Concerning The Coronavirus

     The reaction to this new disease that gets the most air time and column-inches has been hysteria: a pseudo-panic more appropriate to a potentially world-ending event – and I have a sneaking feeling that it’s mostly a media artifact.

     Nevertheless, I’ve been seeing emissions such as this one rather frequently:

     Such recommendations, to my mind, are more dangerous than the Coronavirus itself. To follow it in its entirety would be to abandon society, personal affection, and all external involvements in the name of germophobia. Among other things, it would result in a severe reduction of economic activity – and a healthy economy is one of the requirements for maintaining a healthy population. Contrary to a lot of Leftists’ opinions, medical products and services do not grow on trees.

     One respondent said that “some temporary adaptation to environment may be necessary.” If we were talking about the Bubonic Plague, I might agree – and the response that physician recommended would be more appropriate. Indeed, it would be near to mandatory, especially for anyone with dependents. But this is a flu-like virus that has a mortality rate (reported) of about 5% — and apparently that mortality rate is skewed by age and other factors. So an "adaptation to environment" that amounts to huddling behind a locked door strikes me as excessive, and probably worse for us than maintaining a reasonable facsimile of our usual affairs.

     For some reason this puts me in mind of a passage from Steven Brust’s The Phoenix Guards:

     “Let me tell you a story,” Aerich said.
     “Ah,” said Tazendra. “I should like to hear a story.”
     “Well then, here it is. Once there was a young man of the House of the Lyorn. He was raised in a proud family, and brought up in all the ways he ought to have been. That is, he was taught history, poetics, philosophy, sorcery, swordsmanship, penmanship, and the thousand other things necessary for one who is to rule over the lands and vassals he will someday inherit—for he was the eldest child, in fact, the only child of this family.”
     He paused to sip his tea. Khaavren thought he detected an odd tremor in the Lyorn’s hand. He said, “Pray continue, good Aerich. You perceive we are all listening most adamantly.”
     “Well, it so happened that at just about the time this gentleman reached the age of eighty—that is, well before, by the custom of his House, he was considered to have reached maturity—his father became involved in court politics. To be precise, he was called in by His Majesty, Cherova, for advice on settling matters with the King of Elde Island, whose name, I regret to say, escapes me.”
     “I think it is not important,” said Khaavren. “Please continue.”
     “Yes. Well, a certain individual, also of the House of the Lyorn, had, until that time, been advising His Late Majesty on the subject, but m—, that is to say, the young man’s father proved more able to conduct negotiations.”
     “Well,” said Khaavren, “it would seem that this would be all to the good.”
     “So it would seem, good Khaavren. Yet there are times when it is dangerous to succeed where another fails.”
     “Ah. There was jealousy?”
     “You have it exactly,” said Aerich. “And not only jealousy, but the power to act on it. The discredited advisor was not above using subterfuge and hiring known thieves. It began to appear as if the successful advisor were unscrupulous. The evidence mounted until, driven to distraction, the gentleman began to fight back in ways he would never have thought himself capable of using. Of course, this was discovered, and, in less time than one would have thought possible, the successful advisor became the discredited one, and, furthermore, all of his lands were taken and he died a broken, penniless man, leaving his son trained to rule a fief that was no longer in the family.”
     Khaavren studied his friend for some moments, then said, “And the unscrupulous advisor, could his name, perhaps, have been Shaltre?”
     Aerich stared at him coldly. “I have no idea to what you could be referring. I was telling a story, to illustrate a point.”
     “And the point, good Aerich?”
     “The point is that it is sometimes dangerous to meddle with those who have fewer scruples than you do; you may lose more than your life. You may lose a stake you didn’t know you had set onto the board.”
     “And yet, good Aerich, was the Lyorn wrong to have done what he could for the Empire?”
     “Ah, as to that, I do not say. I merely bring up a matter for you to consider before you dive headlong into danger of an unknown sort, from an unknown quarter. We have no worry for our lives, after all; they have belonged to the Empire from the moment we took our oaths. But what are we prepared to risk, my friends? Surely this deserves some consideration.”
     As he spoke, Khaavren felt a sudden chill, as if, in the winter, a window had been left open and cold air, unmistakable in feeling yet indefinite in source, had touched the back of his neck and sent its tendrils down his spine. He sent a glance at Pel, who was frowning and staring at the floor.
     Tazendra, however, said, “But consider that, if we do nothing, we are giving in to fear of the worst sort—the fear of unknown dangers. We may scorn a man who runs from a battle he cannot win; how much more should we scorn a man who runs from a place where he thinks there might be a battle that perhaps he cannot win?”
     Khaavren stirred. “I think our friend the Dzur has the right on this, good Aerich.”
     The Lyorn sighed. “Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid I agree. And you, good Pel?”
     The Yendi made a dismissing gesture with a wave of his hand. “We are young, we are brave, and we are four together. If we let fear direct us now, what will we do when we have lived a millennium or two, and know the full measure of terror? We will be afraid to throw a stick in a river, lest we be splashed by water that has somehow been poisoned. I agree with Tazendra.”

     Judicious fear can be useful: protective, sometimes even a spur to personal improvement. But unreasoning fear, fear of something not yet demonstrated to be a significant threat, is the opposite. Consider the way the Left and the media (BIRM) have relentlessly worked to spread a fear of firearms among naive Americans, and to discourage them from learning more about them and the enthusiasts who own them.

     Think about it.