Trust in the Midst of a Pandemic

In the midst of a pandemic that is killing friends and family and that is, or will soon be, imposing inordinate financial hardship on many,  I find it interesting that there is a quiet certitude about things.  That the noise of living has abated and I can see some things more clearly. 

My neighbor, who usually is coming and going with little more than a wave, sits on his porch in the evening with a drink.  I walk over and we chat, me on the sidewalk, he on his porch.  His partner joins us and we discuss the situation we are in.  And learn a little more about one another. 

Down the street there is a fire going in a fire pit on another neighbors’ front lawn.  It’s a signal that they are around and wouldn’t mind company.  People stop by and hang out by the fire, keeping their distance and talking. 

Some days we have a scheduled “cocktail hour” with friends via Zoom or Houseparty.  Recently, we took turns singing solo some of the  songs we particularly liked. 

I started a text thread  with family, which allowed us to share relevant info, but also provided some personal moments of our day, moments that would otherwise have gone unshared.

A neighbor, 92 and still living a vibrant life at her home, needed help with her car.  The battery warning light went on and she was concerned.  Not that she’s going anywhere.  But having her car in good shape and operational was important to her.  So I suited-up, wore a mask and used some alcohol to wipe the steering wheel and drove the car to her mechanic. The battery replaced, I returned to pick up the car, swabbing everything down again before driving it back to my neighbor.

Going grocery shopping, as most of you know, is like entering a nuclear contamination site, using mask and gloves, if you’ve got ‘em, and alcohol or other disinfectant to wipe down grocery carts.  Back at home there is a another half hour process to clean the groceries and bags before putting them away. 

Though the risk of infection is ever present, there is also this clarity about what risk people pose to you.  Walking on the sidewalk, people veer to walk in the street if there isn’t enough clearance, or, if they don’t change course, then you do.  It’s easy to see when people come toward you, or walk behind you, how far away they are.  When a respectful distance is the norm, you can track the rate at which people are moving, you can tell if somebody is keeping their distance, and they can tell if you are keeping yours.

Somehow we’ve lost the ability to recognize and manage an acceptable social distance with others.  The noise of a zillion Internet voices and a lack of respect and courtesy in how we conduct social discourse has blurred these boundaries. Trust doesn’t just happen, it is something that we work to establish.  Being trustworthy is something we seek in other people, and something we wish others see in us.  We value trust between members of our family.  We value the trust we share among our religious brethren.  We take comfort in the trust we have for those whose political views we share.  Yet trust eludes us in the wider sphere of discourse beyond these familial, religious and partisan groups.  We’ve lost our ability to recognize and trust the intentions of strangers, of those who we don’t know. 

Yet our trust in strangers is essential.  How else could we do the multitude of things we do without trust?  Trust that people will stop at stop signs and red lights.  Trust that most people will obey the law. Trust that people use standard hygiene.  Trust that doctors, engineers, and other professionals use their expertise wisely and unselfishly. 

We have become attuned to discrepancies from our highest ideals, when racial bias mars the integrity of a police force, when a business cuts corners or manipulates the market to cheat people, when individuals in positions of authority and trust take advantage of, and hurt, others to satisfy some selfish desire.

We see the imperfections of people and systems and become cynical, rather than hopeful that, while not perfect, our laws and governance are tools by which we can achieve a more perfect union.  Focusing solely or primarily on these problems distorts an awareness of all those things that are working well, that are serving us, providing safety and equitable treatment to most of us. 

Not seeing what’s working distorts our view and makes it appear that nothing is working.  This adds to a  climate of distrust, a climate of suspicion that people of different faiths, of different political persuasion, of different economic status are inherently untrustworthy.  We do not see that they have a difference of opinion. We do not see that they are essentially good people with whom we can debate.  Rather, we view them as people who are not to be trusted.

 We’ve extended this suspicion to our social institutions, to experts  in various fields of endeavor, to scientific methods and procedures.  In short, we have come to suspect a large portion of the social systems that have evolved to improve our lives, that let us live longer and better, with more choices and more freedoms then at, perhaps, any other time in the history of human societies. 

Trust must be earned.  I am not advocating for some blind uncritical acceptance. It is important for us to discuss, debate, evaluate, and use science as well as our gut instincts.   This pandemic as tragic as it is, is also a wake up call, an opportunity to throw off our knee-jerk biases and favorite shibboleths. Let us continue to strive for what we individually believe in, but also recognize what we hold in common.  Religious beliefs, partisan divisions, and economic disparities will always create a certain tension between people.  It is the balance between this tension and what we can do together that defines us as a nation and as a model for what others can achieve.