I did a double take when I read the headline—“Meridian woman arrested during protest after refusing to leave a closed playground.” Sure enough, forty-year old Sara Brady from Meridian, Idaho, refused to leave a playground that had been closed. She, and several in her party, intentionally went to the park and allowed their children to play on the plastic playground equipment that had been closed by the city. When the police showed up and asked them to leave, it turned into a confrontation that ended with the mother of two in handcuffs. She was charged with trespassing. (You can watch the video here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-B1qujVjNE)
What would drive a suburban housewife into an act of civil disobedience?
I’m a risk taker. I ride a motorcycle. I’ve been skydiving—twice. I fly airplanes. I have six children. I discuss politics on social media (sometimes). For me, a life without risk isn’t worth living. Risk is an inherent part of life. Death will come for us all at some point, but the life we live before that day is largely determined by the risks we take. If we spend all our days avoiding risk, then we haven’t really lived. Therefore, I take risks.
Like all of you, my life has been turned upside down by the pandemic. I have taken the recommendations seriously in my personal efforts to slow the spread of a deadly disease. I have canceled travel plans and avoided gatherings. My hands are chafed from washing and I wear a mask in public, without any embarrassment I might add. My list of home improvement projects has dwindled dramatically. Binge watching has become a new pastime. Drive-through restaurants are now fine dining establishments. Video conferencing with family and friends has replaced social gatherings. I’m alive and well, but I would hardly call this a life worth living.
When will we sit at a restaurant table with family and friends to celebrate a birthday, a wedding, or the birth of a child? When will we gather to watch a concert, a sports event, or a graduation? When will we gather to worship, to learn, or to simply have fun? When will we travel to see wonders of the world and connect with the people and places that help us feel connected to fellow travelers? When will we play at the crowded beach, the crowded park, or the crowded gym? When will we embrace our friends, our families, and our elderly?
When will we hustle to the office, the store, or the shop to accomplish the work that puts food on the table? When can we launch a new venture, large or small, that will fill the need in the marketplace and increase our personal wealth? When can we learn a new trade or skill that is in demand and increase our earning capacity? When will we restore the supply chain, the hospitality industry, and the travel industry? When can we invest in the market and expect a return for the future?
When will we take risks again? When will we live again?
No doubt, this disease is deadly, but if we allow this disease to bring our lives to a complete halt, then are we really living? Life is inherently risky. Part of living, truly living, is taking measured risks—driving a car, playing a sport, starting a relationship, taking a trip, flying a plane, getting married, having a child, or building anything. Any cure that causes us to stop taking risks has the potential to be more lethal than the disease itself. If we huddle in our homes in fear, we have stopped living already. Apparently, the suburban housewife from Meridian, Idaho, was willing to risk exposure to a disease (along with her children) and potential legal action to start living again.
The most dangerous argument out there right now is that we only have two choices—lockdown our society (and economy) or expose everyone to a deadly disease. We have boiled down a complex, multifaceted issue into a binary decision. The social media mobs on one side try to shame anyone less averse to the risks posed by the disease, or on the other hand activists try to shout down anyone who advocates for restricting gatherings or social interaction. Advocacy groups for each of the two camps are cranking out the memes. When Sara Brady was arrested she told someone to call the Idaho Freedom Foundation, an organization dedicated to promoting libertarian values and less restrictive government. Her arrest also sparked a fake news articles stating that she tested positive for the virus. Both sides dug ideological trenches and lobbed philosophical mortars. She was discounted as an anti-vaccination shill and lauded as a freedom fighter, depending on who you listened to.
This is not a binary choice. We have multiple options and just because we choose one course of action does not mean we are unable to adjust or change our course. We can certainly find a way to protect the public, ensure the rights of the individual, and minimize the risks. For us to live again we must stop thinking of this crisis as a binary choice. We can find alternative solutions that balance the risks and benefits.
Professionally, I am a risk manager. I’m charged in taking a machine into the sky several miles above the earth filled with passengers and bring them safely to the ground again. The risks involved are enormous, but I manage to do it several times a day without incident, because I have been trained to manage the risks. The FAA outlines four basic principles to risk management: 1) Accept no unnecessary risk. 2) Make risk decisions at the appropriate level. 3) Accept risk when benefits outweigh dangers (costs). 4) Integrate risk management into planning at all levels. (Pilot’s Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge, page 2-4) Perhaps we can apply these same principles to coping with this pandemic.
Accept no unnecessary risk. The other day I went for a run through a park and noticed a young couple making out on the hood of parked car. Clearly, they were not practicing social distancing. In the same park, groups of people gathered to exercise and share the same fitness equipment. I kept my distance and kept running. I’m sure you have seen similar examples of people ignoring the call for social distancing simply to satisfy a personal desire instead of a need. Sara Brady could have chosen to let her children play in the open area of the park and avoided the risk of exposure, and arrest. She could have avoided unnecessary risk. On the other hand, a distant family member working in the medical profession has been exposed twice to the disease because the risk was necessary for him to do his job. Sometimes risk is necessary. Each individual will define what is “necessary” risk differently, but avoiding unnecessary risk implies that some risk is actually necessary. For us to live again, we must learn to avoid unnecessary risk while taking necessary risk.
Make risk decisions at the appropriate level. This is where governmental agencies operate. We look to our government to help us determine which risks are unnecessary. Governments impose speed limits, construction codes, banking regulations, and a variety of other federal, state, and local laws determining the level of risk we are willing to take as a society. If I’m out riding my motorcycle, I can choose how fast I want to go, but if I break the speed limit, I know I’m taking on more risk, including the risk of a speeding ticket. The risk decision is ultimately left up to the individual. Similarly, governments have the power to order us to shelter in place or avoid gatherings to stop the spread of the disease based on the perceived risk. Based on my first amendment rights, I have the right to peaceably assemble and expose myself to risk of the disease, even if good reason keeps me from taking that risk at the moment.
Sara Brady felt otherwise. She, and those she supports, were protesting the overreach of government interference in their ability to manage risk at the individual level. The laws allowing for quarantine and lockdown are in direct conflict with some of our basic rights. If we abdicate our rights at the first sign of crisis, we really don’t have any rights. It is a balancing act between what is best for the group and the rights of the individual. However, we must push the risk decision to the lowest possible level. For us to live again, we will have to restore the rights, and risk decisions, to the individual.
Accept risk when benefits outweigh dangers (costs). Thousands die each year in car accidents, but that doesn’t keep us from getting in our cars and driving to work or the supermarket. We accept the risk because the benefits outweigh the dangers. Likewise, we make risk decisions based on costs, like choosing not to break the speed limit because of the high cost of a speeding ticket. Sara Brady accepted the risk of exposure and arrest because she felt the benefits outweighed the dangers (costs).
The cost of shutting down our entire economy will be staggering. Unemployment estimates look to be worse than during the Great Depression. Since the begin of the pandemic our unemployment rate has gone from 4% to over 20% with 33 million people out of work. Every one percent increase in unemployment will cause a 3.3% increase in drug overdose deaths and a .99% increase in suicides. “If unemployment hits 32 percent, some 77,000 Americans are likely to die from suicide and drug overdoses as a result of layoffs. Deaths of despair.”
(https://nypost.com/2020/04/14/we-must-count-the-deaths-from-shutdowns-as-well-as-from-coronavirus/) How do we plan on flattening that curve?
The dangers of this disease are real and the measures taken reduce the risk of exposure, but we are foolish to think our current course of action is risk free. We have chosen a path based on the perceived dangers and costs of the moment, but we have not properly assessed the other risks associated with our choice. At some point, the benefits of continuing this course of isolation and economic shutdown will not outweigh benefits. The price will simply be too high. For us to live again, we will have to accept the fact that the benefits of opening up the economy outweigh the dangers and costs of exposure to the disease.
Integrate risk management into planning at all levels. In other words, mitigate risk at all levels through proper planning. When we have to accept risks, we can mitigate those risks by planning and preparing to deal with them. I can plan to mitigate risk at a personal level by wearing a mask, keeping my distance, and washing my hands frequently. Businesses can mitigate risk through extra cleanliness, providing space for distancing, and allowing employees to work from home when able. Hospitals can mitigate risk by stockpiling personal protective equipment, ventilators, and medication. Governments at every level can mitigate risk by educating its citizens, providing resources to combat the disease, and preparing infrastructure for the next pandemic. The mayor of Meridian, Idaho, felt strongly that he was mitigating risk for his citizens by shutting down the playground. (According to current information, the virus can live for several days on plastic.) If we want to live again, at some point we will have to accept the risk, but we can prepare to manage the risk at the individual and societal level.
Instead of a binary choice, we have multiple options to start living again. We can find a way to safely interact without spreading the disease. We can protect those at most risk while allowing others to get back to work. We can continue to practice cleanliness and hygiene without cocooning ourselves in some underground bunker waiting for the end of days. We can risk interaction with one another using caution and measures of protection. This need not be a choice between two evils—complete isolation or the complete chaos of a pandemic. We need not arrest mothers at playgrounds.
When will we live again? As humans, managing risk is in our DNA. Risk is an inherent part of life. Managing those risks is the cost of doing business and actually living. I’m a risk taker, but so are you. I believe that if we follow a few sound principles for managing risk, we can find a way to manage the impact of this disease and continue living, because the alternative is not a life worth living.
I for one am ready to start living again.
