As I was out for my precious hour of exercise the other day,
I started musing about the nature of the predicament that Coronavirus has cast
us into. I couldn’t help reflect on how ironic it was that the most successful
and powerful species the planet has ever known has been forced to retreat to
the margins of a world it has become used to having absolute mastery over. And
by what? Well, by a tiny bundle of DNA scraps, lipids and proteins way too
small for the human eye to see. The phrase “The microscopic will inherit the
earth” came to mind, with apologies to the gospel according to Matthew!
OK, so it won’t come to that – not this time, anyway – but
what I find myself really hoping for is a learning from this situation. A
learning for our species, a learning about hubris. One of the core Buddhist
teachings is that all things arise in dependence upon conditions. This applies
to climate patterns, human societies, economic systems, and the evolution of
viruses alike. But we’ve grown used to seeing ourselves as distinct from
nature, able to lord over it and bend it to our will without any negative
side-effects. In our pursuit of an ever-higher standard of living, ever more
stuff, ever more luxury, we’ve lost touch with our true place in the natural order.
The consequences of climate change we’ve seen played out in our own county – does
anyone remember those hundred-year floods from another world? – and this
current health emergency are showing us that we aren’t above the system, that
we can’t seal ourselves off from the natural world and expect to get away with
it.
So what do I hope for? Well, in some ways I’m seeing the
green shoots of that already in the midst of this pandemic. People
rediscovering the virtues of and need for community cooperation. Members of my
Buddhist community smiling and waving at each other in videoconferences. People
standing on their doorsteps and balconies applauding our health workers. People
in cities enjoying fresh and sweetly scented air free of traffic fumes and the
majesty of the night sky without the constant rumble of jet engines and vapour
trails. Birdsong over quiet streets. The other day, I thought I heard a skylark
by the river. And a herd of goats has made its home in the vacant streets of
Llandudno. In the midst of so much economic and social upheaval, I sense the
emergence of a reconnection with society and the natural world, and that has to
be good.
Of course, once this is all over, people will get back into
cars and planes and there will be an explosion of social interaction; that’s
only natural. But I desperately hope his won’t come at the expense of the
natural world, that we won’t re-cocoon ourselves in complacency.
Some of you listening will be self-isolating. Some of you
will be feeling the stress of being cooped up and the economic pinch. But for
those of you who can, listen to the birds and enjoy the fresh, fume-free air.
And reach out to people, maybe those you’ve been out of touch with for ages.
For those of you who feel isolated, I know that armies of volunteers are trying
to get in touch with you. This crisis is bringing out the best of many people,
and it’s that which will get us through it with, I hope, some lasting lessons
for a better world.