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Qualitative Dimensions of Collective Intelligence: Subjectivity, Consciousness, and Soul

May 11, 2015 by Charles Eisenstein

May 2015
This article appeared in Spanda Journal (v. 2/2014)


Abstract:  This essay plays with two definitions of collective intelligence, drawing on two meanings of the word “intelligent” that bring to bear relevant arguments from the philosophy of mind, particularly in reference to artificial intelligence (AI) and its distinction between “strong AI” and “weak AI.” One definition associates intelligence with the ability to perform tasks involving logic, reasoning, pattern recognition, etc., an ability that can be quantified and measured. Most theory and research on collective intelligence works with this definition. Another sense of the word associates intelligence with some kind of consciousness or awareness, and would distinguish (per Searle) between real intelligence and the mere mechanical solving of problems. It is qualitative and its presence can only be inferred, not measured. I will explore the question of whether this sort of intelligence, as well as the problem-solving variety, is present in collectives. Do groups have a sentience that transcends the sentience of their parts? Do they have, whether in actuality or in potential, a capacity for morality or wisdom that cannot be reduced to mere problem-solving efficiency? Is it meaningful to speak of the desire, the intention, the purposiveness of a group as distinct from that of its members? And if so, how can these qualities be developed in socially desirable ways? I will adopt a transdisciplinary approach to exploring these questions, drawing upon notions of intersubjectivity, the social construction of self, crowd psychology, emergent phenomena, and concepts of group mind from mysticism, indigenous worldviews, and depth psychology.

* * * * * * *

There are two senses in which one might say a person, a machine, a group, an ant colony, or a planet is intelligent. The first and most dominant sense conceives of intelligence as the ability to solve problems – to produce an appropriate output given complex and varying input. We invoke this meaning of the word “intelligent” when we speak of a smart phone, a smart power grid, or an intelligence quotient. It refers to a measurable function, or a set of measurable functions, that can be evaluated and compared. As such it falls within the province of science, which might be defined (per Galileo and Hume) as the study of the measurable.

Accordingly, most of the academic study of collective intelligence focuses on these measurable aspects, answering questions like, “Under what conditions do groups make wise or poor decisions?” “How does gender composition affect the problem-solving capability of a groupi?” “How do various structures, agreements, and processes generate public opinion and decision-makingii?” A typical study might consider feedback effects in google search and other systems where popular choices, opinions, etc. feed back into the choices and opinions of others in the group can create a kind of stupidity, groupthink, or echo chamber.

There is a danger, though, in focusing on this rather narrow, measurable conception of intelligence. For one thing, it favors the kinds of problems we recognize and that we are able to formulate as discrete problems, for example as on a test. Problems that are amorphous, that don’t admit to discrete formulations or to quantifiable solutions, escape our measures of intelligence. Very often, the excluded capacities correspond to other kinds of marginalization: racial, cultural, epistemological. IQ tests are notorious for their elevation to the exalted status of “intelligence” that subset of mental capacities that accord with the values of the dominant culture. They measure, in large part, acculturation and conditioning, the mastery of the dominant or socially exalted mode of cognition. They also measure that part of intelligence that is measurable. But is that the only part? Are there aspects to the mind, whether individual or collective, that not only defy our measurement technologies to date, but that are inherently unmeasurable?

Chastened by the deficiencies, in practice and in principle, of intelligence measures, we might want to adopt a more expansive conception of intelligence in undertaking an inquiry into its collective expression. A second meaning of the word suggests something beyond the measurable, something qualitative, irreducible. We use “intelligence” in much the same way as we use words like sentience or consciousness, to refer to an aware subjectivity that perceives and experiences the world. Thus we speak of a divine, evil, or primordial intelligence, and distinguish between real intelligence and the semblance of intelligence. A smart phone, we might say, is not actually smart.

The distinction between these two senses of the word “intelligence” echoes that between “Strong AI” and “Weak AI,” in the field of artificial intelligence. Weak AI claims that machines can act intelligently; strong AI says they can actually be intelligent.

Most work on collective intelligent implicitly assumes what would correspond to the “weak” version of AI. Of course, one might say that each member of the collective (provided we are speaking of a human collective) has thoughts, so in a trivial sense the collective does think, understand, and possess consciousness. But is the collective itself, as an emergent being, have thoughts that are not identical with the thoughts of one or more of its members? Does the collective being understand something that none of its individual members do? Does it itself possess consciousness and subjectivity? We might call an affirmative answer to these questions the “strong version” of collective intelligence, exemplified by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s concept of the noosphereiii.

In other words, we all agree that groups can solve problems and enact various other cognitive functions. But does a group have a psyche? Does it have, distinct from that of its members, a subjectivity? Desires? Fears? Intentions? Really the question is, is a collective being a being, or is it just a kind of illusion, an expedient concept whose properties are fully reducible to and explainable by the properties of its parts?

Let me offer a few reasons why these are not idle questions. First, the actual effect of intelligence on the world depends on factors far beyond reasoning ability. Smart men and women have done horrible things; they have perpetrate the most arrant idiocy, due to no fault of their reasoning power, factual knowledge, or capacity to think abstractly or recognize patterns. If we grant the premise of collective intelligence, we must then ask what factors – cognitive or non-cognitive – might induce collective insanity as well. Some of these are already known – collective tunnel vision, the echo chamber effect, etc. – but perhaps by granting the collective beingness, and the various other qualities of self besides intelligence (or qualities contributing to an expansive view of what intelligence is), we can understand its behavior better.

Descartes seemed to think that conscious thought was a necessary and sufficient condition for beingness: “I think, therefore I am.” But a full human also feels, wants, loves, suffers, laughs… and we might say the emphasis on thought – which of all these qualities is apparently most exclusive to humans – is a form of the same anthropocentrism that through its disrespect for nature is laying waste this planet. Beings less like us, we relegate to a lower degree of beingness. Moreover, the identification of intelligence with thought, or with solving problems (of the kind that human beings are better able than other beings to solve), leaves out non-cognitive ways of interacting with the world that are part of an intuitive understanding of intelligence. It is with good reason we call an emotionally insensitive person clueless, whatever his powers of ratiocination. The narrow association of intelligence with (certain kinds of) thinking sanctifies the world view, politics, technology, and social structure that was created through those kinds of thinking. Analysis, abstraction, linear reason, binary thinking, and so forth are quite useful for creating the society we have today. By the same token, the crisis of that society invites us to broaden our conception of intelligence along with the approach to life that conception valorizes. This is the second reason to examine intelligence in the “strong” sense as it applies to collectives.

Thirdly, the very same questions I’ve been asking about collectives might also be asked about the human brain. What, for example, is thought? It is a sequence or pattern of neural activity, not something that can be done by a single neuron (as far as we know). We normally think of intelligence as an emergent quality irreducible to the elements of its physical medium: conventional scientific opinion does not hold that because each neuron has a little intelligence, the brain has a lot. The brain, in the conventional view, exhibits collective intelligence, and it is obviously intelligence in the strong sense.

Because the same questions of subjectivity and interiority apply equally to groups, to computers, and to individual human beings, we might profitably look to the philosophy of mind for insight. In the vast literature on consciousness and subjectivity, most of the debate centers on the question of whether these require an immaterial soul; whether mental experience eludes reduction to physical processes. The camp established in modern times by Thomas Nagel, John Searle, and David Chalmers says yes: however well a machine might replicate thought processes, there will be something missing: the qualitative, the interior, the subjective conscious experience. Nagel says that because any reductive, objective account of consciousness necessarily leaves out subjectivity – what it is like to be something – that therefore, there must be some aspect of consciousness that transcends physicalist, reductive explanationiv. Searle, developing the distinction between strong and weak AI, describes how a computer or other system could perform cognitive processes without actually understanding their contentv. Chalmers, similarly, invokes the idea of the (philosophical) zombie, enacting all the behaviors of a conscious self, saying all the right things, but actually merely running a program empty of interior experiencevi. To even conceive such a thing, he says, shows that there must be some non-functional aspect to consciousness (and therefore to intelligence in the strong sense).

Their critics are legion and, while their critical approaches are diverse, generally agree that a reductive physical explanation of consciousness is possible in principle. No non-material soul is required. Their case appears to be growing stronger, as brain research keeps uncovering neurological explanations for (or at least correlates to) aspects of experience that we consider central to consciousness, such as volitionvii and attentionviii. The implication is that consciousness is sort of an illusion, a computational process, and not an irreducible aspect of reality.

Lurking within this debate is a hidden but highly significant agreement: both sides agree that we have no direct access to the subjectivity of another person. While some may argue that interiority is necessary in order to offer the full range of responses that a human being does, most agree that there is no way of knowing whether someone has subjective interior experiences except by inference, for example, by asking them. The measurable dimensions of intelligence we can verify empirically; the qualitative aspect (granting that there is such a thing) we can only infer.

This agreement, however, takes for granted certain unstated metaphysical assumptions about knowledge and identity that we, the dominant intellectual culture, would do well to question. For starters, why is it assumed without much debate that no one can have direct access to the subjective experience of another person (or non-person)? This is obvious only if we conceive and experience ourselves as fundamentally separate from each other. There are other stories of self, however. We could see ourselves, as many spiritual traditions do, not as separate beings but as “interbeings,” not just interdependent but interexistent. There are many alternatives to the separate skin-encapsulated soul of Descartes and contemporary religion. We might, for example, adopt the metaphor of the holograph or fractal, in which each part contains the whole. In that case, it would be no surprise if I could, under the right circumstances, experience that part of me that is you. The holographic model of self and world, while outside mainstream philosophic discourse, has been developed by such thinkers as Karl Pribram, David Bohm, and Michael Talbot; it also echoes teachings in Eastern religion such as Indra’s Net.

This is not merely armchair philosophy. There are in fact many methods to induce the experience of subjective identification with other people – and not only people, but animals, plants, nations, planets, forces of nature, rocks, the earth, and other entities to which the Western mind would deny beingnessix. These methods do not lend themselves to scientific or philosophical “proof” of the subjectivity of other beings, even other people, because the very concept of proof depends on objectivity. When I say here that meditation, breathwork, or psychedelics can induce such states, I am making an assertion that rests on no firmer foundation than my own experiences and the subjective reports of people who have had such experiences.

Outside the Western mind, however, the ascription of subjectivity, intentionality, consciousness, and the rest to non-human beings is nearly universal. It extends not only to animals but to plants, mountains, rivers, the earth, the sun, even to rocks, in individual and collective expression. Thus, an encounter with a bear is also an encounter with Bear. In this way of thinking, collective intelligence in the strong sense is a given.

Despite our modern conditioning, we are not so different. It is quite natural for us to speak of “What Russia wants” or “What Microsoft wants,” even though we might, if pressed, admit that nations and corporations aren’t people and cannot have such a thing as a desire. Yet they behave as if they do. Or do they actually behave? Do they actually exist? Aren’t they just human fictions, agreements, stories?

Maybe. But to a neuron, the brain itself is a story. One day, two neurons were having a conversation. “Whoa, dude!” one of them said, “I just had a trippy idea. What if it isn’t just you and I who are conscious, what if all of us together are?”

The other neuron said dismissively, “Fun idea, but in reality all that is ever happening is you and I and billions of others of us having conversations with each other. That’s what’s happening on the base level.”

“But then why are we collectively enacting behavior that not a single one of us wants? Our collective being has been getting drunk every day, yet not a single one of us neurons wants to be doused in alcohol.”

Nor is the desire of a nation or of a corporation merely some additive property of the desires of its constituent members. Anyone who has spent time in an organization can confirm that sometimes, the organization does something that only a tiny minority – or even none – of its members actually agree with. It is as if the organization has a mind of its own. And maybe it does. Each constituent is called into one of various roles, becoming that role in organizational life. While different personalities may be drawn to different roles, the role is prior to the personality, which must fit into it. The fit is of course never perfect; hence the near-universal feeling that the role is not really ones self, the feeling of being a puppet of the institution. This feeling is quite common even among its putative leaders.

Maybe the reason it seems that the organization has a mind of its own, is that it actually does have a mind of its own. Not separate from the minds of its constituents, neither is it reducible to them. Nor are the minds of its constituents separable from the group. We are social animals; we are not separate individuals having relationships – we are relationship. Beyond the separate self, the smallest unit of collective intelligences is a partnership, and most of us have experienced that in a partnership, who we are changes. We might consider that “who we are” in total is the integration of who we are in each of our social, economic, and ecological relationships. Strip those away, and there is nothing left.

In other words, we cannot say that collective intelligence is secondary to individual intelligence, or a mere epiphenomenon arising out of relationships among individuals. Each level, individual and collective, co-creates the other. To identify the locus of subjectivity in the individual is a cultural conceit – one not shared by other cultures that valued the we above the I, and gave it ontological primacy.

That is not to say that any random subset of socially related people constitute a collective being. There must be some kind of container that defines it; a selective social membrane that distinguishes self from other, formed of the agreements and perceptions of its members and the society that contains it.

If it sounds here like I am advocating something like a “group soul,” maybe I am. Most intellectuals would probably be uncomfortable with such concepts, preferring to restrict any discussion of collective intelligence to its measurable dimensions. Intelligence in the strong sense I have invoked eludes the protocols of the Scientific Method, calling instead for a phenomenological approach. For one thing, it defies rigorous definition – how can one define, in more basic concepts, something that is itself elemental? If consciousness, subjectivity, and the “qualia” of experience are not merely the artifacts of complexity, not mere abbreviations for properties of collections of neural states or, in the case of collective intelligence, interpersonal interactions, they will defy reductive explanation. They cannot be measured in physical units; therefore, following Galileo’s distinction of primary and secondary qualities, we accord them a lesser degree of realness, or even deny that they exist at all. To be skeptical of such things as the “desire of the collective” or the “group soul” or “collective unconscious” is to stand securely in the demesne of science.

My purpose here is not to prove that there is some dimension of collective intelligence outside the purview of functionalism and reductionism. Even for the “collective” of the human brain, centuries of furious philosophical debate has failed to come to consensus that such a proof exists. The mind composed of human beings rather than neurons offers no less formidable difficulties. My purpose, rather, is to suggest that we step outside the demesne of science into other ways of knowing, relating, and communicating. We cannot use objective means to prove the subjectivity of another being. But we can use subjective means. What does this look like?

For clarity, consider what it means to relate to another human being as a subject rather than an object. Even if no objective proof exists that other people aren’t zombies enacting all the behaviors of a subjective experiencer without the interior content, and even though no one actually believes they are, to some extent most of us act as if we do believe it. We objectify other people, treat them as instruments of our own utility, as if they were less than fully a self. When we treat them as full subjects, however, we engage compassion: we consider what it is like to be them.

As Thomas Nagel explained in his influential essay, “What is it like to be a bat?” the essence of consciousness is that it is “like something” to be that other (person, animal, etc.)x. Most philosophers (but not indigenous people) agree that it is not like anything to be a brick or a rock – that these things are devoid of the qualities of self. Our reigning ideology claims that we have outgrown the childish perceptions of the indigenous, to see and manipulate the world as object. This condescending, arrogant, and ethnocentric attitude was much more compelling a generation or two ago, before the environmental crisis became impossible to ignore. Today, though, our arrogance is wavering, and we become more open to worldviews that do not arrogate the qualities of self to human beings alone.

Ultimately, our present ecological crisis has come largely because we see nature and everything in it as mere objects. The paradigm shift into an intersubjective world is inseparable from truly deep ecology. Will our ecological salvation come from merely being more clever in our manipulation of a natural world that we continue to see as a collection of soulless stuff? Perhaps a deeper sort of revolution is necessary.

It is quite natural that, as part of this shift, we begin relating to collectives as beings-in-themselves with a selfhood transcending their constituent parts. As when we relate empathically to another person, the foundational question is, “What is it like to be that being?” What is it like to be that organization? That audience? That corporation? That nation? That is not to say that their experience of being is identical to the human experience; we cannot directly map human emotions and perceptions onto non-humans. What we can do is to relate to that being as a subject.

To the extent that we accept the subjectivity of collectives, that they can be intelligent in more than the problem-solving sense, we are invited to venture beyond analytic methods in studying collective intelligence – just as we must venture beyond neurology in understanding the individual human psyche. We all know that organizations exhibit “behavior”; that they can be efficient or inefficient, healthy or dysfunctional. Can they also go insane? Delusional? Schizophrenic? Paranoid? Can they fall in love? Can they be afraid? Can they experience trauma? Healing? Do they have desires? Do they go through infancy, youth, senescence? Naïve intuition says yes, and while such questions may often defy quantitative study, we should not dismiss them as exercises in anthropomorphic projection. Who knows what avenues of qualitative research and practice might become apparent in asking such questions? Besides, they become quite natural as we expand our conception of selfhood beyond the human individual.

The field called organizational behavior already accepts, implicitly, the premise of the selfhood of collectives. Interestingly, the concept has also entered politics with the controversial legal concept of the personhood of corporations. The word “corporation” itself already suggests as much, denoting “that which forms a body (a corpus).” Notwithstanding the heretofore toxic consequences of the doctrine of corporate personhood, if we expanded that concept to “corporate selfhood,” we might explore what kind of “self,” what kind of being, a corporation is. (I speak here of corporations composed of actual people, and not those that exist only on paper.) What are its fears, its motivations, its character? These considerations might lead to insight on what kind of status they should be accorded under law.

It may of course be just as impossible to prove, through objective means, the subjectivity of collectives as it is to prove the subjectivity of another person. Nonetheless, the corporate example suggests that it can be a fruitful operating assumption (just as it is in interpersonal relationships). By accepting the validity of a phenomenology and a psychology of collective beings, we free research, activism, and organizational management to evolve. They cannot be left out of the larger paradigm shift toward a worldview of interconnection, ecology, and interbeing.

Biography

Charles Eisenstein is the author of numerous essays and books, most recently Sacred Economics and The More Beautiful World our Hearts Know is Possible.

Sources

Atlee, Tom. Empowering Public Wisdom: A Practical Vision of Citizen-Led Politics. North Atlantic Books, 2012.

Chalmers, D.J. “Facing up to the Problem of Consciousness.” Journal of Consciousness Studies 2: 200-19, 1995.

Grof, Stanislav, Realms of the Human Unconscious, Souvenir Press, 1996.

Nagel, Thomas. “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?”, The Philosophical Review, Vol. 83, No. 4 (Oct., 1974), pp. 435-450.

Neisser, Joseph. “Neural Correlates of Consciousness Reconsidered”, Consciousness and Cognition 21 (2012) 681–690

Searle, John. “Minds, Brains and Programs.” Behavioral and Brain Sciences 3, 1980: 417–457

Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre. The Phenomenon of Man (1959), Harper Perennial 1976:

Walsh, Vincent. “Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation: A Neurochronometrics of Mind.” MIT Press. (2005) ISBN 978-0-262-73174-4

Woolley, Anita Williams, Christopher F. Chabris, Alexander Pentland, Nada Hashmi, and Thomas W. Malone. “Evidence for a Collective Intelligence Factor in the Performance of Human Groups.” Science, September 30, 2010

iWoolley et al, 2010

iiAtlee, 2012

iiiTeilhard de Chardin, 1959

ivNagel, 1974

vSearle, 1980

viChalmers, 1995

viiWalsh, 2005

viiiNeisser, 2012

ixSee for example Grof, 1996

xNagel, 1974



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The Coronation

For years, normality has been stretched nearly to its breaking point, a rope pulled tighter and tighter, waiting for a nip of the black swan’s beak to snap it in two. Now that the rope has snapped, do we tie its ends back together, or shall we undo its dangling braids still further, to see what we might weave from them?

Covid-19 is showing us that when humanity is united in common cause, phenomenally rapid change is possible. None of the world’s problems are technically difficult to solve; they originate in human disagreement. In coherency, humanity’s creative powers are boundless. A few months ago, a proposal to halt commercial air travel would have seemed preposterous. Likewise for the radical changes we are making in our social behavior, economy, and the role of government in our lives. Covid demonstrates the power of our collective will when we agree on what is important. What else might we achieve, in coherency? What do we want to achieve, and what world shall we create? That is always the next question when anyone awakens to their power.

Covid-19 is like a rehab intervention that breaks the addictive hold of normality. To interrupt a habit is to make it visible; it is to turn it from a compulsion to a choice. When the crisis subsides, we might have occasion to ask whether we want to return to normal, or whether there might be something we’ve seen during this break in the routines that we want to bring into the future. We might ask, after so many have lost their jobs, whether all of them are the jobs the world most needs, and whether our labor and creativity would be better applied elsewhere. We might ask, having done without it for a while, whether we really need so much air travel, Disneyworld vacations, or trade shows. What parts of the economy will we want to restore, and what parts might we choose to let go of? And on a darker note, what among the things that are being taken away right now – civil liberties, freedom of assembly, sovereignty over our bodies, in-person gatherings, hugs, handshakes, and public life – might we need to exert intentional political and personal will to restore?

For most of my life, I have had the feeling that humanity was nearing a crossroads. Always, the crisis, the collapse, the break was imminent, just around the bend, but it didn’t come and it didn’t come. Imagine walking a road, and up ahead you see it, you see the crossroads. It’s just over the hill, around the bend, past the woods. Cresting the hill, you see you were mistaken, it was a mirage, it was farther away than you thought. You keep walking. Sometimes it comes into view, sometimes it disappears from sight and it seems like this road goes on forever. Maybe there isn’t a crossroads. No, there it is again! Always it is almost here. Never is it here.

Now, all of a sudden, we go around a bend and here it is. We stop, hardly able to believe that now it is happening, hardly able to believe, after years of confinement to the road of our predecessors, that now we finally have a choice. We are right to stop, stunned at the newness of our situation. Because of the hundred paths that radiate out in front of us, some lead in the same direction we’ve already been headed. Some lead to hell on earth. And some lead to a world more healed and more beautiful than we ever dared believe to be possible.

I write these words with the aim of standing here with you – bewildered, scared maybe, yet also with a sense of new possibility – at this point of diverging paths. Let us gaze down some of them and see where they lead.

* * *

I heard this story last week from a friend. She was in a grocery store and saw a woman sobbing in the aisle. Flouting social distancing rules, she went to the woman and gave her a hug. “Thank you,” the woman said, “that is the first time anyone has hugged me for ten days.”

Going without hugs for a few weeks seems a small price to pay if it will stem an epidemic that could take millions of lives. There is a strong argument for social distancing in the near term: to prevent a sudden surge of Covid cases from overwhelming the medical system. I would like to put that argument in a larger context, especially as we look to the long term. Lest we institutionalize distancing and reengineer society around it, let us be aware of what choice we are making and why.

The same goes for the other changes happening around the coronavirus epidemic. Some commentators have observed how it plays neatly into an agenda of totalitarian control. A frightened public accepts abridgments of civil liberties that are otherwise hard to justify, such as the tracking of everyone’s movements at all times, forcible medical treatment, involuntary quarantine, restrictions on travel and the freedom of assembly, censorship of what the authorities deem to be disinformation, suspension of habeas corpus, and military policing of civilians. Many of these were underway before Covid-19; since its advent, they have been irresistible. The same goes for the automation of commerce; the transition from participation in sports and entertainment to remote viewing; the migration of life from public to private spaces; the transition away from place-based schools toward online education, the decline of brick-and-mortar stores, and the movement of human work and leisure onto screens. Covid-19 is accelerating preexisting trends, political, economic, and social.

While all the above are, in the short term, justified on the grounds of flattening the curve (the epidemiological growth curve), we are also hearing a lot about a “new normal”; that is to say, the changes may not be temporary at all. Since the threat of infectious disease, like the threat of terrorism, never goes away, control measures can easily become permanent. If we were going in this direction anyway, the current justification must be part of a deeper impulse. I will analyze this impulse in two parts: the reflex of control, and the war on death. Thus understood, an initiatory opportunity emerges, one that we are seeing already in the form of the solidarity, compassion, and care that Covid-19 has inspired.

The Reflex of Control

At the current writing, official statistics say that about 25,000 people have died from Covid-19. By the time it runs its course, the death toll could be ten times or a hundred times bigger, or even, if the most alarming guesses are right, a thousand times bigger. Each one of these people has loved ones, family and friends. Compassion and conscience call us to do what we can to avert unnecessary tragedy. This is personal for me: my own infinitely dear but frail mother is among the most vulnerable to a disease that kills mostly the aged and the infirm.

What will the final numbers be? That question is impossible to answer at the time of this writing. Early reports were alarming; for weeks the official number from Wuhan, circulated endlessly in the media, was a shocking 3.4%. That, coupled with its highly contagious nature, pointed to tens of millions of deaths worldwide, or even as many as 100 million. More recently, estimates have plunged as it has become apparent that most cases are mild or asymptomatic. Since testing has been skewed towards the seriously ill, the death rate has looked artificially high. In South Korea, where hundreds of thousands of people with mild symptoms have been tested, the reported case fatality rate is around 1%. In Germany, whose testing also extends to many with mild symptoms, the fatality rate is 0.4%. A recent paper in the journal Science argues that 86% of infections have been undocumented, which points to a much lower mortality rate than the current case fatality rate would indicate.

The story of the Diamond Princess cruise ship bolsters this view. Of the 3,711 people on board, about 20% have tested positive for the virus; less than half of those had symptoms, and eight have died. A cruise ship is a perfect setting for contagion, and there was plenty of time for the virus to spread on board before anyone did anything about it, yet only a fifth were infected. Furthermore, the cruise ship’s population was heavily skewed (as are most cruise ships) toward the elderly: nearly a third of the passengers were over age 70, and more than half were over age 60. A research team concluded from the large number of asymptomatic cases that the true fatality rate in China is around 0.5%. That is still five times higher than flu. Based on the above (and adjusting for much younger demographics in Africa and South and Southeast Asia) my guess is about 200,000-300,000 deaths in the US – more if the medical system is overwhelmed, less if infections are spread out over time – and 3 million globally. Those are serious numbers. Not since the Hong Kong Flu pandemic of 1968/9 has the world experienced anything like it.

My guesses could easily be off by an order of magnitude. Every day the media reports the total number of Covid-19 cases, but no one has any idea what the true number is, because only a tiny proportion of the population has been tested. If tens of millions have the virus, asymptomatically, we would not know it. Further complicating the matter is the high rate of false positives for existing testing, possibly as high as 80%. (And see here for even more alarming uncertainties about test accuracy.) Let me repeat: no one knows what is really happening, including me. Let us be aware of two contradictory tendencies in human affairs. The first is the tendency for hysteria to feed on itself, to exclude data points that don’t play into the fear, and to create the world in its image. The second is denial, the irrational rejection of information that might disrupt normalcy and comfort. As Daniel Schmactenberger asks, How do you know what you believe is true?

In the face of the uncertainty, I’d like to make a prediction: The crisis will play out so that we never will know. If the final death tally, which will itself be the subject of dispute, is lower than feared, some will say that is because the controls worked. Others will say it is because the disease wasn’t as dangerous as we were told.

To me, the most baffling puzzle is why at the present writing there seem to be no new cases in China. The government didn’t initiate its lockdown until well after the virus was established. It should have spread widely during Chinese New Year, when every plane, train, and bus is packed with people traveling all over the country. What is going on here? Again, I don’t know, and neither do you.

Whether the final global death toll is 50,000 or 500,000 or 5 million, let’s look at some other numbers to get some perspective. My point is NOT that Covid isn’t so bad and we shouldn’t do anything. Bear with me. Last year, according to the FAO, five million children worldwide died of hunger (among 162 million who are stunted and 51 million who are wasted). That is 200 times more people than have died so far from Covid-19, yet no government has declared a state of emergency or asked that we radically alter our way of life to save them. Nor do we see a comparable level of alarm and action around suicide – the mere tip of an iceberg of despair and depression – which kills over a million people a year globally and 50,000 in the USA. Or drug overdoses, which kill 70,000 in the USA, the autoimmunity epidemic, which affects 23.5 million (NIH figure) to 50 million (AARDA), or obesity, which afflicts well over 100 million. Why, for that matter, are we not in a frenzy about averting nuclear armageddon or ecological collapse, but, to the contrary, pursue choices that magnify those very dangers?

Please, the point here is not that we haven’t changed our ways to stop children from starving, so we shouldn’t change them for Covid either. It is the contrary: If we can change so radically for Covid-19, we can do it for these other conditions too. Let us ask why are we able to unify our collective will to stem this virus, but not to address other grave threats to humanity. Why, until now, has society been so frozen in its existing trajectory?

The answer is revealing. Simply, in the face of world hunger, addiction, autoimmunity, suicide, or ecological collapse, we as a society do not know what to do. Our go-to crisis responses, all of which are some version of control, aren’t very effective in addressing these conditions. Now along comes a contagious epidemic, and finally we can spring into action. It is a crisis for which control works: quarantines, lockdowns, isolation, hand-washing; control of movement, control of information, control of our bodies. That makes Covid a convenient receptacle for our inchoate fears, a place to channel our growing sense of helplessness in the face of the changes overtaking the world. Covid-19 is a threat that we know how to meet. Unlike so many of our other fears, Covid-19 offers a plan.

Our civilization’s established institutions are increasingly helpless to meet the challenges of our time. How they welcome a challenge that they finally can meet. How eager they are to embrace it as a paramount crisis. How naturally their systems of information management select for the most alarming portrayals of it. How easily the public joins the panic, embracing a threat that the authorities can handle as a proxy for the various unspeakable threats that they cannot.

Today, most of our challenges no longer succumb to force. Our antibiotics and surgery fail to meet the surging health crises of autoimmunity, addiction, and obesity. Our guns and bombs, built to conquer armies, are useless to erase hatred abroad or keep domestic violence out of our homes. Our police and prisons cannot heal the breeding conditions of crime. Our pesticides cannot restore ruined soil. Covid-19 recalls the good old days when the challenges of infectious diseases succumbed to modern medicine and hygiene, at the same time as the Nazis succumbed to the war machine, and nature itself succumbed, or so it seemed, to technological conquest and improvement. It recalls the days when our weapons worked and the world seemed indeed to be improving with each technology of control.

What kind of problem succumbs to domination and control? The kind caused by something from the outside, something Other. When the cause of the problem is something intimate to ourselves, like homelessness or inequality, addiction or obesity, there is nothing to war against. We may try to install an enemy, blaming, for example, the billionaires, Vladimir Putin, or the Devil, but then we miss key information, such as the ground conditions that allow billionaires (or viruses) to replicate in the first place.

If there is one thing our civilization is good at, it is fighting an enemy. We welcome opportunities to do what we are good at, which prove the validity of our technologies, systems, and worldview. And so, we manufacture enemies, cast problems like crime, terrorism, and disease into us-versus-them terms, and mobilize our collective energies toward those endeavors that can be seen that way. Thus, we single out Covid-19 as a call to arms, reorganizing society as if for a war effort, while treating as normal the possibility of nuclear armageddon, ecological collapse, and five million children starving.

The Conspiracy Narrative

Because Covid-19 seems to justify so many items on the totalitarian wish list, there are those who believe it to be a deliberate power play. It is not my purpose to advance that theory nor to debunk it, although I will offer some meta-level comments. First a brief overview.

The theories (there are many variants) talk about Event 201 (sponsored by the Gates Foundation, CIA, etc. last September), and a 2010 Rockefeller Foundation white paper detailing a scenario called “Lockstep,” both of which lay out the authoritarian response to a hypothetical pandemic. They observe that the infrastructure, technology, and legislative framework for martial law has been in preparation for many years. All that was needed, they say, was a way to make the public embrace it, and now that has come. Whether or not current controls are permanent, a precedent is being set for:

  • • The tracking of people’s movements at all times (because coronavirus)
  • • The suspension of freedom of assembly (because coronavirus)
  • • The military policing of civilians (because coronavirus)
  • • Extrajudicial, indefinite detention (quarantine, because coronavirus)
  • • The banning of cash (because coronavirus)
  • • Censorship of the Internet (to combat disinformation, because coronavirus)
  • • Compulsory vaccination and other medical treatment, establishing the state’s sovereignty over our bodies (because coronavirus)
  • • The classification of all activities and destinations into the expressly permitted and the expressly forbidden (you can leave your house for this, but not that), eliminating the un-policed, non-juridical gray zone. That totality is the very essence of totalitarianism. Necessary now though, because, well, coronavirus.

This is juicy material for conspiracy theories. For all I know, one of those theories could be true; however, the same progression of events could unfold from an unconscious systemic tilt toward ever-increasing control. Where does this tilt come from? It is woven into civilization’s DNA. For millennia, civilization (as opposed to small-scale traditional cultures) has understood progress as a matter of extending control onto the world: domesticating the wild, conquering the barbarians, mastering the forces of nature, and ordering society according to law and reason. The ascent of control accelerated with the Scientific Revolution, which launched “progress” to new heights: the ordering of reality into objective categories and quantities, and the mastering of materiality with technology. Finally, the social sciences promised to use the same means and methods to fulfill the ambition (which goes back to Plato and Confucius) to engineer a perfect society.

Those who administer civilization will therefore welcome any opportunity to strengthen their control, for after all, it is in service to a grand vision of human destiny: the perfectly ordered world, in which disease, crime, poverty, and perhaps suffering itself can be engineered out of existence. No nefarious motives are necessary. Of course they would like to keep track of everyone – all the better to ensure the common good. For them, Covid-19 shows how necessary that is. “Can we afford democratic freedoms in light of the coronavirus?” they ask. “Must we now, out of necessity, sacrifice those for our own safety?” It is a familiar refrain, for it has accompanied other crises in the past, like 9/11.

To rework a common metaphor, imagine a man with a hammer, stalking around looking for a reason to use it. Suddenly he sees a nail sticking out. He’s been looking for a nail for a long time, pounding on screws and bolts and not accomplishing much. He inhabits a worldview in which hammers are the best tools, and the world can be made better by pounding in the nails. And here is a nail! We might suspect that in his eagerness he has placed the nail there himself, but it hardly matters. Maybe it isn’t even a nail that’s sticking out, but it resembles one enough to start pounding. When the tool is at the ready, an opportunity will arise to use it.

And I will add, for those inclined to doubt the authorities, maybe this time it really is a nail. In that case, the hammer is the right tool – and the principle of the hammer will emerge the stronger, ready for the screw, the button, the clip, and the tear.

Either way, the problem we deal with here is much deeper than that of overthrowing an evil coterie of Illuminati. Even if they do exist, given the tilt of civilization, the same trend would persist without them, or a new Illuminati would arise to assume the functions of the old.

True or false, the idea that the epidemic is some monstrous plot perpetrated by evildoers upon the public is not so far from the mindset of find-the-pathogen. It is a crusading mentality, a war mentality. It locates the source of a sociopolitical illness in a pathogen against which we may then fight, a victimizer separate from ourselves. It risks ignoring the conditions that make society fertile ground for the plot to take hold. Whether that ground was sown deliberately or by the wind is, for me, a secondary question.

What I will say next is relevant whether or not SARS-CoV2 is a genetically engineered bioweapon, is related to 5G rollout, is being used to prevent “disclosure,” is a Trojan horse for totalitarian world government, is more deadly than we’ve been told, is less deadly than we’ve been told, originated in a Wuhan biolab, originated at Fort Detrick, or is exactly as the CDC and WHO have been telling us. It applies even if everyone is totally wrong about the role of the SARS-CoV-2 virus in the current epidemic. I have my opinions, but if there is one thing I have learned through the course of this emergency is that I don’t really know what is happening. I don’t see how anyone can, amidst the seething farrago of news, fake news, rumors, suppressed information, conspiracy theories, propaganda, and politicized narratives that fill the Internet. I wish a lot more people would embrace not knowing. I say that both to those who embrace the dominant narrative, as well as to those who hew to dissenting ones. What information might we be blocking out, in order to maintain the integrity of our viewpoints? Let’s be humble in our beliefs: it is a matter of life and death.

The War on Death

My 7-year-old son hasn’t seen or played with another child for two weeks. Millions of others are in the same boat. Most would agree that a month without social interaction for all those children a reasonable sacrifice to save a million lives. But how about to save 100,000 lives? And what if the sacrifice is not for a month but for a year? Five years? Different people will have different opinions on that, according to their underlying values.

Let’s replace the foregoing questions with something more personal, that pierces the inhuman utilitarian thinking that turns people into statistics and sacrifices some of them for something else. The relevant question for me is, Would I ask all the nation’s children to forego play for a season, if it would reduce my mother’s risk of dying, or for that matter, my own risk? Or I might ask, Would I decree the end of human hugging and handshakes, if it would save my own life? This is not to devalue Mom’s life or my own, both of which are precious. I am grateful for every day she is still with us. But these questions bring up deep issues. What is the right way to live? What is the right way to die?

The answer to such questions, whether asked on behalf of oneself or on behalf of society at large, depends on how we hold death and how much we value play, touch, and togetherness, along with civil liberties and personal freedom. There is no easy formula to balance these values.

Over my lifetime I’ve seen society place more and more emphasis on safety, security, and risk reduction. It has especially impacted childhood: as a young boy it was normal for us to roam a mile from home unsupervised – behavior that would earn parents a visit from Child Protective Services today. It also manifests in the form of latex gloves for more and more professions; hand sanitizer everywhere; locked, guarded, and surveilled school buildings; intensified airport and border security; heightened awareness of legal liability and liability insurance; metal detectors and searches before entering many sports arenas and public buildings, and so on. Writ large, it takes the form of the security state.

The mantra “safety first” comes from a value system that makes survival top priority, and that depreciates other values like fun, adventure, play, and the challenging of limits. Other cultures had different priorities. For instance, many traditional and indigenous cultures are much less protective of children, as documented in Jean Liedloff’s classic, The Continuum Concept. They allow them risks and responsibilities that would seem insane to most modern people, believing that this is necessary for children to develop self-reliance and good judgement. I think most modern people, especially younger people, retain some of this inherent willingness to sacrifice safety in order to live life fully. The surrounding culture, however, lobbies us relentlessly to live in fear, and has constructed systems that embody fear. In them, staying safe is over-ridingly important. Thus we have a medical system in which most decisions are based on calculations of risk, and in which the worst possible outcome, marking the physician’s ultimate failure, is death. Yet all the while, we know that death awaits us regardless. A life saved actually means a death postponed.

The ultimate fulfillment of civilization’s program of control would be to triumph over death itself. Failing that, modern society settles for a facsimile of that triumph: denial rather than conquest. Ours is a society of death denial, from its hiding away of corpses, to its fetish for youthfulness, to its warehousing of old people in nursing homes. Even its obsession with money and property – extensions of the self, as the word “mine” indicates – expresses the delusion that the impermanent self can be made permanent through its attachments. All this is inevitable given the story-of-self that modernity offers: the separate individual in a world of Other. Surrounded by genetic, social, and economic competitors, that self must protect and dominate in order to thrive. It must do everything it can to forestall death, which (in the story of separation) is total annihilation. Biological science has even taught us that our very nature is to maximize our chances of surviving and reproducing.

I asked a friend, a medical doctor who has spent time with the Q’ero on Peru, whether the Q’ero would (if they could) intubate someone to prolong their life. “Of course not,” she said. “They would summon the shaman to help him die well.” Dying well (which isn’t necessarily the same as dying painlessly) is not much in today’s medical vocabulary. No hospital records are kept on whether patients die well. That would not be counted as a positive outcome. In the world of the separate self, death is the ultimate catastrophe.

But is it? Consider this perspective from Dr. Lissa Rankin: “Not all of us would want to be in an ICU, isolated from loved ones with a machine breathing for us, at risk of dying alone- even if it means they might increase their chance of survival. Some of us might rather be held in the arms of loved ones at home, even if that means our time has come…. Remember, death is no ending. Death is going home.”

When the self is understood as relational, interdependent, even inter-existent, then it bleeds over into the other, and the other bleeds over into the self. Understanding the self as a locus of consciousness in a matrix of relationship, one no longer searches for an enemy as the key to understanding every problem, but looks instead for imbalances in relationships. The War on Death gives way to the quest to live well and fully, and we see that fear of death is actually fear of life. How much of life will we forego to stay safe?

Totalitarianism – the perfection of control – is the inevitable end product of the mythology of the separate self. What else but a threat to life, like a war, would merit total control? Thus Orwell identified perpetual war as a crucial component of the Party’s rule.

Against the backdrop of the program of control, death denial, and the separate self, the assumption that public policy should seek to minimize the number of deaths is nearly beyond question, a goal to which other values like play, freedom, etc. are subordinate. Covid-19 offers occasion to broaden that view. Yes, let us hold life sacred, more sacred than ever. Death teaches us that. Let us hold each person, young or old, sick or well, as the sacred, precious, beloved being that they are. And in the circle of our hearts, let us make room for other sacred values too. To hold life sacred is not just to live long, it is to live well and right and fully.

Like all fear, the fear around the coronavirus hints at what might lie beyond it. Anyone who has experienced the passing of someone close knows that death is a portal to love. Covid-19 has elevated death to prominence in the consciousness of a society that denies it. On the other side of the fear, we can see the love that death liberates. Let it pour forth. Let it saturate the soil of our culture and fill its aquifers so that it seeps up through the cracks of our crusted institutions, our systems, and our habits. Some of these may die too.

What world shall we live in?

How much of life do we want to sacrifice at the altar of security? If it keeps us safer, do we want to live in a world where human beings never congregate? Do we want to wear masks in public all the time? Do we want to be medically examined every time we travel, if that will save some number of lives a year? Are we willing to accept the medicalization of life in general, handing over final sovereignty over our bodies to medical authorities (as selected by political ones)? Do we want every event to be a virtual event? How much are we willing to live in fear?

Covid-19 will eventually subside, but the threat of infectious disease is permanent. Our response to it sets a course for the future. Public life, communal life, the life of shared physicality has been dwindling over several generations. Instead of shopping at stores, we get things delivered to our homes. Instead of packs of kids playing outside, we have play dates and digital adventures. Instead of the public square, we have the online forum. Do we want to continue to insulate ourselves still further from each other and the world?

It is not hard to imagine, especially if social distancing is successful, that Covid-19 persists beyond the 18 months we are being told to expect for it to run its course. It is not hard to imagine that new viruses will emerge during that time. It is not hard to imagine that emergency measures will become normal (so as to forestall the possibility of another outbreak), just as the state of emergency declared after 9/11 is still in effect today. It is not hard to imagine that (as we are being told), reinfection is possible, so that the disease will never run its course. That means that the temporary changes in our way of life may become permanent.

To reduce the risk of another pandemic, shall we choose to live in a society without hugs, handshakes, and high-fives, forever more? Shall we choose to live in a society where we no longer gather en masse? Shall the concert, the sports competition, and the festival be a thing of the past? Shall children no longer play with other children? Shall all human contact be mediated by computers and masks? No more dance classes, no more karate classes, no more conferences, no more churches? Is death reduction to be the standard by which to measure progress? Does human advancement mean separation? Is this the future?

The same question applies to the administrative tools required to control the movement of people and the flow of information. At the present writing, the entire country is moving toward lockdown. In some countries, one must print out a form from a government website in order to leave the house. It reminds me of school, where one’s location must be authorized at all times. Or of prison. Do we envision a future of electronic hall passes, a system where freedom of movement is governed by state administrators and their software at all times, permanently? Where every movement is tracked, either permitted or prohibited? And, for our protection, where information that threatens our health (as decided, again, by various authorities) is censored for our own good? In the face of an emergency, like unto a state of war, we accept such restrictions and temporarily surrender our freedoms. Similar to 9/11, Covid-19 trumps all objections.

For the first time in history, the technological means exist to realize such a vision, at least in the developed world (for example, using cellphone location data to enforce social distancing; see also here). After a bumpy transition, we could live in a society where nearly all of life happens online: shopping, meeting, entertainment, socializing, working, even dating. Is that what we want? How many lives saved is that worth?

I am sure that many of the controls in effect today will be partially relaxed in a few months. Partially relaxed, but at the ready. As long as infectious disease remains with us, they are likely to be reimposed, again and again, in the future, or be self-imposed in the form of habits. As Deborah Tannen says, contributing to a Politico article on how coronavirus will change the world permanently, ‘We know now that touching things, being with other people and breathing the air in an enclosed space can be risky…. It could become second nature to recoil from shaking hands or touching our faces—and we may all fall heir to society-wide OCD, as none of us can stop washing our hands.” After thousands of years, millions of years, of touch, contact, and togetherness, is the pinnacle of human progress to be that we cease such activities because they are too risky?

Life is Community

The paradox of the program of control is that its progress rarely advances us any closer to its goal. Despite security systems in almost every upper middle-class home, people are no less anxious or insecure than they were a generation ago. Despite elaborate security measures, the schools are not seeing fewer mass shootings. Despite phenomenal progress in medical technology, people have if anything become less healthy over the past thirty years, as chronic disease has proliferated and life expectancy stagnated and, in the USA and Britain, started to decline.

The measures being instituted to control Covid-19, likewise, may end up causing more suffering and death than they prevent. Minimizing deaths means minimizing the deaths that we know how to predict and measure. It is impossible to measure the added deaths that might come from isolation-induced depression, for instance, or the despair caused by unemployment, or the lowered immunity and deterioration in health that chronic fear can cause. Loneliness and lack of social contact has been shown to increase inflammation, depression, and dementia. According to Lissa Rankin, M.D., air pollution increases risk of dying by 6%, obesity by 23%, alcohol abuse by 37%, and loneliness by 45%.

Another danger that is off the ledger is the deterioration in immunity caused by excessive hygiene and distancing. It is not only social contact that is necessary for health, it is also contact with the microbial world. Generally speaking, microbes are not our enemies, they are our allies in health. A diverse gut biome, comprising bacteria, viruses, yeasts, and other organisms, is essential for a well-functioning immune system, and its diversity is maintained through contact with other people and with the world of life. Excessive hand-washing, overuse of antibiotics, aseptic cleanliness, and lack of human contact might do more harm than good. The resulting allergies and autoimmune disorders might be worse than the infectious disease they replace. Socially and biologically, health comes from community. Life does not thrive in isolation.

Seeing the world in us-versus-them terms blinds us to the reality that life and health happen in community. To take the example of infectious diseases, we fail to look beyond the evil pathogen and ask, What is the role of viruses in the microbiome? (See also here.) What are the body conditions under which harmful viruses proliferate? Why do some people have mild symptoms and others severe ones (besides the catch-all non-explanation of “low resistance”)? What positive role might flus, colds, and other non-lethal diseases play in the maintenance of health?

War-on-germs thinking brings results akin to those of the War on Terror, War on Crime, War on Weeds, and the endless wars we fight politically and interpersonally. First, it generates endless war; second, it diverts attention from the ground conditions that breed illness, terrorism, crime, weeds, and the rest.

Despite politicians’ perennial claim that they pursue war for the sake of peace, war inevitably breeds more war. Bombing countries to kill terrorists not only ignores the ground conditions of terrorism, it exacerbates those conditions. Locking up criminals not only ignores the conditions that breed crime, it creates those conditions when it breaks up families and communities and acculturates the incarcerated to criminality. And regimes of antibiotics, vaccines, antivirals, and other medicines wreak havoc on body ecology, which is the foundation of strong immunity. Outside the body, the massive spraying campaigns sparked by Zika, Dengue Fever, and now Covid-19 will visit untold damage upon nature’s ecology. Has anyone considered what the effects on the ecosystem will be when we douse it with antiviral compounds? Such a policy (which has been implemented in various places in China and India) is only thinkable from the mindset of separation, which does not understand that viruses are integral to the web of life.

To understand the point about ground conditions, consider some mortality statistics from Italy (from its National Health Institute), based on an analysis of hundreds of Covid-19 fatalities. Of those analyzed, less than 1% were free of serious chronic health conditions. Some 75% suffered from hypertension, 35% from diabetes, 33% from cardiac ischemia, 24% from atrial fibrillation, 18% from low renal function, along with other conditions that I couldn’t decipher from the Italian report. Nearly half the deceased had three or more of these serious pathologies. Americans, beset by obesity, diabetes, and other chronic ailments, are at least as vulnerable as Italians. Should we blame the virus then (which killed few otherwise healthy people), or shall we blame underlying poor health? Here again the analogy of the taut rope applies. Millions of people in the modern world are in a precarious state of health, just waiting for something that would normally be trivial to send them over the edge. Of course, in the short term we want to save their lives; the danger is that we lose ourselves in an endless succession of short terms, fighting one infectious disease after another, and never engage the ground conditions that make people so vulnerable. That is a much harder problem, because these ground conditions will not change via fighting. There is no pathogen that causes diabetes or obesity, addiction, depression, or PTSD. Their causes are not an Other, not some virus separate from ourselves, and we its victims.

Even in diseases like Covid-19, in which we can name a pathogenic virus, matters are not so simple as a war between virus and victim. There is an alternative to the germ theory of disease that holds germs to be part of a larger process. When conditions are right, they multiply in the body, sometimes killing the host, but also, potentially, improving the conditions that accommodated them to begin with, for example by cleaning out accumulated toxic debris via mucus discharge, or (metaphorically speaking) burning them up with fever. Sometimes called “terrain theory,” it says that germs are more symptom than cause of disease. As one meme explains it: “Your fish is sick. Germ theory: isolate the fish. Terrain theory: clean the tank.”

A certain schizophrenia afflicts the modern culture of health. On the one hand, there is a burgeoning wellness movement that embraces alternative and holistic medicine. It advocates herbs, meditation, and yoga to boost immunity. It validates the emotional and spiritual dimensions of health, such as the power of attitudes and beliefs to sicken or to heal. All of this seems to have disappeared under the Covid tsunami, as society defaults to the old orthodoxy.

Case in point: California acupuncturists have been forced to shut down, having been deemed “non-essential.” This is perfectly understandable from the perspective of conventional virology. But as one acupuncturist on Facebook observed, “What about my patient who I’m working with to get off opioids for his back pain? He’s going to have to start using them again.” From the worldview of medical authority, alternative modalities, social interaction, yoga classes, supplements, and so on are frivolous when it comes to real diseases caused by real viruses. They are relegated to an etheric realm of “wellness” in the face of a crisis. The resurgence of orthodoxy under Covid-19 is so intense that anything remotely unconventional, such as intravenous vitamin C, was completely off the table in the United States until two days ago (articles still abound “debunking” the “myth” that vitamin C can help fight Covid-19). Nor have I heard the CDC evangelize the benefits of elderberry extract, medicinal mushrooms, cutting sugar intake, NAC (N-acetyl L-cysteine), astragalus, or vitamin D. These are not just mushy speculation about “wellness,” but are supported by extensive research and physiological explanations. For example, NAC (general info, double-blind placebo-controlled study) has been shown to radically reduce incidence and severity of symptoms in flu-like illnesses.

As the statistics I offered earlier on autoimmunity, obesity, etc. indicate, America and the modern world in general are facing a health crisis. Is the answer to do what we’ve been doing, only more thoroughly? The response so far to Covid has been to double down on the orthodoxy and sweep unconventional practices and dissenting viewpoints aside. Another response would be to widen our lens and examine the entire system, including who pays for it, how access is granted, and how research is funded, but also expanding out to include marginal fields like herbal medicine, functional medicine, and energy medicine. Perhaps we can take this opportunity to reevaluate prevailing theories of illness, health, and the body. Yes, let’s protect the sickened fish as best we can right now, but maybe next time we won’t have to isolate and drug so many fish, if we can clean the tank.

I’m not telling you to run out right now and buy NAC or any other supplement, nor that we as a society should abruptly shift our response, cease social distancing immediately, and start taking supplements instead. But we can use the break in normal, this pause at a crossroads, to consciously choose what path we shall follow moving forward: what kind of healthcare system, what paradigm of health, what kind of society. This reevaluation is already happening, as ideas like universal free healthcare in the USA gain new momentum. And that path leads to forks as well. What kind of healthcare will be universalized? Will it be merely available to all, or mandatory for all – each citizen a patient, perhaps with an invisible ink barcode tattoo certifying one is up to date on all compulsory vaccines and check-ups. Then you can go to school, board a plane, or enter a restaurant. This is one path to the future that is available to us.

Another option is available now too. Instead of doubling down on control, we could finally embrace the holistic paradigms and practices that have been waiting on the margins, waiting for the center to dissolve so that, in our humbled state, we can bring them into the center and build a new system around them.

The Coronation

There is an alternative to the paradise of perfect control that our civilization has so long pursued, and that recedes as fast as our progress, like a mirage on the horizon. Yes, we can proceed as before down the path toward greater insulation, isolation, domination, and separation. We can normalize heightened levels of separation and control, believe that they are necessary to keep us safe, and accept a world in which we are afraid to be near each other. Or we can take advantage of this pause, this break in normal, to turn onto a path of reunion, of holism, of the restoring of lost connections, of the repair of community and the rejoining of the web of life.

Do we double down on protecting the separate self, or do we accept the invitation into a world where all of us are in this together? It isn’t just in medicine we encounter this question: it visits us politically, economically, and in our personal lives as well. Take for example the issue of hoarding, which embodies the idea, “There won’t be enough for everyone, so I am going to make sure there is enough for me.” Another response might be, “Some don’t have enough, so I will share what I have with them.” Are we to be survivalists or helpers? What is life for?

On a larger scale, people are asking questions that have until now lurked on activist margins. What should we do about the homeless? What should we do about the people in prisons? In Third World slums? What should we do about the unemployed? What about all the hotel maids, the Uber drivers, the plumbers and janitors and bus drivers and cashiers who cannot work from home? And so now, finally, ideas like student debt relief and universal basic income are blossoming. “How do we protect those susceptible to Covid?” invites us into “How do we care for vulnerable people in general?”

That is the impulse that stirs in us, regardless of the superficialities of our opinions about Covid’s severity, origin, or best policy to address it. It is saying, let’s get serious about taking care of each other. Let’s remember how precious we all are and how precious life is. Let’s take inventory of our civilization, strip it down to its studs, and see if we can build one more beautiful.

As Covid stirs our compassion, more and more of us realize that we don’t want to go back to a normal so sorely lacking it. We have the opportunity now to forge a new, more compassionate normal.

Hopeful signs abound that this is happening. The United States government, which has long seemed the captive of heartless corporate interests, has unleashed hundreds of billions of dollars in direct payments to families. Donald Trump, not known as a paragon of compassion, has put a moratorium on foreclosures and evictions. Certainly one can take a cynical view of both these developments; nonetheless, they embody the principle of caring for the vulnerable.

From all over the world we hear stories of solidarity and healing. One friend described sending $100 each to ten strangers who were in dire need. My son, who until a few days ago worked at Dunkin’ Donuts, said people were tipping at five times the normal rate – and these are working class people, many of them Hispanic truck drivers, who are economically insecure themselves. Doctors, nurses, and “essential workers” in other professions risk their lives to serve the public. Here are some more examples of the love and kindness eruption, courtesy of ServiceSpace:

Perhaps we’re in the middle of living into that new story. Imagine Italian airforce using Pavoratti, Spanish military doing acts of service, and street police playing guitars — to *inspire*. Corporations giving unexpected wage hikes. Canadians starting “Kindness Mongering.” Six year old in Australia adorably gifting her tooth fairy money, an 8th grader in Japan making 612 masks, and college kids everywhere buying groceries for elders. Cuba sending an army in “white robes” (doctors) to help Italy. A landlord allowing tenants to stay without rent, an Irish priest’s poem going viral, disabled activitists producing hand sanitizer. Imagine. Sometimes a crisis mirrors our deepest impulse — that we can always respond with compassion.

As Rebecca Solnit describes in her marvelous book, A Paradise Built in Hell, disaster often liberates solidarity. A more beautiful world shimmers just beneath the surface, bobbing up whenever the systems that hold it underwater loosen their grip.

For a long time we, as a collective, have stood helpless in the face of an ever-sickening society. Whether it is declining health, decaying infrastructure, depression, suicide, addiction, ecological degradation, or concentration of wealth, the symptoms of civilizational malaise in the developed world are plain to see, but we have been stuck in the systems and patterns that cause them. Now, Covid has gifted us a reset.

A million forking paths lie before us. Universal basic income could mean an end to economic insecurity and the flowering of creativity as millions are freed from the work that Covid has shown us is less necessary than we thought. Or it could mean, with the decimation of small businesses, dependency on the state for a stipend that comes with strict conditions. The crisis could usher in totalitarianism or solidarity; medical martial law or a holistic renaissance; greater fear of the microbial world, or greater resiliency in participation in it; permanent norms of social distancing, or a renewed desire to come together.

What can guide us, as individuals and as a society, as we walk the garden of forking paths? At each junction, we can be aware of what we follow: fear or love, self-preservation or generosity. Shall we live in fear and build a society based on it? Shall we live to preserve our separate selves? Shall we use the crisis as a weapon against our political enemies? These are not all-or-nothing questions, all fear or all love. It is that a next step into love lies before us. It feels daring, but not reckless. It treasures life, while accepting death. And it trusts that with each step, the next will become visible.

Please don’t think that choosing love over fear can be accomplished solely through an act of will, and that fear too can be conquered like a virus. The virus we face here is fear, whether it is fear of Covid-19, or fear of the totalitarian response to it, and this virus too has its terrain. Fear, along with addiction, depression, and a host of physical ills, flourishes in a terrain of separation and trauma: inherited trauma, childhood trauma, violence, war, abuse, neglect, shame, punishment, poverty, and the muted, normalized trauma that affects nearly everyone who lives in a monetized economy, undergoes modern schooling, or lives without community or connection to place. This terrain can be changed, by trauma healing on a personal level, by systemic change toward a more compassionate society, and by transforming the basic narrative of separation: the separate self in a world of other, me separate from you, humanity separate from nature. To be alone is a primal fear, and modern society has rendered us more and more alone. But the time of Reunion is here. Every act of compassion, kindness, courage, or generosity heals us from the story of separation, because it assures both actor and witness that we are in this together.

I will conclude by invoking one more dimension of the relationship between humans and viruses. Viruses are integral to evolution, not just of humans but of all eukaryotes. Viruses can transfer DNA from organism to organism, sometimes inserting it into the germline (where it becomes heritable). Known as horizontal gene transfer, this is a primary mechanism of evolution, allowing life to evolve together much faster than is possible through random mutation. As Lynn Margulis once put it, we are our viruses.

And now let me venture into speculative territory. Perhaps the great diseases of civilization have quickened our biological and cultural evolution, bestowing key genetic information and offering both individual and collective initiation. Could the current pandemic be just that? Novel RNA codes are spreading from human to human, imbuing us with new genetic information; at the same time, we are receiving other, esoteric, “codes” that ride the back of the biological ones, disrupting our narratives and systems in the same way that an illness disrupts bodily physiology. The phenomenon follows the template of initiation: separation from normality, followed by a dilemma, breakdown, or ordeal, followed (if it is to be complete) by reintegration and celebration.

Now the question arises: Initiation into what? What is the specific nature and purpose of this initiation?The popular name for the pandemic offers a clue: coronavirus. A corona is a crown. “Novel coronavirus pandemic” means “a new coronation for all.”

Already we can feel the power of who we might become. A true sovereign does not run in fear from life or from death. A true sovereign does not dominate and conquer (that is a shadow archetype, the Tyrant). The true sovereign serves the people, serves life, and respects the sovereignty of all people. The coronation marks the emergence of the unconscious into consciousness, the crystallization of chaos into order, the transcendence of compulsion into choice. We become the rulers of that which had ruled us. The New World Order that the conspiracy theorists fear is a shadow of the glorious possibility available to sovereign beings. No longer the vassals of fear, we can bring order to the kingdom and build an intentional society on the love already shining through the cracks of the world of separation.

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