B ack in the spring of 2020, we each got a front-row seat to the wonders of the human capacity to cope with rampant uncertainty. Within weeks, people developed wild and unhinged beliefs about the virus, health care workers, their leaders and their countries.
Some rebelled and channeled their angst outward. Crime spiked. Protests raged across the world. Others turned inward. Suicides and depression reportedly skyrocketed. Anxiety ran rampant. People became burnt out and went stir crazy.
Others distracted themselves. Video games, alcohol, and drugs surged. Anything to “take the edge off.”
Pandemics seem almost perfectly catered to prey on humanity’s greatest psychological weakness: fear of the unknown.
It’s the rare occasion when everyone’s life gets sideswiped and we are forced to sit in a vast uncertainty for an extended period of time. How deadly is the virus? We don’t know. How long will this last? No idea. Are the drastic social precautions worth it? Maybe — maybe not. Are there effective treatments? Perhaps. Also perhaps not. Is the virus influenced by the weather, by genetics, by geography? Probably, maybe, and, uh… shrug?
Looking back, what’s amazing is that almost nothing said during those first few months turned out to be true. Everyone was so wrong… yet so certain.
