Systemic Failure

On my mind this week has been the difference between an isolated disaster and systemic failure. If a person’s house burns down, all their friends and family gather around to help them recover. Insurance comes in to (at least partially) help out financially. The victim can call on a wide range of local resources to help them recover and rebuild.

But maybe there’s a disaster on a wider scale. Almost a decade ago, tornadoes hit Joplin. Local systems were overwhelmed, so people came in from across the region to help out. The governor declared a state of emergency and deployed the National Guard. The devastation, measured in lives lost and property destroyed, left a scar on the city’s psyche.

Then of course there are bigger disasters, like Hurricane Katrina in 2005. This massive storm overwhelmed the entire region. Destruction stretched for miles across the region centered on New Orleans. “Safe places” were even destroyed. Victims were evacuated to the Louisiana Superdome, which then itself was damaged and became a center of danger. Race and class divisions were exacerbated. The disaster brought out the worst in people as they sought to take care of themselves. Resources came in from around the nation, but even essentials like fuel needed to be trucked in from miles away. The event had a long-term impact on the city, the region, and the way the nation plans for emergencies.

But we’re in uncharted waters now. What happens when the whole world is disrupted? Even during wars, some parts of the world remained (relatively) untouched. Now, every state in the nation, every country in Europe, and most other countries around the world have been impacted by COVID-19. We, as a nation and as a species, are ill-equipped to deal with such widespread disruption.

I’ve been listening to an audiobook of Guns, Germs, and Steel. I’m on the chapter now where he addresses complex human social structures. The most ancient structure is the band, which consists of essentially one extended family. Several bands comprise a tribe, several tribes comprise a chiefdom, and out of chiefdoms grow states. In a band or small tribe, there is limited economic specialization. That is, most people have similar jobs to do. As societies become more complex, jobs become more and more specialized, to the point where we completely rely on our neighbors to provide the things we need. It is no longer feasible for a modern city-dweller, even in such a small city as Rolla, to subsist on the resources available on their own property. We need the goods and services provided by our neighbors, near and far.

This crisis is revealing the fragility of such an interconnected world. It’s as if our whole modern society is a house of cards built on sand, and the tide is coming in. The genius of the Internet is decentralization–any one node can be taken out and the system can recover. But if you take out enough of the most important nodes, the network ceases to be the Internet, instead degenerating into a set of disconnected pieces. Our world has been revealed to operate the same way. Take out enough connections–in our supply chains, in our human interactions, in our freedom to travel–and the system collapses.

My only hope is that we will come out the other side with a new awareness of our limitations, and a new appreciation for the people who understand complex systems. The situation in Missouri, the US, and the world is going to get worse, probably much worse, before it gets better. But some day, we will be past the crisis and ready to put things back together. Let’s start learning how to do that the right way.

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In the class I’m taking right now, Pastoral Care, through the University of Dubuque’s CLP program, my week’s assignment was to write a psalm of lament. Mine isn’t great, but I offer it here for anyone who may find it useful. I will say that I’m not truly alone in an empty house; I have my son, Sam, with me.

Yesterday felt like a week, and this week felt like a year;

Everything has changed. Nothing seems certain. Fear permeates the very air I breathe.

I sit alone in an empty house, far from those I love.

Restore me, O God, to normal ways of life, free to follow my heart,

So that I may dwell with my wife, my children, my friends, and all your people.

I will no more fear, for your steadfast love never changes,

And this crisis will be but a blink of an eye in your eternal kingdom.