I have always loved America in the very particular way of a grandson of a Russian immigrant who watched her family be slaughtered and then fled the country in a farmer’s cart to America. She lived a long life here in safety and comfort and security, she never again had to cover in terror from a knock at the door. She and I often talked of the great generosity of spirit she thought was at the heart of this country, at least for her, and I like to think that is so.
Writing about nurse Tracy Hickox yesterday and following some of the media coverage about Ebola, I can’t find the generosity of spirit she talked about. I saw a tidal wave of panic, anger, suspicion, hate and mean-spiritedness. In the news and on my Facebook page and e-mail queue, there was an avalanche of furor and paranoia. Rage at the nurse who spoke up for herself, rage at the doctors who supported her, rage at the governors who quarantined her, rage at the President, at the Center For Disease Control, at everyone in authority, at the very idea of science.
In many posts, there was not one single word about the people suffering in Africa, or what might best be done to help them. I could not find many people looking for the better parts of us.
I admire Kaci Hickox. Many people do not. “She works for the CDC,” raged Charlene, “she is a hypocrite! Get the facts before you spout off!” Writing online almost every day, I told Charlene that I thought it was better to be a hypocrite than write nasty notes on Facebook. I told her I think cable news and social media are a far greater menace to the workings of a democracy and to public health than any infectious disease could possibly be. She was outraged by my outrage. I told her to get lost, my Facebook Page will never be Fox News or MSNBC. She is gone, anger is her drink of choice, and she will find plenty of it out there to feed on.
How do we stay centered and find the better parts of ourself in such an angry and frightening swirl? Politicians who can’t listen or show compassion, citizens who have lost any sense of common purpose, or the ability to empathize or even speak in a civil way. Can we come together on anything any longer? I can’t find the generosity of spirit and collective goodwill that gave my grandmother safety and a good and long life.
A friend of mine – she is a nurse at a hospital in Maryland – an Ebola-designated treatment center – wrote me and said she also admired Kaci Hickox but she added that “we need to have compassion for the afraid.” A nurse’s powerful point of view. This struck home with me, I have just written a book about compassion – “Saving Simon,” – yet the point of it had slipped away from me, as it often does when I am confronted with anger. I grew up around anger, it was the currency of my home, it is a lifelong struggle for me to understand how to deal with it. But it is simple enough to be compassionate for people you like, difficult to be compassionate for people you don’t like or agree with. I guess that is the point.
People are very afraid, angry and suspicious, that is the ethos of the mob and the legacy of Facebook, cable news and political argument, that is Charlene’s view of the world. I rarely write about politics, and that is a good thing, but I took a bath in this river of anger and mean-spiritedness yesterday, and it reminded me to get back to work to find the better parts of me, especially if I was to venture out into this world. In our world today, where the air is filled with anger and division, the challenge is to ground ourselves and drink in a different stream – generosity of spirit is a good place to start.
In a curious way, it reminded me of the New York Carriage Horse controversy, the campaign against them so marked by mean-spiritedness and cruelty and the absence of compassion. The carriage drivers must try and ground themselves every single day, they inspire me to keep at it.
I admire this nurse who gave so much of herself, I understand the complex challenges of the political leaders trying to calm growing fear, and yes, it is important to show compassion for the afraid, people looking for safety and soothing amidst a blizzard of lies, controversy, and manipulation. More than anything, I wish to feel compassion for the sick and dying people of West Africa, they are suffering so much more than we are, their cries for help lost in our own selfish anger and panic. Kaci Hickox never needed reminding of this, so many of our political leaders seem to have forgotten it. I cannot be one of those people on Facebook sitting in their living rooms at their computer screens passing judgement on the lives of others, especially those who risk their lives to help others.
I love the generous spirit that saved my grandmother’s life and gave me a life of freedom and meaning. And I see this awful episode, like so many others, as another gift, another chance for me to seek out the better parts of me and call on the angels to show themselves and remind us of what it can mean to be a human being.
“The purpose of human life is to serve,” wrote Albert Schweitzer, “and to show compassion and the will to help others.” I am not always there, I will never stop trying to get there.