10 seconds

On creating space for reflection about the right response to tragedies.

We are all aware of the deeply challenging time we are in for the world at large, and in particular for our friends, loved ones, and colleagues from the Middle East. I recently wrote about my thoughts on the Hamas attack on Israel. My thoughts in this prior writing, and since, have been shaped by conversations with colleagues, staff, students, faculty, alumni, in person and online. I have found all conversations thoughtful, condemning the brutal killing of civilians in Israel, while also with honesty recognizing the horrors faced by Palestinians for so long. For these conversations, I am immensely grateful.

As the Hamas-Israel war progresses, and I have continued to engage in these conversations, I have realized that much of what these discussions have addressed intersects with themes I have discussed in The Healthiest Goldfish. Centrally, these include the importance of elevating conversations that are compassionate, respectful, open to all perspectives, and reasoned in their pursuit of truth in a complex, at times chaotic and uncertain, historical moment. With this in mind, I wanted to reflect a bit here on continuing to shape a conversation that reflects these qualities, an effort that is particularly necessary in emotionally charged moments of crisis. In grappling with a moment when there is much heat, and much less light, how can we engage in a way that lives up to our responsibilities in public health? Let me here offer four thoughts that emerge from this moment but that perhaps also have valence for all matters we deal with that require a thoughtful engagement in difficult times.

1. Our lenses and biases. We see the world through our particular lenses. I have written about our biases before. In the context of the current issue, we must ask: do we elevate one tragedy over another because of our personal relationships? Of who we care about? Of what is close to us? Of what is closer to our own culture? Do we see the world through an expansive lens where what unites us is our shared humanity rather than through notions of identity or religion? Do we care more about an earthquake in Italy than about one in Afghanistan because we have visited Italy? Do we not think about the massacre of the Rohingya in Myanmar because we do not know anyone who is Rohingya? These are horribly difficult questions, and I do not pose them because I know the answer, nor because I would ever pretend that I am able to see beyond these biases in my own thinking and writing. But it seems to me that it is critical that we acknowledge our biases in all we do, and we should do so when approaching difficult moments, when our care for others, our commitment to our shared humanity, is sorely tested. Before we speak or tweet, we should pause to ask: is what I am about to say true, is it helpful to the goal of making the world better, not worse? Does it go towards our goal of uniting rather than dividing? And does it bring solace to those who are in pain, or does it cause further hurt?

2. How we get our information. The rise of social media as a means of communication over the past 15 years has been extraordinary. This has had enormous implications. Social media, as has been amply noted, rewards rapid engagement; likes and followers come from inflammatory comments. Divisive statements build followership, efforts to grapple with nuance and complexity do not. I always fear writing on this topic. My aim is not to rail, luddite-like, against a technology that has had so many positive effects, that has democratized information sharing, that has given a voice to so many who previously were kept out of the conversation by gatekeepers with their own lenses (see above). I like to think I am far from reflexively against these technologies. I was an early adopter of twitter (now X) in the academic space, have maintained an engagement on a number of platforms, and encourage us all to do so, as a means of being part of the broader conversation. But this requires the full inhabiting of our task of using these tools responsibly, to recognize that with the power of reach comes responsibility for creating content that is thoughtful, not harmful. A recognition that when we say things too quickly there is a higher chance of us being wrong, and of us sounding far surer than we should. This recognition should inform how we communicate always, and particularly when any thought in any moment can be transmitted and become not only part of the permanent record, but also can add hurt, pain to so many.

3. On ideology and belief vs. logic and reason. One cannot help but feel that much of what is coloring the divisions of the past decade, playing out today in the context of the Israel-Hamas war—stopping an honest and clear reckoning with the horrors wrought on Israel, while simultaneously recognizing the horrors that many civilians in Palestine are now exposed to—comes not from a place of reason and balance, but from a place of belief. We should be clear that it is theocracy that has historically inflamed much of the conflict that is currently ablaze in the Middle East, belief in fixed and punitive gods who purportedly have no forbearance for others who do not believe in those gods. I refuse to accept the premise of this type of theocracy. And while we should reject theocracies (religious or secular) that impose on their populations so much hardship, we should also have the humility to recognize how much it is belief—even when not expressly grounded in the notion of a god—that guides how we have been thinking. We believe in the rightness of our positions, we believe in certain tenets of progressive thought, or conversely in tenets of conservative thought. We believe because we are told to believe, because it is comforting to believe, or because we are just used to believing. And that is wrong. Yes, we should have clear moral frameworks that guide what we do, I have written about that extensively. But part of those frameworks should surely be respect for our shared humanity and for the autonomy of each individual, and that should, definitionally, leave space in our hearts and minds for logic that is shaped by new data, for reason that emerges from looking at the world anew through fresh eyes, for being able to recognize that human suffering is human suffering, whoever experiences it, regardless of our ideological orientation and allegiances. How much of what we write and say is because we believe it to be so, as opposed to because we have analyzed the data carefully and think it to be right? How much of our relationship with others is based on taking a step back and grounding these relationships in what unites us rather than in differences layered on by groups that segregate us?

4. On seeing a world that does not exist. My fourth point may be the hardest. How much of what we say and think and write is grounded in some notional world that simply does not exist? I note that aspiring to a radical vision of a better world is important, critical, valuable, and I have written about that. But it is simply not helpful, for example, to pretend that it is possible to have an easy solution tomorrow that would solve all problems in the Middle East, and even worse to ostracize anyone who feels differently. Why? Because the world is built on structures and forces that have much invested in a status quo, and any abrupt change is going to be met by fierce resistance that will defeat any effort at change at all. A solution has not emerged readily thus far largely because there is no easy solution. That is why I have argued for radical incrementalism, a way of, yes, envisioning a better world but doing the hard work of bringing people along to actually get there. I realize the criticism of this, that doing so is somehow accepting injustice in the short term. But I challenge us to ask—what are we trying to achieve? If what we are trying to achieve is statement-making, achieving applause from our in-crowd by wrapping ourselves in an impractical but compellingly radical vision, that is one thing. But I would argue that is not what we should aspire to. We should aspire to genuinely create a better world, as quickly as possible, while recognizing that that is achieved through bringing people along, not through alienating them through extreme pronouncements that shut out the many who see the world as it is. In the context of the current conflict, what we are seeing exists against a backdrop of deep historical injustice, theological and geographical disagreement, ample blame and guilt on all actors involved, and it is that world that exists, and any solutions, any judgement about events must take all this into account, because this is the real world, the one we live in, that we have a responsibility to make better.

I conclude with the title I have given this piece, 10 seconds. Why 10 seconds? It has emerged in the past couple of weeks that amidst the unfolding tragedies, so much division is sown by intemperate comments, many of which would probably be reconsidered through when we step back a moment from the flame. I suppose I hope that as the times get even harder we can take a pause, 10 seconds, before we say anything about issues of core importance. 10 seconds to pause, reflect, and only then engage, having reminded ourselves of our goal to do so with compassion and empathy in all conversations, particularly the ones that color such a difficult moment.

As I have previously noted in this space, I have a new book being published in December, called Within Reason: A Liberal Public Health for an Illiberal Time, that tackles some of these issues on a larger scale around public health more broadly. Its aim is to help shape a conversation where we indeed speak and act from a place of thoughtful reflection, a place from which we have, as a field, at times strayed in recent years. I look forward to readers engaging with the book, even though I expect that some may disagree with me, and I look forward to learning from those disagreements.

Thank you to all members of the community of writers, thinkers, and doers who are interested in the health of the public and who are working hard, every day, to take those 10 seconds, to get us to a goal of being better at who we are, what we do, towards our aspiration of building a better world.

A version of this essay was originally published as a message to the Boston University School of Public Health community.