I suggest that fear is a reason why some people hesitate to take the covid vaccine. It's not the only reason, and even those who fear may have additional reasons or incentives for hesitating. But in this blog post, I focus on fear. I suggest that those of us who are not vaccine hesitant might be able to understand, or come close to understanding, those who are hesitant.
My workplace will soon require all employees to get a covid vaccination, unless they can obtain a medical or religious exemption. The main point that remains unclear is whether declining a vaccine (and not getting an exemption) means a worker will lose their job.
One of my inclinations is to say, "fire the bastards." When I'm feeling more thoughtful, I'm inclined to say the worker should be suspended without pay until the covid crisis is over or until they opt for vaccination.
Either way, my impulse is to be punitive. I accept the logic that says,
the fewer people who are vaccinated, the more often the virus will
mutate, and the more dangerous it may become, possibly so much as to
make the vaccines ineffective altogether. And frankly, vaccine hesitancy, along with resistance to simple and non-invasive public health measures like mask wearing, has fostered untold suffering.People die alone in hospitals. Some survivors (apparently) experience long-term health problems. Many, many of us live in fear.
Yet even so, my emotional reaction ("fire the bastards") gives me pause. You see, my reaction is not only instrumental. It's not only focused on obtaining a desired and desirable public health outcome.
My reaction is also fueled by a certain resentment. I might even call it malice and a wish for revenge against the hesitant. Worse, I carry that resentment against the people who belong to certain populations that are stereotypically assumed to be hesitant. It would be inconsiderate to describe this more vicious sentiment in any detail. So I won't. But I will say I find it difficult to separate the rational calculation from the strange combination of tribal identity and instinct for survival that informs my darker thoughts.
How often have people identified a real enemy or real potential for harm and then responded with merciless force far beyond the actual danger? Even if the response is commensurate to the danger, or as commensurate as any response reasonably can be--even in that case, how often have we define the non-compliant as in some ways subhuman?
There for the grace of god go any of us. The trend seems now to favor mandates. Maybe someday those of us who are not vaccine hesitant will ourselves on the other side of a great and urgent question and have to face consequences for taking an unpopular stand.
Even if that never happens to us, what type of people do we become when we identify enemies? Or more precisely, what type of people are we tempted to become?
It starts with casual jokes about those crazy "anti-vaxxers" and devolves into hatred of entire people presumed to be "anti-vaxxers." It devolves into mobocracy. It escalates into endorsing a public health security state where much, much can be done to almost anyone as long as it's justified for the greater good of public health.
Hyperbole? Maybe. We're at least several steps removed from whatever
dystopia I'm imagining. And the situation is so urgent, the
mandates and likely penalties for non-compliance are so mild (perhaps
too mild), and our civil society is so strong, that my worries are probably mostly theoretical.
And maybe all coercive measures, no
matter how reasonable, justified, or instrumental to a greater good--maybe they all must of
necessity occasion the stronger and more vile emotions. Maybe the best of those measures operate in part to check those sentiments. And each of us is nuanced moral agent. Maybe we can check those sentiments and be better than our principles. Maybe we can keep our eyes on the prize,
which in this case is taming coronavirus disease.
A few months ago, I finished a two-year stint on the board of directors for a small, not for profit organization. During the second of those two years, I served as president. Those experiences have given me the chance to reflect on leadership. I'd like to share some of those reflections with you. It would take too long to put all the reflections in one post, so I'll try to do it in the occasional post, as the mood strikes me.
I was originally going to title this series "Lessons in leadership." But I believe these are better described as "reflections" rather than "lessons." Much of what I supposedly learned, I already on some level knew or believed before I "learned" it. More important, my "reflections" are just as often opinions about leadership that are contestable. To call those opinions "lessons" is to make them seem stronger and less assailable than they probably are. A lesson usually connotes "something true that is learned" while my opinions are conclusions that are debatable even when informed by thought and experience.
Before I go further, I should alert you of a few things.
When it comes to addressing Covid-19 vaccine hesitancy, public health campaigns fall down on the job.
I'll focus on one example. It's an article published at the University of Michigan Health website, titled "Who has the right to ask if you're vaccinated?" (url at <https://healthblog.uofmhealth.org/wellness-prevention/who-has-a-right-to-ask-if-youre-vaccinated>, accessed May 9, 2021). It sets out to expose what it calls the "false controversy" about "covid passports." Covid passports refer to the idea that businesses and certain government services, such as schools, should have the authority to require their patrons and charges to prove they have have been vaccinated against covid-19. Presumably, one way to facilitate that would be to issue documents, or "passports," that the vaccinated can show to gain entry.
The arguments the article makes seem designed to convince no one. They make a caricature of the objections that people may have about covid passports and about the covid vaccines generally. In doing so, they represent the way that public health campaigns often fail to promote public health.
Those of us who criticize DEI and other activism that passes for "anti-racism" must reject white nationalism. We must be honest about it. If we feel tempted to white nationalism, we must acknowledge to ourselves its appeal and refuse to endorse it. The temptations are ever present, and we mustn't blame others when we choose to give in to those temptations.
[UPDATE: On June 19, 2021, I changed the title from "Unsolicited advice for DEI skeptics...." to "Advice for my fellow DEI skeptics...."]
Much about DEI trainings is unfair. Some of it is plain wrong. But life is unfair. Sometimes (not always,but sometimes) we should just accept it.
If you've read some of my more recent posts, you'll note that I've taken to offering "unsolicited advice" to activists and DEI trainers. Not that anyone has commented on them yet, but I'd like to address one potential objection to those posts:
What standing do I have to give advice to others on these matters?
That objection is legitimate. I know activism and DEI training is hard work. I have in times past dipped my toe in activism, and I'm not doing so now--and what I would do is quite limited. It's easy for someone in the cheap seats, like me, to criticize. It's much, much harder to put yourself out there.
I'll add that the goals of the advocates I criticize are, in broad brush strokes, usually either good or at least within the pale of what is defensible. "Usually" isn't "always," but it's far from never--and "defensible" is better than "shock the conscience bad." And in general, when they advocate for something that I believe is indefensible, it's usually a type of indefensible that focuses on the effects of their efforts, or on the argument that if we take their assumptions to a logical extreme, we come to some very disturbing conclusions. There but for the grace of god go any of us, and I have gone there often.
That said let me suggest that if you are an activist or a DEI trainer, you ought to consider my "unsolicited advice," even if we stipulate (which I won't) that I'm being insincere. If you want to gain the support of me, or people similarly situated to me, you may wish to follow the advice.
It's not just about gaining support, either. It's also about ensuring that we don't become hostile to your project. There is such a thing as spite. It's probably not a good thing, but the temptation to indulge it is evergreen. You might wish to lessen the temptation.
Or you might not. Maybe after considering the above, you'll decide not to heed my advice. Maybe you'll decide there's a critical number of people whose support you can win, or who you can empower, with advocacy that declines my suggestions. Like me, you live in a world of scarcity. You might want to dedicate your resources to those who, in your estimation, are more reachable than I am. At any rate, you have to draw the line somewhere. And it's not fair of me to criticize you for the act of line drawing, even if I disagree about how you draw it.
Even then, it's good to have a clear sense of what you're doing. And my "unsolicited advice" might very well help you do that, even if you decline to follow any of my suggestions.
A final note about spite. In my opinion, activists play an outsized role when it comes to encouraging people to act out of spite. To paraphrase C. S. Lewis, you can help someone choose hell or choose heaven. And too often, I fear activists help people choose hell. But as someone who likes to believe himself a person of good will, I recognize an obligation to reject spite. The person who chooses to act out of spite bears the ultimate responsibility for that choice. And I hope I choose wisely.
