Wednesday, May 11, 2022

COVID Chronicles XXVII. Post-Covid (We can only hope) Moral and Morale Fallout.

 

COVID, Moral violence, Great Resignation, After Effects

I started writing these chronicles because of an NPR segment that noted that there was very little written about the 1916-1917 Flu epidemic that killed more people than the First World War.  The authors speculated that people were morally ashamed of their behavior during the epidemic.  They might have been ashamed of failing to help their neighbors who had fallen ill for fear that they would contract the disease.  I wanted to write about the experience of COVID to chronicle what occurred from one vantage point during a pandemic and to record that as the pandemic unfolded.

Despite having intentionally documented my experience of the pandemic, my memory of these times is spotty.  Time has taken on a fluid quality.  I have been called for jury duty this week – but don’t have to accept it if I have sat on a jury within the past two years.  It feels very recent that I was called for duty, so I thought I might not have to serve this week, but then I realized it couldn’t have been in the past two years because COVID protocols were not in place when I served.  While time has always been a little slippery for me, in this case it is as if the intervening two years didn’t happen, and what happened before is almost continuous with what is going on now.

As I speculated about the way time has become fluid, I began to wonder about whether COVID and the attendant isolation and uncertainty has led to massive regression among both the students and the faculty at my University.  This regression is similar to that of a psychoanalysis (or, in some cases, a marriage).  In a psychoanalysis, there is an intentional regression.  The analyst is both present – meeting four times a week – but also not present in certain ways, creating space for the analysand to immerse him or herself in their own thoughts and following them to wherever they might lead.  This, in turn, allows the analysand to feel more and more like earlier versions of themselves and as aspects of themselves re-emerge that can be examined (analyzed), the analysand can reconsider how to integrate those aspects of themselves into their current functioning.

During the pandemic, in an oddly similar kind of interpersonal isolation, regression occurred.  Our students came to class – at least they turned on their computers and, especially on the undergraduate level, they then frequently turned off their microphones and their cameras and listened and watched – or wandered off – frequently when I called on a student they simply wouldn’t respond.  The students also didn’t interact with each other before and during class the ways that they usually did when we were in person.  One of the characteristics that facilitates and is fueled by a regression is that our defenses become more and more relaxed.  Stuff bubbles up out of us – and we are more vulnerable to things around us, e.g. the influence of the analyst.  So it is important for analysts to be cautious as they work with patients in this vulnerable state.

In a Zoom meeting with faculty members from across campus to discuss the current bad morale on campus, we agree that the proximal cause is COVID.  But the distal seem to be related to a longstanding malaise that was simply brought to a headd by COVID.  In the meeting, an article was referenced that talks about moral violence as a lynch pin of morale issues.  This article was recommended by a faculty member and it suggests that when we feel complicit in morally compromising actions, we experience trauma – though I would add that this creates internal conflict and turmoil.

Often we think of things that are traumatic as things that happen to us, but we are also traumatized by what we do.  An extreme example is the experience of killing another human – something our veterans have often experience as traumatic and that is often as much or more the focus of treating PTSD as the experience of being powerless in battle.  Sometimes we fear what is done to us, but often we fear what we are capable of doing.

During the pandemic, when we were in this imagined state of regression and our defenses were relaxed, we were confronted by our institutional and cultural complicity in subjugation of other humans (George Floyd) and our complicity in the degradation of the planet (Climate Change).  Just as things are returning to “normal” we were reminded that we are warlike creatures who are capable of more immediate destruction (Ukraine).

At the University, I was first confronted with my moral complicity in institutional subjugation when I was hired and realized that scholarships are referred to internally as discounts.  They are then awarded to students who will improve our standing as an institution and other, less well prepared students pay more for a similar education but profit from the institutional prestige afforded by being in the classroom with the better prepared “discount” students when they graduate.  This initial complicity has been followed by being privy and complicit– both by virtue of serving in quasi administrative roles (e.g. Department Chair), also as a psychological consultant called in to various messes on campus over the years- and in various other actions on campus.

To be clear – being a faculty member is the best gig imaginable.  The admissions office lines up a cadre of students who arrive eager to engage with me about the things that I am most passionate about.  Could you ask for a better job?  Well, OK, if I didn’t have to do grading – if I didn’t have to teach the classes about which my passion is less intense – if I didn’t have to run the tenure and promotion gauntlets, but come on – I have academic freedom!  I have been able to research what interests me, to pursue analytic training, to teach others how to do psychoanalytic therapy and administer the Rorschach, and I have engaged with undergraduates about how the mind works – this is great stuff.

But I have also been witness to and infected by institutional pathologies.  Anxieties about survival.  Decisions that are expedient but morally questionable.  The Great Resignation is a sign of discontent on the part of the populace.  We have experienced our own version of that not just in my department, but I have experienced it in my soul, including by choosing to go back into the classroom to teach before it was safe to do that and by teaching in a split zoom room even though I knew that teaching was going to be largely ineffective.  And I think the morally questionable decisions are a significant aspect of that sense of resignation.

I remember the Dean telling me after a particular battle I lost as chair not to take it personally and that you win some and you lose some.  I understand this metaphor as it applies to sports.  There is a better team – or better player – on any given day.  He did not understand that I was seeing the battle not as something that was good for me if I won and bad if I lost, but something that involved right versus wrong.  The faculty in my department, and the students in their classes were going to suffer as a result of the decision.  I had failed to make this clear – otherwise why would the administration have made the decision that they did?  Objectively I don’t know that this was the case, but subjectively it certainly felt that it was.

How do we live in a complex, interdependent society where our membership makes us complicit in activities that we find morally repugnant?  What obligation does that put us under?  And what strain?  How can we manage to not know what we need to not know so that we can avoid paralysis that would prevent us from working on that which we can contribute to?  How can we, collectively and individually, work on restructuring the social order so that it works to our collective benefit?  We need to manage our individual anxiety in order to do that – we need to rely on a belief that we are working collectively towards the greater good.  We need, in a word, to have faith.  But we also, and here I hate to quote Ronald Reagan of all people, but we need to trust but verify that things are being attended to.

I think that people may have “forgotten” what occurred during the flu pandemic for many reasons.  I think just being isolated and taken out of the normal routine creates a kind of separate reality – and this reality is easily lost as the new normal moves back in.  We say, in effect, "It was just a blip – it wasn’t real".  But I also think that we may have been confronted, in both pandemics, with aspects of ourselves and decisions that we made that we would just as soon forget – to let the lost years be, from one end to the other, a forgotten couple of years.  Freud talked about amnesia for our earliest years that was based on our being uncomfortable with remembering that we are mammals with what are currently repugnant strivings.  In fact, infantile amnesia is more complicated than that, but we might apply his logic to our experience of the pandemic – and to our experience of other morally repugnant parts of our lives (our fear of how fragile we are), as things that are better forgotten.


 To access a narrative description of other posts on this site, link here.  For a subject based index, link here. 

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For other posts on COVID:
I:       Apocalypse Now  my first posting on COVID-19.
II:      Midnight in Paris  is a jumping off point for more thinking about COVID.  (Also in Movies).
III:    Hans Selye and the Stress Response Syndrome.  COVID becomes more normal... for now.
VI:    Get back in that classroom  Paranoid ruminations.
VII:   Why Shutting Classes Makes Fiscal Sense A weak argument
XIII: Ennui
XIV. Where, Oh Where have my in-person students gone?  Split zoom classes in the age of COVID.
XVIII.    I miss my mask?
IXX.      Bo Burnham's Inside Commentary on the commenter.


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