What Could Be Worse?
I’m sure most of us have heard by now that the timeline for physical distancing—I agree with Al Roker that “social distancing” is an infelicitous phrasing—has been predicted to last as long as 18 months. Ye gods, what could be worse?
Now I’m reminded of Walter Lippmann’s ever-auspicious turn of phrase, “The experts themselves are not in the least certain who among them is the most expert.” Public Opinion, in which that quotation is found, goes on to say a whole lot more. But that phrase is the one that has stuck with me for near a decade.
I don’t invoke Lippmann to deny the eighteen-month window. It’s an estimate, and those making it possess better understandings of epidemiology than I do. (This engaging piece in The Athletic explores in part how people do invoke the spirit of Lippmann’s quote for their convenience.) I am, however, cautious in my appraisal of that updated timeline. It is a presumptive defeasible generalization—that is, expert predictions are subject to updating as new information comes in, which is the best we can do in the case of a novel disease. In a case like this, I certainly prefer their insights to my armchair ones. Because the predictions are based on information-as-they-know-it, and novel diseases are by definition novel, I won’t be surprised if the predictions are updated.
It’s worth noting, however, that the predictions can also change as different experts are brought in. I’m not claiming that “everyone’s an expert,” though I’ve met a few of these expert types recently. I’m noting that different individuals may be consulted with as their expertise better intersects with the day-to-day understanding of coronavirus and COVID-19. And as a reader and consumer of these new experts and their insights, I’ll keep Lippmann’s phrase about experts in mind. (I’m still mulling over this Alan Jacobs’ piece exploring “what experts can know and what they cannot”)
But the predictions and experts aside, did you observe that a book I read years ago remains resonant with me to this day? And it’s not a favorite book by any stretch. And I read it the first time primarily because I was hunting for well-regarded books whose copyright had expired, as I required excerpts for the reading comprehension app I was building at the time. That is, my original read wasn’t intended for personal edification…
Returning to our predicted eighteen months of physical distancing, I’m also reminded of an old rhetorical trick: state something as being far worse than it will be, and then when it’s not nearly so bad as the prediction, people are less angry about however bad it was. It’s a variation on the old business adage: “underpromise and overdeliver”. If our own expectations are reset to 18 months, well, a month or two of holing up at home will seem a lot less worse.
I don’t think anyone’s stating the eighteen-month window simply to make us feel better if things settle down sooner. In fact, I think it’s prudent to let people know worst-case scenario. Can you imagine if this turns into a year-and-a-half ordeal and the experts had papered over that possibility?
Even so, I do think the release of these eighteen-month projections has not been done in ignorance of managing expectations. The gap between two weeks of physical distancing and hunkering down until September 2021 is a chasm to the imagination. And for most of us, not merely that.
As I’ve been considering how bad things are, how bad they might be, I’m reminded of an old rabbinic folk tale, “What Could Be Worse?” The telling I remember best, and still think the best crafted, appeared in Parade Magazine in the mid ‘90s. Back then, my family’s Sunday paper had Parade Magazine as an insert, and within its weekly pages was one short story, typically a folk or fairy tale. For people who couldn’t wait for the next issue of Cricket Magazine to appear, this weekly story was the best. And since the stories were only two pages, front and back, they were unintimidating for young readers.
My family cut out each weekly tale, placed them in plastic cover sheets, and turned them into our own compilation of stories. “What Could Be Worse?” remains with me, and I even use it with students on occasion. There’s a lot to the story, and I think it’s one worth telling and retelling in our present moment.
I couldn’t find the old Parade Magazine version online, but after doing a healthy dive through search engines I’ve found not one, not two, but THREE versions of the tale for you. The first is a solid retelling. Read it aloud! The second is a YouTube reading of perhaps the most famous picture book retelling, Margot Zemach’s pictorial delight. (Seriously, the images are hilarious. Do wait until after you’ve read the first version for this one, though!) And the third is a dramatic retelling with orchestra, also available on YouTube. This last might be the best of the bunch. Grab some hot cocoa or tea, and settle in for these three.
A thing I love about folk tales is that they aren’t just for the youth. They can speak to us at any time. Sometimes, their narratives can seem too contrived, too simple. Other times, they seem to frame matters just so. I think this is one of those other times.
Because some of you are reading these along with younger audiences or might just want to discuss this story with those around your dinner table, I have some excellent discussion guidelines from Teaching Children Philosophy. Those questions are appropriate and engaging for kids from three to ninety-three. Beyond those questions, you might ask the following ones:
Were these the same story or different stories? (Staying with the philosophy theme on this one)
How did the stories differ? How did they stay the same? (In another retelling I remember from my childhood, there’s a wise woman instead of a rabbi)
Which story did you like the best? Why?
If you wanted to do a retelling of this tale today, how might you set it? Should we try crafting one together? What images could we include? Should we draw them? Could we tell the story with LEGOs or blocks or (well-rinsed) plastic and cardboard that were all set for recycling? (If you do any of these, please send me a message letting me know what you created! Videos and pictures more than welcome.)
Since we are living in our own time where right now it seems like everything is “the worst,” how might we consider our own plight? What might the rabbi from the story have us bring into our own homes and lives? Without exploring all manner of horrors physically—e.g., please don’t invite the neighborhood wildlife into your home; mine has already been invaded by such domicile seekers, and I can attest that they aren’t preferred houseguests—how might we imaginatively think through “the worst”? Are we truly there? If not, why might it feel so?
You don’t have to tackle all of the above or linked-to questions in a single day. Stretch them out. We have a few days over which we might retell and reconsider “What Could Be Worse?”
Happy reading to you all,
Kreigh
P.S. If you’re interested in reading Walter Lippmann’s book, perhaps a good one in our times, you can read it for free as either ebook or audiobook!
P.P.S. In my hunting for a good retelling of “What Could Be Worse?,” I found two other treasuries of tales: Yiddish Tales translated by Helena Frank and Folk Tales from the Russian retold by Verra Xenophontovna Kalamatiano de Blumenthal. I’d suggesting starting with the shortest tales from each collection. And if you aren’t reading to yourself and happen to have some younger ones listening in, the Russian folk tales include a few pictures, which may help to grab their interest…