Enduring the Coronavirus Epidemic: The Case for “Rational Alarmism”

By Michael J. Jordan

[This is my second dispatch from inside China's epidemic. A shortened version of this was published Feb. 25th, as an Op-Ed, by the global edition of China Daily. To read my first dispatch, Amid Coronavirus Scare, A Call for Empathy - From Both Sides - which was published on the CGTN website - click here.]

BEIJING – It was the American author Joseph Heller who famously noted: Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.

As the Coronavirus count continues to climb in China – already far surpassing the infections and fatalities of SARS – so many thoughts race through my mind. I’m an American living in Beijing, merely a guest of the Chinese. My early thinking oscillated between Should I stay, or should I go? But ever since, it’s centered on learning to cope with the newly renamed COVID-19 as a permanent presence in our lives.

But I won’t write here about how the epidemic has disrupted every aspect of “normal” life. Plenty of expatriates have already written insider accounts, about what it’s like to be here alone, or with children. (Like here, here and here.)

I myself touched on it, with an earlier commentary that called on both the Chinese and the international community to muster more empathy toward each other, amid this heightened fear of the unknown.

Instead, I’ll focus here on the psychological impact. Because, while the overarching focus of life in a time of coronavirus is naturally on how to protect physical health, I now appreciate the parallel challenge: how to preserve our mental health. Particularly, during the trials of extended self-quarantine, when holed up in your home. Isolated. As if under house-arrest, minus the ankle-bracelet.

I normally live here with my teenaged son, but he flew to see his younger siblings at the start of Chinese New Year – and he’s remained out of China ever since, now studying online like everyone else. Thank goodness. While I miss his companionship, at least I don’t worry about him being in harm’s way.

That said, if I put myself on the couch for some subjective psychoanalysis, none of my notions has been truly “paranoid” or “hysterical”: clinical terms that some too-cool critics among us lob a little too easily. They often do so with a seemingly helpful, but ultimately condescending, reminder: Yeah, but thousands and thousands die from the flu every year! So stop over-reacting, right? Other acquaintances have asserted, more absurdly: There’s more danger crossing streets, or of being struck by lightning.

In response, I’ve coined a term to describe my state of mind during the three-plus weeks of this epidemic: Rational alarmism. Meaning, I think it’s perfectly rational to be alarmed when you observe:

1)     The death-toll in China is already more than double all those killed by SARS, globally, in 2003.

2)     The number of reported infections here is already nearly 10 times the global SARS total.

3)     Some foreign experts have suggested that actual infections may be 10 times as high.

4)     A Harvard professor predicts that 40% to 70% of the world may become infected this year.

5)     Credible experts question the effectiveness of the flimsy masks available to you.

6)     Credible experts raise questions – and offer dueling theories – about the source of the virus; the date of the first outbreak; how many may have been initially exposed; and so on.

7)     Credible experts suggest the virus may mutate – with no vaccine yet available.

8)     Entire cities are quarantined, with millions of denizens virtually branded with a scarlet-letter.

9)     Your own embassy evacuates compatriots from the epicenter, Wuhan, and suggests to the rest of us that we “consider departing.”

10)  Profit-driven foreign airlines shut down flights to China – not for weeks, but for months.

Confronted by these bits of circumstantial evidence, perhaps you’d become a rational alarmist, too? If not, plenty of psychologists presume you wouldn't be immune to its "insidious effects," somehow. As one writes, “When a risk is new and we don't understand it, that lack of knowledge leaves us feeling powerless to protect ourselves.”

The phenomenon of quarantine, writes another, “is by definition associated with perceived loss of control and a sense of being trapped, which will be heightened if families have become separated.” As for kids, a third makes the case for why we should be “open and honest” with them.

Now, just because I’ve been in this state of rational alarmism for several weeks, I don’t want to give the impression that every waking hour is consumed by this unpleasant reality. To distract myself, I stay busy through work, exercise, Netflix, or by what I’m doing right now: Writing as therapy.

There’s also the vital role of family, friends and colleagues, as a source of solidarity, camaraderie, commiseration, even comedy. I’m not fluent in Mandarin, but a Chinese friend from Hubei Province – the broader epicenter of the virus, where some 60 million Chinese live under lockdown – tells me about all the funny videos emerging from Hubei, then circulated among hundreds of millions, nationwide. Seeing such resilience in the face of adversity, she says, “Makes me feel proud to be Chinese.”

I contribute some dark humor, too, whether by blowing “contaminated kisses” to my family back home, via video, or bragging how I’ve become skilled at “dodging droplets of virus, Matrix-style.” No, they don't laugh along.

The crisis has also lent me needed perspective, as I appreciate more of the little things in life. The other day, I watched on TV as an American analyst in Washington commented on how the virus might affect China’s foreign policy. Surrounded by Chinese colleagues – all of us obscuring our faces with surgical masks, with the loose fibers in mine incessantly tickled my nose – I pointed at the mask-less analyst: “How lucky he is! Remember the good ol’ days, when we could breathe freely?”

Meanwhile, I’ve identified at least one huge distinction between how the Chinese are coping, psychologically, versus expats like me. While their entire nation experienced this trauma, they’re also “at home,” among family – whether under the same roof, or miles away.

Speaking for myself, going through it alone in my apartment, it’s one thing to receive the occasional support of family from afar. With something like: How’re you holding up over there? Stay strong!

But since I decided to stay, I’ve discovered an additional source of stress: the emotional burden I’ve foisted upon the psyche of others. Namely, my elderly parents, doting sister and beloved brother-in-law. To summarize their comments: Why’re you still there? Are you crazy? Look at what you’re doing to us!

I know they express this out of love and concern, as well as that dreaded fear of the unknown. Yet even when The Rational Alarmist preaches his gospel, it seems to have no effect on them. But I’ll keep trying. For their well-being, as much as for my own.

Michael J. Jordan is an American journalist based in Beijing since 2015. Over the past 25 years, he’s worked as a: Foreign Correspondent, reporting from 30 countries; Global Communication Consultant, in Africa and China; and Visiting Professor of International Journalism, teaching at some of China’s finest universities, in Beijing, Shanghai and Hong Kong.