Life is not a picnic; nor is it like a doctrine of what American self-help books love to regard as “You are okay, I am okay”. Instead, it surprises us, shocks us, and as we pass through puzzling curves, we realise that the “taken-for-granted world” can crumble. And then, we experience “shock”. Yes, as the novel coronavirus haunts our collective consciousness, we find ourselves in a world where fear is normal, surveillance is legitimate, human interactions are prohibited, and “distancing” becomes the new discourse. While every moment we hear how coronavirus is spreading and shattering the self-perception of modernity’s triumphant agenda, we are forced to ask a difficult question. What then is the meaning of existence? Is it only about chronic fear, isolation and stigmatisation of the victims? Is it only about the desperate urge to be biologically alive (with masks and sanitisers), yet aesthetically and spiritually dead?
To begin with, it is important to acknowledge that modernity has not necessarily prepared us to derive a meaning of dignified existence — particularly, amid existential uncertainty. Instead, it has made us believe that life is an express highway — a smooth road to “progress”; everything can be predicted and controlled; bio-medicine and technology can postpone death; and all sorts of metaphysical and spiritual riddles are psychic obstacles to be overcome for sustaining a technologically controlled “order”. Hence, under “normal” circumstances, as the children of modernity, we go on with physical, vital and mental pleasures in this “taken-for-granted” world. Today as the modernist myth of “certainty” is over; we seem to be at a loss. We really do not know how to live meaningfully even amid this uncertainty: when any time the virus can enter our residential societies, we may find ourselves coughing and breathing with great difficulty, and local hospitals may refuse to admit us.
Ethics of care
In the absence of a meaningful education to engage with the inherent uncertainty of life, we are reducing existence into yet another self-centric strategy for mere survival. It is in this context that I wish to reflect on “social distancing”. Well, since there is a possibility of community transmission of the virus, doctors are not entirely wrong in advising us to remain in isolation, and reduce travelling, gathering and other social transactions.
There is a positive meaning attached to it. However, what is equally important to realise is that without the aesthetics of living, “distancing” might degenerate into a mode of living filled with chronic fear, purely self-centric pursuits, and utter indifference to the pain and suffering of others. We should not forget that in our times we have already created enough “distancing”.
While anonymity has increased in urban centres, the normalisation of surveillance sanctified through the new technologies of “discipline” has destroyed the possibility of trust and spontaneous relationships. Furthermore, the techno-hallucination that the virtual world with all its media simulations has created is not really conducive to the growth of a real and physically embedded social space. Again, as the market colonises every domain of life, instrumental and strategic rationality kills the possibility of therapeutic and dialogic communication. The paradox is that many of us, despite social media “followers” and “subscribers”, remain lonely. Under these circumstances, the question arises: is the spread of the virus giving us yet another excuse for this self-centric/instrumental living? Be a clever and strategic “winner”, but never a “loser”. Is it like feeling proud that “I have survived; but they could not”? Is it what living is all about?
However, it is not impossible to transform this occasion into an opportunity for enhanced ethics of care. True, we need not travel much; we need not entertain meetings and gatherings. But then, in the name of “distancing”, we need not forget others. Instead, we can use — and this time humanely and creatively — our gadgets for a sustained social intimacy. Instead of neurotically striving for Facebook “likes” and “selfie” perfection, we can truly connect to our friends and neighbours, and overcome all sorts of “otherness”. Is it not the time to have a long conversation with a friend who cannot avoid travelling as his wife is undergoing chemotherapy in a hospital? Is it not the occasion when you and I ought to write a long letter to a friend who is worried about his daughter — a doctor dealing with COVID-19 patients?
Or is it not the time to have a telephonic conversation with your domestic help, and enquire whether she is safe in the overcrowded slum she lives in? Or is it not the time not to look at the clock, and have a long chat (over Skype) with your maternal uncle — a widower living alone in Rome, and invoke Mulla Nasruddin, crack jokes, and realise the joy of boundless laughter? Yes, it is possible. And then, we will be able to say that this is not “social distancing”; instead, this is yet another form of social intimacy. We would be able to realise that technology is not for self-indulgence; it is bridge capable of connecting human souls.
It is also important to learn to make a distinction between alertness and obsessive fear. Yes, coronavirus is real; and the continual dissemination of headlines like “Days after partying, visiting malls, Andhra man tests positive”, or “Govt. investigating COVID-19 patient in Tamil Nadu without foreign travel history” causes fear. Yet, this is also the time to realise that obsessive fear is essentially counter-productive; it paralyses, and makes us incapable of handling any emergency. Instead, every second we allow ourselves to die — ethically and spiritually. While alertness or appropriate medical care is important, we often tend to fall into the trap of fear, particularly in an age when WhatsApp messages, far from generating strength, spread negativity. Possibly, as I wish to state, we can transcend the psychology of obsessive fear not through the denial of the crisis, but through intense inner churning.
True, the virus can kill us. But then, this very moment when you and I are alive is the only moment available to us. Can we live this moment with mindfulness, intensity and care? This is the real education.
avijitpaathak@gmail.com
