Tag Archives: pandemics

Why Ten Instincts? (What May Roslings Have Left Out?) and Why Now?

As November draws to a close, I’m winding down my extended discussion of the book Factfulness and its possible relevance to current American and global situations. The book’s themes are likely to pop up occasionally in future blog posts, but never at the level of this month’s concentration. 

I’m not sure why the authors chose ten as the number of “instincts” they wanted us to watch out for. Lots of advice and self-help books have numbers in their titles—for examples, Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Arrien’s The Fourfold Way, Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life—but most categories overlap in actual situations. Perhaps ten is a handy number, a little beyond our typical ability to retain all at one time, but the number of fingers or toes most folks have, the base number system used in most commercial enterprises around the world. 

As I read and reread the various Factfulness chapters, I sometimes wished that the authors leaned somewhat less heavily on the distortions created by our instinctual tendencies. In their books, TED presentations, and gapminder website, the overwhelming number of examples they give are ones in which humans can be outperformed by “chimps,” Roslings’ stand-ins for totally random answers. (Given three possible answers, random responses would be right about 33 percent of the time.) Other recent psychological and sociological studies have highlighted some of the ways our earlier, partly “built in” ways of looking at the world do not fit modernity well. The one question on which most of Roslings’ respondents outperform “chimps” is the likelihood of continuing global temperature increases due to current high levels of atmospheric carbon dioxide. Maybe the Roslings could have included just one or two other areas in which we humans are not worse than random in matching our perceptions to reality? 

Since Factfulness came out, nearly a decade ago, I believe its relevance has only increased. The U.S. (and other “developed” economies) continues to grapple with multiple challenges. The Roslings, with their extensive long-term experience of the “developing” world, have done us a substantial service by focusing there, puncturing many preconceptions about the limited potential of Asian, African, and Latin American peoples (the so-called “global south”). Many in these societies are poised for continuing economic and cultural advancement. Near its conclusion, the book delineates five substantial global risks facing us in the 21st century: pandemics, financial collapse, world war, climate change, and extreme poverty. According to the authors, “…each has the potential to cause mass suffering either directly or indirectly by pausing human progress for many years or decades.” Any of these dwarf the overblown sense of risk many of us get exercised about in our instinctual responses.

What I liked best about the book was its concluding example—an illiterate peasant woman in what was then rural Zaire who may have saved Hans Rosling’s life with her insightful, impassioned speech and action incorporating appropriate responses to multiple misleading instinctual reactions:  

“I was in a remote and extremely poor village, … part of a team investigating an epidemic of the incurable paralytic disease called konzo. … The research project … had been meticulously prepared. But I had made one serious mistake. I had not explained properly to the villagers what I wanted to do and why. … (I)t was only when I switched off [some needed, noisy equipment] that I heard the raised voices. … Then I saw: a crowd of maybe 50 people, all upset and angry.  … I started to explain.  … One man with a machete started screaming again. … Then a barefoot woman, perhaps 50 years old, stepped out of the crowd. …

[She drew analogies to previous measles research that resulted in vaccines to eliminate this dangerous childhood disease. She mentioned her grandchild, stricken with gonzo, suggesting that medical research might lead to breakthroughs against future additional cases.] 

[Then] she turned her back on the crowd, pointed with her other hand to the crook of her arm, and looked me in the eyes. ‘Here. Doctor. Take my blood.’

I am amazed at how well [Factfulness] describes her [counter-instinctual] behavior. She seemed to recognize all the dramatic instincts that had been triggered in that mob [angry at Rosling’s inadequately explained attempt to draw their blood for research into a nutritional disease]. The fear instinct had been triggered by the sharp needles, the blood, and the disease. The generalization instinct had put me in a box as a plundering European. The blame instinct made the villagers take a stand against the evil doctor who had come to steal their blood. The urgency instinct made people make up their minds way too fast. 

Still, under this pressure, she had stood up and spoken out [with both emotion and examples that resonated with her fellow villagers]. … (S)he had courage. And she was able to think critically and express herself with razor-sharp logic and perfect rhetoric at a moment of extreme tension. …” 

In too much of the media exposure I get, in too many of my own reactions, I find evidence of “instinctual” responses and behaviors that can and sometimes do endanger the viability of our human enterprise. Remembering “factfulness” helps pull me back closer to reality.  

Stories from a Family with Long Generations

After another bruising electoral season, we are individually and collectively beginning to recover and move on. As an older voter, I do not expect to participate in many more presidential elections. Still, I’m concerned about the rancorous legacy our generation seems to be leaving for those who come after us. 

As a grandparent, I’ve lately become one of our family’s storytellers. It’s my hope that by sharing my own family story and then by deeply listening to others, I may be able to find more common ground. I hope that we may as a community be able to diminish the worst excesses of partisan bitterness. Every family has its own instances of disasters and triumphs. My family’s stories are unique but likely not uncommon. 

Some aspects of my biological family’s history remain a mystery. What has come down to me has been partially shaped by our clan’s tendency toward long generations. It’s also been shaped by a generally privileged trajectory and multiple generations of residency in what is now the United States of America. 

Both sets of my grandparents were well into their sixties or seventies, living in Maryland, when I was born there in 1947. For my first eleven years, I lived next door to my maternal grandparents. That grandfather began life in 1869, so his earliest memories are from a time over 150 years ago. My other three grandparents were born in 1879. All four grandparents had stories to tell. 

My maternal grandfather, the man I called Pop-Pop, was born in Mississippi just after the U.S. Civil War. He was the youngest child in a family of former slaveholders, with one older brother and five older sisters. Pop-Pop recounted being frightened of the Union troops billeted in his family home during Reconstruction. He was later able to get a good education. He spent time as a school teacher before switching to bookkeeping about the time his first child was born in 1906.  

My maternal grandmother, nicknamed “Ginx,” was a 3-pound “preemie” born in January, 1879 in rural Virginia, in the days before many hospitals or “modern medicine.” Her parents later told her that for her first few months they had kept her in a makeshift incubator constructed by lining a laundry basket with warm bricks and cast-off blankets. Her father was a school superintendent in one of the counties where Pop-Pop taught school. 

My paternal grandfather was the second son in a family of midwestern small-scale farmers. He met my other grandmother while both were students at a telegraphy school in Kentucky. This particular school was run by a conman whose main goal seems to have been lining his own pockets. The two lovers conducted a lengthy, partially long-distance courtship, complicated by economic struggles plus the lingering animosity between northern and southern states. Grandpa was “Yankee bred,” Grandma a Southerner. They eventually wed at my great-grandfather’s North Carolina farm at Christmas in 1907. 

Grandpa and Grandma briefly attempted to homestead in Nebraska, but found the dry conditions and near-constant wind too much of a challenge. Grandpa later worked various clerical and administrative jobs, first for railroads and then for a government agency regulating interstate commerce. Grandma managed the small Maryland farm where they eventually settled and continued raising their children. 

(Portraits of my grandparents that a friend of my parents painted; they hung for years in the family dining room)

My dad made his entry into the family saga in 1912. Born in Ohio, he moved with the family to Maryland in 1920. Through grade school, he attended a two-room rural schoolhouse. By the time he was ready for college, the Great Depression had set in and money for tuition was scarce. Dad and his two older siblings took turns at the University of Maryland nearby, each finding what work they could to supplement the family income. They pooled their funds, helping each other pay college costs. Dad and his older brother John sold chickens and eggs from the farm. Aunt Lucy did clerical work. 

My mom showed up in 1917 as a “bonus” daughter, eleven years younger than her sister Margaret, five years younger than her brother Stuart. Family life was hectic as the “war to end all wars” came to a close in late 1918. The armistice was bracketed by a global flu pandemic that spared Mom’s family, but killed an estimated 50 million people worldwide. 

Aunt Margaret and Uncle Stu attended high school in Baltimore City. Though city tuition was somewhat expensive, Baltimore’s schools at the time were considered vastly superior to the small high school in the next-county village where Mom’s family lived. Pop-Pop and Granny spent much of the 1920’s ponying up city school tuition to give their children the best educational start they could. Pop-Pop had a job as a Baltimore-based bookkeeper. Granny earned money teaching piano pupils at home or in local schools. Then, just as Mom was ready to enter high school, the Depression hit. It limited Mom’s high school choices and nearly preempted her chance to attend college.

Within seven months during 1929-1930, Mom’s family experienced a one-two punch of reversals. The stock market crash in late October, 1929 did not directly impact them—Pop-Pop and Granny owned no stocks. The family’s downward spiral started about a month later with an “upward spiral.” On an unusually cold day just after Thanksgiving, a chimney fire broke out in their recently renovated kitchen. By the time the local fire brigade arrived, the fire had started to spread. They were unable to contain the blaze. Water from their hoses froze before it could reach the house’s high roof. The entire structure burned to the ground. The family found rental lodging, hoping to rebuild later. The following June, Pop-Pop, then sixty years old, was laid off from his job. The company he had worked for replaced most of their human staff with early calculating machines to cut costs. 

Somehow, Mom’s family persevered. Aunt Margaret and Uncle Stu were able to find jobs. Granny took correspondence courses in hotel management. She then got work as a full-time housekeeping supervisor at a Baltimore luxury hotel. Though she frowned at some alcohol-lubricated political shenanigans during the waning days of Prohibition, she held her tongue. Pop-Pop got what temporary work he could, once surviving a major 1933 flood while working as a night guard at a railroad construction site. 

Mom finished at the top of her high school class. She scraped together earnings and loans to attend college. The Depression eventually ended. Mom and Dad eventually met and married. Their “greatest generation” was partially shaped by the eras they grew up in—one global war, then boom times, then economic depression, followed by another global war. During the post-WWII baby boom, they produced me, my sister and two brothers. We’ve so far confronted different challenges, including a recent global pandemic with its accompanying trauma and dislocations.

What have been your family’s triumphs and trials? How may they influence your experience of the world going forward?  

In the Event of a Sudden Drop in Global Health

Back before the pandemic, I was a fairly frequent airline passenger. Before a flight took off, I and the other passengers would be exposed to safety announcements by staff (or, more recently, on video). Toward the end of their presentation, they’d give an explanation of what to do if our cabin became depressurized during high-altitude flight:

“In the event of a sudden drop in cabin pressure, oxygen masks will automatically drop from a compartment above your seat. Place your mask over your nose and mouth and breathe normally, securing the strap behind your head. (A flight attendant would demonstrate.) If you are traveling with small children or with others needing assistance, please secure your own mask first, then help those around you.” 

The pandemic nixed my airline travel for a while, but got me wondering. Were there analogies, albeit imperfect, to the current situation of global health? Of course, any pandemic is much more complex than an airline flight. Few, if any of us, have an adequate picture of its scope or trajectory. Even the best informed get fragmented and incomplete data, filtered through a particular set of biases and assumptions. Still, most public health sources are persuaded that none of us will be safe from the SARS-CoV-2 virus until infection rates are reduced to manageable levels everywhere.

Questions about the pandemic are seemingly never-ending. Can non-pharmaceutical public health measures help tame the pandemic? For example, how effective are travel restrictions, mask use, social distancing? How accurate are reports of cases, hospitalizations, and deaths? How reliable are vaccine clinical trial results? How frequent and how serious are side effects from vaccines? Who gets to decide how to allocate available vaccine doses? What gaps in public health infrastructure are most crucial to the pandemic’s spread? How long-lasting is vaccine-induced immunity? What about virus variants? 

Once the pandemic reached the area where I lived, I was at intermediate risk due to my age, over 70. As a retiree who rarely worked outside the home, I was able to reduce my potential exposure to the virus, unlike my health care worker son and daughter-in-law or my warehouse worker nephew. As a further tool to reduce my exposure, I had access to an N-95 mask purchased pre-pandemic for some home improvement projects. By late winter 2021, I had access to a vaccination. After seeing the minimal vaccine side effects for our son and daughter-in-law and noting the increasing case rates near me, I decided to get vaccinated. Two successive doses of a two-dose vaccine did not eliminate my exposure or disease risk, but in my view reduced it substantially. Though I’m not yet ready for extended airline flights, I feel comfortable traveling again, taking suitable  precautions as I go. Finally, I can breathe nearly normally! 

Now that I’m better protected against the virus, is there anything I can do to assist those around me? Without hard-core proselytizing, I can encourage friends and family to get vaccinated. I can donate time and/or money to efforts to increase vaccination rates globally. I can describe my experiences and my observations of those around me as I’ve traveled by car cross-country. I can listen respectfully to those whose views may be based on different subsets of pandemic information (and/or misinformation), on different life experiences, on different biases. 

Historically, past pandemics have eventually played themselves out. Humanity is still learning how to mitigate the impacts of the pathogens among us. May we get this SARS-CoV-2 “flight” to a less damaging conclusion than prior scourges. May we use what we’ve learned to help make future generations safer.