(Electronic music)
- (Jared) Hey Wisecrack, Jared here. If your bunker has reliable WiFi, you may have noticed
a certain word making the rounds lately:
(News footage, variations on “The Coronavirus Crisis” are said)
- (Jared) COVID-19 is a “crisis”. But what exactly is a “crisis?” The meaning
of the word seems obvious enough, but as we’re about to find out, there’s actually more
to it than you might think. Philosophers from Lao Tzu to Voltaire have been grappling with
the idea of crisis for millennia, and now we’re gonna throw our mask in the ring...
I mean, not literally. I lost my spare.
Welcome to this Wisecrack Edition on the Philosophy of Crisis.
In everyday speech, “crisis” is sometimes lumped in with words like “disaster,”
“catastrophe,” etc. That is, words that call to mind some big, terrible event that
causes a lot of damage. But the technical definition of the term is much more specific.
The English word “crisis” has its root in the Greek word “krinein,” meaning to
separate or choose. Ancient Greek physicians used the term to refer to a precise moment
in the development of an illness when a doctor must apply a particular treatment. According
to the Hippocratic medical tradition, failing to act decisively during this brief window
of opportunity could lead to the death of the patient. For Aristotle, the root “krinein”
referred to a decision made in the political sphere--that is, a choice between contradictory
options, with the potential to create lasting changes in society. ”
A crisis is a decisive moment, in which there is the possibility for great harm and great
change--and after which things can no longer be the same.
One historical crisis in particular demonstrates how a devastating event can become the catalyst
for government overhaul, redistribution of power among institutions, and even changes
in religious thought. I’m talking, of course, about the Lisbon Earthquake of 1755.
(Crickets chirping)
- (Jared) OK, so unless you’re a history buff, you may not have heard of that one.
But this natural disaster--and the ways that individuals and institutions responded to
it --contributed to major changes in the way that Europeans related to their governments,
and had a big influence on some of the key thinkers behind the Scientific Revolution.
On November 1st of that year, while many were in church celebrating All-Saints Day, a massive
earthquake struck the capital of Portugal. The seismic activity leveled many of the city’s
buildings, crushing the people inside, and as the icing on the shit cake, triggered a
big old tsunami that added to the destruction. In the chaos that followed, a massive fire
broke out and burned away much of what remained. It killed 60,000 people, according to some
estimates
The disaster sparked a crisis of authority--specifically, the authority of the church versus the authority
of the state. While the Marquis of Pombal, de facto ruler of Portugal, wanted Lisbonites
to focus on distributing food efficiently, and rebuilding the city, prominent Jesuit
priest Gabriel Malagrida urged people to spend their time repenting for the sins that he
felt had brought God’s judgement upon the city. Thankfully, that sort of thing doesn’t
happen anymore.
- (Rick Joyner) A US Senator called me and asked me if Hurricane Katrina was a judgement
from God. I said, yes!
(Sad trombone plays)
- (Jared) The crisis forced a choice between the authority of the church and that of the
state. Specifically, a new, Absolutist form of authority, which would place ultimate decision-making
power in the hands of a sovereign at the center of a more-secular government. By ignoring
the church’s “plan” for disaster response, Pombal’s actions would represent a huge
departure from centuries of church involvement in state affairs, as seen in the coronation
of Charlemagne by Pope Leo III ALL the way back in 800 CE. In the end, Pombal made the
choice for Lisbon… by having Malagrida publicly humiliated, strangled to death and his body
burnt at the stake.
- (Robot Chicken) Ah, I’m burning alive!
- (Jared) Like all crises, Lisbon was a critical juncture in the Greek sense. Was the city
to respond to the disaster with thoughts and prayers, or, you know, by digging survivors
out from the rubble? But it also became a critical juncture in philosophy.
In the wider European world, the catastrophe would also lead to a crisis of faith and philosophy
that helped spawn completely new ways of thinking about the world and its relation to the divine.
Before tectonic plates decided to treat Lisbon like an Etch-a-Sketch, early Enlightenment
intellectuals spent a lot of their time exploring “theodicy.” Theodicy is a branch of philosophy
focused on reconciling the problem of evil with the existence of a loving, omnipotent
God. Philosophers like Gottfried Leibniz argued that we live in “the best of all possible
worlds,” a universe in which evils like natural disaster and war ultimately serve
an inherently good Divine purpose which is beyond our mortal understanding. For at least
a few decades, this very nice idea was reasonably persuasive to his fellow thinkers...until
Lisbon.
In coming to grips with the disaster, French philosopher Voltaire--Zoomer to Leibniz’s
Boomer--came to believe that the idea of an inherently good world was horse sh*t. Against
contemporary Deist philosophers like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who defended the notion of an essentially
good universe ruled by some benevolent force, Voltaire argued that our cosmos is fundamentally
amoral--neither good nor bad. In the wake of the Lisbon earthquake, Voltaire wrote and
published Candide, an entire effing novella whose primary purpose is to roast Leibniz
and his metaphysical optimism. The story follows Candide, a young man who learns Leibnizian
philosophy from one Professor Pangloss. Voltaire portrays Pangloss as a buffoon whose dedication
to optimism leads him to absurd divine justifications for minor trivia and major evils alike: Voltaire
has this Leibniz stand-in say, for instance, that we have noses because God was thoughtful
enough to give us a place for our spectacles; and that it’s ultimately alright that Columbus
brought syphilis back from the New World because, hey, at least Europe got chocolate out of
it.
And you thought your tweets were petty.
The crisis of Lisbon pushed European thought to its limits, exposing the cracks in not
only church authority but also the realm of philosophy.
In the decades following the crisis, the philosophical community opted for a more secular paradigm,
leaving questions about God to theology, and contributing to the removal of theological
questions from philosophy. At the same time, responsibility for understanding disasters
shifted over to the emerging field of science: intellectuals let off trying to figure out
why bad things occur, and started investigating how they happened.
Of course, other crises perform similar roles. In the aftermath of the Holocaust, philosophers
were wracked with the basic question of: “How did so-called civilization birth this monstrosity?”
Even the rise of fascism has been attributed to a series of crises which, at critical junctures,
went the wrong way. The arguments of thinkers like Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci suggest
that the conflicts exposed by long-term social change enabled totalitarian movements to seek
out even more repressive means of control.
And for Karl Marx, the whole theory that the world will move to Communism is predicated
on the idea that capitalism generates economic crises, and people will respond to those crises
by mass revolt.
Now whether it’s an earthquake, an economic collapse, or a destructive political movement,
the point is: a crisis tugs at the very structure of our world. It exposes the cracks and weaknesses.
Economic crises can point to shortcomings in economic infrastructure. Natural disasters
bring to light rampant inequality ranging from unsafe housing to food insecurity.
Like the torch-happy Pombal, we are also facing a crisis which will force some pretty big
decisions over the next few years. Covid-19, and our response to it, will be sure to highlight
a score of problems embedded in society.
Take for instance, how different countries responded to the pandemic - which revealed
the very strengths or weaknesses of different systems of government. While some have noted
that China’s authoritarian government was able to successfully stem the spread of the
virus, the flip side is that this same government’s lack of transparency allowed the infection
to spread in secrecy in its early stages. On the other hand, democracies have greater
transparency, as well as a free press that’s able to share information and criticize or
support official policy, but those same democracies may be hesitant to enforce lock-down with
heavy-handed policing and stricter rules.
But pushing the limits of the democratic process isn’t the only problem this crisis is exposing.
It’s also exposing issues in an area that may seem totally unrelated: Industrial meat
production. On the human front, the fast-paced production-lines of the meat industry has
workers laboring closer to each other than ever. And so, it’s no surprise that Tyson
reported nearly 900 cases of COVID at one plant alone. But, to zoom out a little, COVID
exposes just how vulnerable we are to diseases that find a welcome breeding ground in factory
farms.
Evolutionary biologist Rob Wallace has pointed out that modern animal feedlots, which pack
thousands of animals together in close quarters, are the Little Bear’s bed to the flu virus’s
Goldilocks--a cozy biological stew in which to fester and mutate. Both the 2009 H1N1 virus
and the 1918 Spanish flu--yeah, that flu--have been traced back to American feedlots.
Now, we’re not trying to take away anyone’s hamburgers--and if anyone tries to take ours,
we have collectively sworn to cut a b*tch. Still, with the US meat supply dwindling as
factory farms and processing plants fall to COVID outbreaks, it might be worth exploring
whether we absolutely have to get our steak and pork chops by cramming thousands of animals
together in monotonous, unsanitary conditions for the duration of their short lives--or
whether there might be a better way.
Another weakness that COVID and similar diseases expose is how structural inequalities of all
kinds can help create pockets of highly vulnerable people within the broader population of a
city, nation, etc. With diminished access to testing and treatment, these groups endure
disproportionate pain and death--and can become the unwilling vectors for the spread of disease
to other parts of the population.
The virus has thrown these effects into sharp relief, and in the process brought up questions
about how we ought to structure our economies, governments, and societies--and who ought
to control them, and how.
Everybody has something to say about everyone else’s response to the pandemic. Whether
they’re shaking a fist at Florida beachgoers or seriously considering the upsides of centralized
despotism-people everywhere are thinking hard about where power belongs. Even in the US,
federal interventions that would have sounded crazy just a few months ago are already up
and running. $2 trillion dollar stimulus package, anyone?
- (Jim Carrey) Check please!
- (Jared) While no one knows for sure what our world will look like on the other side
of this particular crisis, one thing is certain: things will never be quite the same.
But what do you think, Wisecrack? What are some of the biggest decisions we face as a
result of the COVID-19 crisis? What might change over the next few years? Let us know
what you think in the comments below. Big thanks to all our patrons and be sure to subscribe
and ring that bell. And as always, thanks for watching. Peace.