After finishing Albert Camus’s work, The Plague, I returned to the text to mark several sections of singular philosophical statement.  The segment chosen this morning is relevant to consideration of our post-covid-19 return to “normality”, the start-up of the economy.  It is unclear what economy will be possible.  Capitalist economies are marketplaces designed for high performance, maximization of profits, with little or no “play” or space between the moving parts.  (“play” between moving parts are gaps of grace)

Our economy does not function well at less than high speed, the greatest possible efficiency.  This design for efficiency shows in our language — ‘right sizing’ ‘down sizing, ‘off shoring,’ just in time delivery,’ ‘deregulating financial markets,’ etc.  Our system, — what we have created is a death-trap for many.  A calculated, winner-take-all efficiency is the desideratum of capitalism.

However the economy is at stasis, a condition of flat-line arrest.  Our marketplaces have been halted for a month. Will the old economy, the old way of doing business be revived?  Can it be?  Or something else?  Something better or worse?  Post covid-19 will call for improvisation.  What type of marketplace do you, do I desire?

Camus spent the world war II years in Nazi occupied Paris, exposed day to day to the possibility of capture, torture, and execution as a resistance journalist.  Camus knew from experience the potential for terror in the industrialized state.  Camus wrote for Combat the clandestine resistance newspaper, becoming its editor.  He fought for the liberation of Paris, words were his weapon.

These words written by Camus are a confession of personal principle by Jean Tarrou to his best friend Dr. Bernard Rieux, the surgeon and narrator of the story.  The conversation between the two friends takes place towards the end of the siege of the plague in the city of Oran.  Tarrou offers to his friend the story of his life, a narrative justification of his principled pacifism.  Most interesting to me, is Tarrou’s use of “plague” as a metaphor for the proclivity for violence infecting all of us, violence toward others of our kind.  (The emphasis in the text are my own.)

For many years I’ve been ashamed, mortally ashamed, of having been, even with the best intentions, even at many removes, a murderer in my turn. As time went on I merely learned that even those who were better than the rest could not keep themselves nowadays from killing or letting others kill, because such is the logic by which they live; and that we can’t stir a finger in this world without the risk of bringing death to somebody. Yes, I’ve been ashamed ever since; I have realized that we all have plague, and I have lost my peace………

Yes, Rieux, I can say I know the world inside out, as you may see, that each of us has the plague within him; no one, no one on earth is free from it. And I know, too, that we must keep endless watch on ourselves lest in a careless moment we breathe in somebody’s face and fasten the infection on him. What’s natural is the microbe. All the rest, health, integrity, purity (if you like), is a product of the human will, of a vigilance that must never falter. The good man, the man who infects hardly anyone, is the man who has the fewest lapses of attention. And it needs tremendous will-power, a never ending tension of the mind, to avoid such lapses. Yes, Rieux, it’s a wearying business, being plague-stricken. But it’s still more wearying to refuse to be it. That’s why everybody in the world today looks so tired; everyone is more or less sick of plague………

All I maintain is that on this earth there are pestilences and there are victims, and it’s up to us, so far as possible, not to join forces with the pestilences. That may sound simple to the point of childishness; I can’t judge if it’s simple, but I know it’s true. You see, I’d heard such quantities of arguments, which very nearly turned my head, and turned other people’s heads enough to make them approve of murder; and I’d come to realize that all our troubles spring from our failure to use plain, clean-cut language. So I resolved always to speak, and to act, quite clearly, as this was the only way of setting myself on the right track. That’s why I say there are pestilences and there are victims; no more than that.

The Plague by Albert Camus  P. 228-229

You didn’t think I would conclude without a tune did you?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Prr2ELuBhps

Devil Inside

Here comes the woman
With the look in her eye
Raised on leather
With flesh on her mind
Words as weapons sharper than knives
Makes you wonder how the other half die
Other half die

Here come the man
With the look in his eye
Fed on nothing
But full of pride
Look at them go
Look at them kick
Makes you wonder how the other half live

The devil inside
The devil inside
Every single one of us the devil inside

The devil inside
The devil inside
Every single one of us the devil inside

Here come the world
With the look in its eye
Future uncertain but certainly slight
Look at the faces
Listen to the bells
It’s hard to believe we need a place called hell

Lyrics by MICHAEL HUTCHENCE, ANDREW FARRISS