Arrogance has always been distasteful to me, but recent “debates” on this website and in the public arena about COVID have demonstrated a great deal of arrogance. Two categories, in particular, stand out: arrogance of the able/entitled and arrogance of the comparative young.
I will freely admit that I had advantages growing up, particularly being raised in an intact, caring, economically stable, and quietly disciplined family; being given the advantage of a good education by my family; and inheriting decent genes. None of these advantages were my doing, but those basic advantages gave me a far better personal foundation upon which to build a future and several different careers than millions of people who were born at the same time. This is nothing new. It’s been that way at least since the beginning of towns and cities.
The problem is that far too many people of modest or even greater accomplishment discount those basic but unseen advantages and claim, variously, that they accomplished what they have all on their own, or that others could do the same if they weren’t lazy, or that their superiority is innate. Yet study after study has shown that accomplishments are the result of a myriad of factors, roughly half genetic and half environmental, most of which factors we do not control, especially when we’re young. But too many people of “ability” and/or accomplishment, especially, disproportionately, Caucasian males, have the arrogance to assert or imply that the failures of those less fortunate are entirely their own fault, and, even if that’s not so, there’s no reason to help them or even try to improve equality of opportunity in society.
The other form of arrogance revealed in the COVID debate is the dismissal of older people, immuno-compromised people, and others who are not healthy young adults as not worth protecting because the length or type of life they have remaining is somehow less valuable.
I did a quick check of people who accomplished notable achievements late in life, and that list is anything but short, but I include some examples. Winston Churchill was 65 when he became Prime Minister at the beginning of WWII, and it’s doubtful that there was anyone else who could have done what he did (since every other leading British politician had already botched matters). Peter Roget created the first effective thesaurus when he was 73. Darwin didn’t publish On the Origin of Species until he was 50. Louis Pasteur was 63 when he developed and proved the effectiveness of his rabies vaccine. Rita Levi-Montalcini won a Nobel Prize for her discoveries about the nerve growth factor at age 79 and made additional significant discoveries for almost another decade. At 55, Pablo Picasso completed his masterpiece, Guernica. At 88, Michelangelo created the architectural plans for the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri. Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of the “Little House on the Prairie” book series, was 64 when she published her first work, Little House in the Big Woods. Benjamin Franklin was 70 when he signed the Declaration of Independence. Then, of course, there’s Stephen Hawking, who was anything but hale and healthy for most of his life.
The value of a life can be “measured” in many ways – by accomplishments, by character, by the changes in the lives of others resulting from one’s acts or failures to act, by the amassing of influence and power, but why are those, or other measurements, not applied to older, immuno-compromised, or disabled individuals, rather than considering them of less worth or consideration merely because of their age or physical frailty? Or is youth, which is so often wasted on the young, so much more important?
I certainly learned more from older teachers and older mentors than from those younger, yet many of the views I’ve seen expressed suggest that, rather than require a minimal effort of others, such as a vaccination, politicians and policy makers would rather subject older people and those more vulnerable to greater danger. And if those who suggest such an approach do succeed in establishing such a precedent, will they go “gentle into that good night” or will they “rage against the dying of the light” [of civility and care] when it comes their turn to be minimized or disregarded? [With thanks to Dylan Thomas].