Equanimity in a fraught moment

Is staying calm in challenging times complicity?

In the past few months, I have written about how I am organizing my thinking in the context of changes being brought about by the new federal administration. While I have been clear about the importance of calling out cruelty, and have noted where I see federal actions risking or harming health, I have tried very hard to be open to new perspectives and ideas, recognizing that a new administration has a remit to do things differently, and that we should both give space for that and have capacious tolerance and generosity of spirit with respect to the motives of those involved in this effort. That has seemed the right approach to me and still does. I have, however, in the past weeks received notes from several colleagues that more or less ask, “How can you suggest that we should be open-minded, accepting, when we see terrible things happening?” and, “Are you not being complicit in allowing bad things to happen?” Inspired or informed by these challenges, I thought I would here address these questions — in particular, why I have tried to lean into equanimity in thinking and writing — and also address the perhaps uncomfortable additional questions: Is a measured, calm approach in the moment helpful, or does it verge on complacency? When is equanimity a moral virtue, and when does it slip into complicity with actions that harm?

Fundamentally, these questions must be understood in the present context of mounting, and extraordinary, pressures on scientific and educational institutions. Public health agencies, for example, have faced severe staffing and funding cuts in the past few months. Recent mass firings at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services — with reports of 1,000 to 1,200 NIH employees and about 750 CDC employees dismissed in one weekend — represent an abrupt downsizing of the country’s public health capacity. In total, as many as 5,200 HHS employees (including ~10% of CDC’s workforce) appear slated to lose their jobs as part of efforts to “streamline” government. Such cuts both challenge public health’s capacity to do its job and have created a climate of uncertainty and fear within the health community. At the same time, universities are facing threats to funding that can endanger their core mission, coupled with a number of proposals that can be construed as ideological interference. All of this creates a fraught environment. Scientists and public health officials feel under threat, with conversation emerging about an erosion of trust in expertise, a “chilling effect” on research, and the rollback of hard-won progress in public health and academic freedom. This is the backdrop against which calls for equanimity are being questioned. In such a charged context, emotions run high, and the default mode is often urgent activism or alarm. The stage is set for asking: Is calm restraint an appropriate response now, or does it amount to dangerous complacency? Is equanimity under such circumstances falling short of our moral obligations? Are patience and understanding tantamount to excusing wrong when it is being done?

There is a well-worn argument to be made that staying neutral or silent during moral crises effectively means siding with the status quo. Some of this was formally articulated by those who found themselves in positions of fighting against egregious injustice. Desmond Tutu, one of the key opponents of apartheid in South Africa, said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” Martin Luther King Jr. expressed his disappointment with the “white moderate” in his 1963 Letter from Birmingham Jail, in which he admonished those “more devoted to order than to justice,” who preferred “a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.” These critiques frame the person who counsels order, patience, or calm as obstructing needed change. They prod us to ask: At what point does advocating for civility and understanding become an excuse to avoid confronting wrong? If public health agencies are gutted or universities censored, is observing calmly and counseling equanimity abdicating one’s moral responsibility?

To answer these questions, we should start by acknowledging that, indeed, there are red lines that should not be crossed, and leaving their crossing unaddressed would make us complicit in measures we should oppose. Restraint and understanding are not absolute virtues in all situations — context matters. For example, if fundamental ethical principles, rights, or core values are being abrogated then silence or excessive restraint become morally indefensible. In such cases, not speaking up or acting would indeed make one complicit in harm. Karl Popper’s paradox of tolerance here is instructive. Popper argued that, “Unlimited tolerance must lead to the disappearance of tolerance”— that is, if a society tolerates the intolerant without limit, the intolerant will eventually destroy it. In Popper’s view, a tolerant, open society is justified in defending itself against those who would shut down debate and impose extremism. By analogy, limitless equanimity — never objecting, no matter what — can enable destructive forces. This suggests that a line must be drawn, that true equanimity can and should coexist with a clear commitment that says we will not tolerate the intolerable.

And yet, this is where it gets complicated. Because there is also a danger, and quite a bit of it, in reaction and overreaction. The truth is that not every conflict or policy we disagree with signifies the death of science or the end of the university. While some threats are real, others may be temporary setbacks. And if we are not honest about this, if we treat every issue as an existential crisis, we risk alarm fatigue and further loss of credibility with the general public. Too frequent dissent both diminishes our capacity to sound the alarm when a truly significant challenge arises and polarizes the conversation. By painting every budget cut as a foundational challenge, we are closing the door to discussion that can point to compromise. By regarding as beyond the pale debate about how much the government should subsidize administrative overhead or the degree to which universities are proving themselves worthy of being supported by the public purse — all legitimate areas for discussion — we risk further alienating both our critics and our potential allies and deepening the backlash moment in which we are living.

Equanimity is grounded in intellectual humility. This means recognizing that our own perspective is not always right and that our critics are not always acting in bad faith. Disagreement in academia or policy can be healthy. For example, a university adjusting its curriculum under public pressure, as we come to recognize that some approaches from the past decade may have gone too far, does not amount to an ideological purge, but may be a corrective that is reasonable and responsive to an evolving understanding of issues with which we need to grapple. This all points to the importance of balance. We certainly need to be vigilant about serious erosions of institutional integrity, but we also need to cultivate perspective, to not let the passions of the moment cause us to see all policy differences as existential threats.

Complementing philosophical writing and thinking, noted above, that centers the importance of action when it is called for, is a wealth of philosophy that makes the case for strength through equanimity. Foundational here is stoicism, an ancient Greco-Roman philosophy that prizes virtue and calmness in the face of hardship. Stoics such as Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus taught that we should distinguish between what we can control and what we cannot, responding with excellence to the former and with resilience when faced with the latter. The stoic ideal of apatheia (freedom from destructive passion) is essentially equanimity: the ability to sustain a tranquility or evenness of mind amid challenges. This does not imply indifference to injustice; rather, stoicism encourages acting in accordance with virtue (justice, courage, wisdom) without being consumed by rage or despair. The American pragmatist tradition, championed by philosophers including William James and John Dewey, adds another complementary perspective. Pragmatism suggests that ideas and ideals must be evaluated according to their practical consequences. In terms of social action, this means focusing on what actually brings about positive change for people, even if it requires compromise or patience. A pragmatist-influenced view values results over rhetoric. Equanimity is pragmatic; it encourages pluralism and open-mindedness and strategies that maximize making a positive difference in the world.

I take from all this that being equanimous does not mean one lacks passion or the will to fight; it means one chooses how to channel that passion. A Buddhist or stoic might say it means acting out of compassion and wisdom rather than anger. This approach requires discipline; it is often harder to stay calm and open-minded in a heated conflict than to echo outrage. Far from being a moral cop-out, equanimity is a virtue when rightly applied and well serves the philosophical adults in the room — those who can disagree fiercely with someone’s ideas or actions yet refuse to lose their own moral center or adopt reflexive opposition that serves no functional purpose.

At the heart of the moral quandary I am grappling with here is a reflection on why we critique and protest in the first place. I have previously written about this in the context of “What are we trying to achieve?” What is the goal of raising our voice? Is it primarily to assert our moral righteousness (to show that we are on the “right side” of history)? Is it to express anger and frustration? Or is the ultimate goal to effect positive change in a fraught moment, to save lives, to advance what is right? If our goal is to be lauded for visible moral positioning, we might value performative outrage and purity of stance over tangible results. On the other hand, if our goal is to actually deal with problems, a by-any-means-necessary approach sometimes (often?) suggests that being effective may require equanimity. An angry social media post might feel cathartic and earn applause from like-minded peers, but will it change a policy or win over undecided stakeholders? Or will it simply cause the public to view us not as the nonpartisan actors we claim to be, but as a political interest group, no longer worthy of the deference reserved for institutions that aspire to an ideal of ideological balance?

Critically, when I talk about equanimity in a fraught moment, I am not talking about inaction. Equanimity does not mean doing nothing. We can be calm and still aspire to be agents of change. Equanimity can enable a different mode of action — one that is deliberate, steady, and pragmatic. A pragmatic, equanimous approach looks for achievable steps. They may be, in this moment, quiet coalition-building or behind-the-scenes negotiation to preserve core academic freedoms, instead of the issuing of fiery public statements. Taking such steps requires keeping one’s cool, thinking creatively, and maintaining a commitment to incremental change as a valid, often necessary path, particularly in constrained circumstances. Epochal challenges — such as the ones we are facing in this moment — do not resolve overnight. Grappling with them requires persistence, patient advocacy, and small victories that accrue over time. Importantly, even when in the throes of a situation that we cannot change, equanimity allows us to bear witness. There is moral value in simply not looking away, in writing, in continuing to do our science, even in the face of — particularly in the face of — challenge.

I come back to where I started. In this troubled moment, I do not see equanimity as indifference, as shrugging at injustice or “being neutral” in the face of wrong. Rather, it is a stance of clear-eyed commitment. Equanimity means one sees the world’s problems without illusion or panic, and one makes an effort to face them with steadiness. Such equanimity requires moral fortitude, staying true to one’s values without being derailed by the emotional extremes that can undermine the long-term success of our efforts. In this way, equanimity aligns with the idea of integrity, which fundamentally should underpin all we do. Importantly, I think that we can be both equanimous and deeply committed to ensuring that we will emerge from the moment morally and intellectually whole. This takes a constant balancing act. Sometimes equanimity will mean listening when others shout; sometimes it will mean speaking up firmly but without antagonism. This balance is hard to strike, and one who tries to do so will always be subject to criticism from both sides; some will want firmer action, calling us complicit if we do not act loudly. Others may think any action is reactive, an exercise in “going too far.” But ultimately, I suggest, this balanced approach is ethically and practically worthwhile. It ensures that when we do take a firm stand, it will be for the right reasons and have persuasive force, and when we do hold back, it will be out of wisdom and not fear. An equanimous approach allows us to remain clear-eyed — seeing what is actually happening, acknowledging both dangers and non-dangers — and committed, choosing action when it is necessary, choosing patience when it is beneficial, but never choosing apathy. Such an approach suggests that we can embrace equanimity as a strength. It is my hope that by doing so we can endure the present storms without losing our moral compass, and we can build a future without burning out or tearing each other down.

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Also this week

New in JAMA Health Forum: our team examined support for the care economy among caregivers, non-caregivers, Democrats, and Republicans. We found support for the policies that sustain the care economy among all these groups. Thank you, Jennifer Wolff, Karen Shen, and Catherine Ettman for your partnership on this work, and Kate Miller for leading us.