Dear Coronavirus,
It hardly seems believable that a microscopic ball of genetic material wrapped in layers of spiky protein like yourself could be the cause of so much grief, bringing the complex global network of human civilisation down into an unprecedented halt.
I know that since you are, by definition, a virus – straddling that grey borderland between chemistry and biology – my attempting some sort of inter-species dialogue may well be an act of foolishness. But I cannot help but wonder, if such dialogue were possible, whether you might be looking at what you have wrought over the past few months with a sense of accomplishment or self-admiration.
You see, human beings have put great store and pride in the edifice of modern human accomplishments. We have tamed the seas, levelled the mountains, explored the darkest depths of the oceans, and have broken free of the persistent bonds of gravity to touch the face of a boundless expanse. Humans have built tall towers of gleaming glass and steel, turned our sandy deserts into oases of verdant green, and built our habitations in almost every known nook and cranny of this blue jewel of a planet. We have tamed bronze and steel and stone and glass, and fashioned them into every sort of ornament and device, including this iPad that I am writing these notes on. It is remarkable, looking at it: the marvels of human advancement and ingenuity.
But there is also increasing awareness amongst many of us, that these achievements, this singular human existence, has a worm living in its very core. We have purchased these wondrous gifts, at a steep price. Every day, humans excavate, devastate, and mutilate Nature for its seemingly-boundless bounty: we strip forests of their trees, we rid jungles of their animal inhabitants, so that we can build more houses and office towers and plantations and amusement parks. We mine the deepest ocean beds for oil to power our factories and our homes and our vehicles, sparing very little thought to the ways in which these activities poison the earth that we live on, in its emissions and spillages across our skies and oceans.
All this to keep human civilisation in motion: our automobiles constantly criss-crossing broad highways over hills and valleys; our investments in companies that fashion a myriad of widgets and baubles, and fulfil the diverse desires of humanity, from the most depraved to the most dignified. A never-ending parade of human comings and goings, in cities and countries that never sleep.
And suddenly, it all stops.
Cities in lockdown. Stock markets in free fall. Empty offices and factories.
We remain chained to our homes – still comfortable, mind you, with our Netflix binges and constant Whatsapp pings – but chained nonetheless. Economies measured in the billions and trillions are on the verge of seizure, gasping for breath, even as our fellow human beings, afflicted by a dreaded affliction – yes, you, my dear viral friend – that leaves the most vulnerable among us humans gasping for life.
I read today that viruses could evolve and survive for a long time – it seems the virus that causes oral herpes have been flitting around humanity for the past six million years!
As I was reading that, I wondered: how long have you been watching us, Coronavirus (the one that our health practitioners call “Covid-19”)? How long have you been silently observing us, just waiting for the time to pounce?
As it is, humanity is rallying back. We are being asked now to separate ourselves, to distance ourselves socially, to break the chain and flatten the curve, so that we may deny you, my dear Coronavirus, of the possibility of untrammelled procreation. For our most vulnerable to survive your sudden onslaught, we need you to die, to disappear, to run out of future hosts.
I am one of those people who believe that Nature is the work of a Magnificent and Almighty Creator. We are of those who believe that God “did not create the Heaven and the Earth and everything between them in vain.” (Quran 38:27)
We believe that everything – every single thing – from the largest of the planets in orbit, to the very smallest of living things (yes, even you, dear Coronavirus!) is a wondrous Sign of His Benevolence and Mercy. We believe that every rock, every plant, every animal, every living thing and inanimate object, sings praises to Him, at every moment in the history of Creation.
I believe – nay, I know – that you have been set upon us a test, just as so many other things in life are a test for us. Today, we struggle, we cry and we bleed, in a desperate effort to save our fellow human beings from an untimely end at your hands. We tremble at what you have wrought. And yet, for many of us, we are also reminded that your rampant virulence, your frightening ability to bring our most treasured livelihoods to a halt, are yet another reminder of His Awesome Majesty.
We know this, and we accede to His Power and Glory, in all humility. But it is not a signal for meek surrender. We will struggle, we will rally back, and we will beat you. It will be at great cost, as we are already discovering, but we will do it, and we will get it done.
Perhaps, when the dust has settled, and we have beaten you back into an existential corner, we may be able to take a longer and harder look at how we have lived our lives, and how we can bend that massive mesh of human existence towards a more humane arc; one that seeks to walk down the face of this earth with humility, which aims to live in true harmony with Nature and with our own selves.
I pray that day will come soon.
ZIAD HAFIZ BIN ABD RAZAK
Originally published in the Malay Mail.