question is not to discover, from all the jobs that are lost, how many it will be possible to recover. It is to discover, from all the jobs that are harmful for people, society and the planet, how many we can succeed in losing forever. From all the aeroplanes on earth, how many we can succeed in ensuring that they never again take off –transforming them into museums, fablabs, libraries, therapy centres or restaurants.

From the street musician whose stage has suddenly become a desert to the airline pilot on furlough, the question is not which categories of those affected will manage to hold onto the crumbs of their existence. Instead, it is whether we will succeed together in taking a courageous and liberating step forward, such as implementing a universal basic income.

Faced with fear, we can awaken our inner PIDE (the secret police of Portugal’s previous dictatorial regime) and police our neighbours, or we can awaken feelings of compassion and solidarity. We can surrender our power to governments, bosses, husbands or landlords, or we can assume our own freedom and responsibility. We can nurture the obsession of controlling everything – until our death – or we can happily accept our marvellous vulnerability.

Whereas a tree makes a loud bang when it falls, the forest grows in silence. In this emergency, we can sow patience to regenerate the earth and the villages, neighbourhoods and common land, cooperative and community life.

In distancing, we can rediscover what binds us together. In our isolation, we can inundate all the corners of our cloistered life with a thirst for freedom.

From this state of exception, we can make caring for ourselves, caring for those we love and those who most need our help, permanent. We can open ourselves up to the pain, serenity, anguish or euphoria of those nearest to us. We can discover that our health and that of the planet are one and the same thing.

We can turn the idea that nothing is so exceptional as life into a permanent feeling. Living extends far beyond a beating heart: it is a shining gaze.

We may perhaps discover ourselves without fear. And discover in ourselves the changing world.