Coronavirus Doesn’t Care About Your Rights

Last week brought the image of protestors across a variety of states rallying against social distancing and self quarantine guidance from local, state and federal officials. Reminiscent of the Tea Party protests of a decade ago (although noticeably smaller), protesters carried signs demanding an end to shutdowns, comparing political leaders to Nazis, and asserting their rights to shop where they want, get haircuts when they want, and spread a largely unknown, highly contagious, and potentially deadly disease as far and wide as they want.

Of course, right wing political leaders immediately latched on to these protests in a show of faux populism. President Trump himself could not resist the opportunity to take to Twitter and start all-caps tweeting things like “LIBERATE MICHIGAN”, as if the very federal government he heads up wasn’t at the same time properly encouraging shutdowns and stay-at-home guidelines. Then yesterday, Attorney General William Barr went on a radio show to declare his own opposition to shutdowns on potential legal grounds:

“Our federal constitutional rights don’t go away in an emergency. They constrain what the government can do,” Barr said in the Tuesday interview. “And in a circumstance like this, they put on the government the burden to make sure that whatever burdens it’s putting on our constitutional liberties are strictly necessary to deal with the problem…

“You know, the idea that you have to stay in your house is disturbingly close to house arrest,” Barr said in the Tuesday interview. “I’m not saying it wasn’t justified. I’m not saying in some places it might still be justified. But it’s very onerous, as is shutting down your livelihood. So these are very, very burdensome impingements on liberty, and we adopted them…”

Declarations of one’s absolute right to do as they please have been a constant refrain over the last few weeks as shutdowns and social distancing have increased. AG Barr echoes here much of the rhetoric, which is focused on rights language, and the concept of personal liberty. Speaking legally, none of what is being said is wrong, per se. You do have a right to do as you please. Granted, rights extend only as far as the closest person, and so at times, the government has the power to limit rights in order to promote a greater good, or in this case, to promote health and safety, especially among vulnerable populations.

But I don’t want to get into a legal argument here. I want to think more critically about the concept of “rights”, and the role they play in society beyond the legal arena. Because rights are, most essentially, the legal duties we have to one another. Rights are the necessary language of a society of mistrustful, anxious strangers, constantly assuming the worst in their neighbors in each encounter they have with one another. Rights are the way we ensure each one of us meets our legal obligations to one another and to society.

Rights, however, are not the way to build a community of trust and care. And in a time of crisis, that is the kind of community we desperately need.

The only way to defeat an epidemic is to trust that each of us have the well being of one another in mind, and that we will do what we can to care for those in need, whether they be sick, financially insecure, or worried about their business or endeavors in life. It requires more than the assertion that I have to right to do this or that thing, regardless of any other consequence. It requires me to see beyond my selfish rights, to see that this isn’t about me, but about all of us, together.

The automatic fallback of rights language is the language of a people who have forgotten how to care for one another beyond our mere legally coerced obligations. It is the sign of people who no longer have the moral imagination or vocabulary to create a community predicated on learning how to act with judgement and restraint, rather than with unrestrained consumption and self-fulfillment.

Stanley Hauerwas writes in The Work of Theology, “appeals to rights threaten to replace first-order moral descriptions in a manner that makes us less able to make the moral discrimination that we depend upon to be morally wise.” What he means here is that some situations require to think beyond the legal rights we are owed by the state and one another. Some situations aren’t going to be solved or made better by a deeper understanding of your personal right to do what you want whenever you want.

To put it mildly, viruses don’t give a damn about your rights. You can’t spout Constitutional truisms at coronavirus. You can’t sue Covid-19 into retreat.

Instead, we have to be able to set aside appeals to our rights to do certain things, and recognize the moral imperative of acting in a way that shows our values – namely, our concern for the vulnerable, for our neighbors, and for the good of a society that can in turn protect your rights in the proper arenas.

Because your right to do something doesn’t do you much good if we’re all dead.

The spread of coronavirus requires us to take extreme steps to protect ourselves and defeat it. Since it easily spreads through airborne particles, lays dormant for a period of time, doesn’t show symptoms in a large chunk of those infected, and is deadly to a wide range of people who get it, we must take the hard and costly step of limiting our contact with others until we know more about the virus, have widespread testing to tell who has it, and the ability to quash quickly and efficiently new outbreaks. We don’t have any of those things right now. So, social distancing is what is required. Yes, it is hard. Yes, our economy is going suffer. Yes, we are all going to be called upon to make sacrifices that seemed inconceivable as recently as two months ago. And yes, at times, you are going to feel that you are at unable to exercise your full suite of legal rights under our Constitution and our legal code.

But the alternative is so much worse.

Merely appealing to our liberty and our rights isn’t good enough. We have to think bigger than that.

Excerpts #3

The primary function of religious belief is not to describe the world or to determine the rightness or wrongness of particular actions, but to form a community that understands itself as having a particular mission in the world. To be sure, that mission involves beliefs about the nature of the world and what one should and should not do, but those judgments are mediated by the practices that have been established as essential to being a people of a particular sort. Put starkly, for the Christian the question of the use or non-use of in vitro fertilization will be determined primarily by whether such a procedure is appropriate to our understanding of what kind of community we should be and in particular what kind of attitudes about parenting we should foster. In other words, it is not a questions of whether in vitro fertilization is right or wrong, but a practical judgment of whether this kind of technique furthers or is compatible with our community’s understanding of itself. Issues such as in vitro fertilization are fundamentally symbolic in that they are primarily determined by the wisdom of a community.

Stanley Hauerwas, Suffering Presence: Theological Reflections on Medicine, the Mentally Handicapped, and the Church pg 143-44.

The Sanctity of Death

It is a mistake to assume that the “sanctity of life” us a sufficient criterion for an appropriate concept of death. Appeals to the sanctity of life beg exactly the question at issue, namely, that you know what kind of life it is that should be treated as sacred. More troubling for me, however, is how the phrase “sanctity of life,” when separated from its theological context, became an ideological slogan for a narrow individualism antithetical to the Christian way of  life. Put starkly, Christians are not fundamentally concerned about living. Rather, their concern is to die for the right thing. Appeals to the sanctity of life as an ideology make it appear that Christians are committed to the proposition that there is nothing in life worth dying for.

Stanley Hauerwas, Suffering Presence: Theological Reflections on Medicine, the Mentally Handicapped, and the Church, page 92

Considering the centrality of a “pro-life” ethos has become to many Christians today, this small passage from Suffering Presence really struck me when I read it. It did so because of the way this really strikes at some sacred cows on both sides of the left-right divide in American Christianity.

First, obviously so, this strikes hard at the borderline idolatrous way many conservative, evangelical and Catholic Christians have latched onto the “sanctity of life” as perhaps the driving force behind their political and social engagement as Christians in the world. Ever since the grounding of much of Catholic social thought in these terms in the post-Vatican II world of Pope John Paul II, the right to life has driven the priorities of millions of Christians, many them to a point that could charitably be called myopic at best.

On the other hand, in recent years, many of the Christian left have taken up sanctity of life rhetoric in a different form, in their certain insistence that this life is really all there really is, and thus, this life must take whatever form the bearer of life chooses at that exact moment, with no matter to tradition, morality, or any bounds of authority. Because the great hereafter is so unknown and uncertain (a claim I’m not denying at all), we must maximize this life for ourselves, right here and right now.

I like this passage because it makes the uniquely Christian claim that perhaps our culture is a little too enamored of life itself, at the expense of other priorities. Hauerwas reminds throughout the text that, for a Christian, life is not the Ultimate Concern of existence; rather, that Concern is God, and so our purpose becomes not to live life more fully, but to live life more concerned with what God demands of us.

In this upside down view, our faith – grounded in a Scripture that is too often held up as some users manual for how to live life well – is a way of being that teaches us what to die for, and how to do that dying well. The secret of life, in this way of thinking, is that we all die, inevitably, but we don’t all die equally. In the meantime, we should be living for things that might cost us our lives but, paradoxically, make life worth living well. We should be seeking some Good greater than that which can be contained in life. Because that is what we see in Christ: a God who does live, but who also dies, because death was ultimately less potent than the Love of God.