The radical social distancing and stay-home measures in place around the United States to prevent the spread of coronavirus may save 2 million lives, according to new scientific research.

Bill Gates-funded researchers at the University of Washington, who are advising the nation’s governors and hospitals, forecast that COVID-19 deaths will peak at 81,000 if social distancing measures continue to be used.

The 81,000 does not include an estimate of second-wave deaths next fall and winter, but the University of Washington researcher says there won’t be a second wave of deaths in the fall and winter if community transmission can be stopped through current social distancing.

Is all of this good news?

“If you’re coming from that Imperial College study that found over two million would die, it’s good news,” said Christopher J.L. Murray, who heads the 500-person Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation at the University of Washington.

But, Murray added, “the assumption is we will keep in place social distancing measures, including school closures, non-essential business closures, and stay-at-home orders until the end of May.”

The forecast of deaths peaking in mid-April is similar to one by a modeler for the Centers for Disease Control, Ira Longini, professor at the Center for Statistics and Quantitative Infectious Diseases at the University of Florida.

Murray’s Institute received a $279 million 10 year grant from the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, and is one of the largest health care and disease modeling teams in the world.

The U.S. and state governments took dramatic action on coronavirus two weeks ago in part due to the findings of an Imperial College, London study.

The models used by Imperial researchers suggest that over 2 million people would die from COVID-19 in the United States if the disease were allowed to spread unchecked.

Won’t politicians feel pressure to end radical social distancing measures, such as by Easter, as President Donald Trump has proposed?

“We estimate a peak of deaths right around Easter,” he said, “After that, many governors will be very reluctant to have the risk of a resurgence. And if you stop social distancing too soon there will be a resurgence.”

Murray says he will update his model every day. “We were talking with one of a governor’s groups in a state last night where they had a big bump in deaths,” said Murray, “more than expected. And so we want our forecasts to reflect the new trends.”

“We are spending trillions on the economic consequences of COVID-19,” Murray said. “We should spend billions to protect against another shock like this, which means making sure we have a mass testing scheme so anyone coming into the country, anyone who is sick, and general testing of the public.”

Imperial’s model is different from Murray’s model, he explained. Imperial’s model is “like measuring the impact of a fire on a town if nobody changed their behavior—everybody would be burned in their homes—as opposed to how many would die if everyone runs away when the fire is coming. Some will still die but most people would change their behavior.”

“Our model is meant to be real-time,” Murray said. “We fit a statistical curve to the available data and to the variables that explain the curve, and the key variable is social distancing.”

I asked Murray if one model was better than the other.

“Both are legitimate,” Murray said. “The first model is a great call to action and super useful. But if you’re trying to help the hospital and fire-fighting service, you need our model.”

But hadn’t the Imperial model been too apocalyptic and alarmist? “There’s a value to apocalyptic alarmism because as we saw some places were slow to do anything,” Murray said.

“And there are still some countries that are slow to do much,” he explained. “I’ve been on the phone with political leaders in Europe who still don’t have stay at home orders because they are worried about the economic effects.”

Murray warned against ending social distancing too early. “If we get over the peak of deaths and people say we’re over it, and we end social distancing and get a second peak in May or June, then we’re in a long period of deaths and far more damaging.”

President Trump last week referred to himself as a “wartime president.” Indeed, a feeling like the seriousness of war hangs thickly in the air. We have the choice, though, to determine to rise up under these present circumstances, not simply to survive in these days, but to thrive.

We’ve all watched in astonishment the dizzying speed with which life in America has been canceled over the last week. People are feeling anger, fear, despondency, and increasing apathy in response.

Thucydides described a devastating plague in 5th century Athens that similarly infected people with an overpowering moral apathy. “Men now did just as they pleased,” he wrote, “cooly venturing on what they had formerly done only in a corner… Perseverance in what men called honor was popular with none… Fear of gods or law of man there was none to restrain them.”

We’re not quite there yet, thankfully. But still, while under quarantine from COVID-19, the temptation will be strong to turn to some sort of immediate comfort or numbing distraction.

In Italy, a giant pornography website gave away free subscriptions to Italians in areas affected by the virus. In California, Governor Gavin Newsom declared marijuana dispensaries “essential” and therefore exempt from the general lock-down order. People must have some way to kill time, right?

These new circumstances raise the all-important question to our attention: how should we then live?

Learning in Wartime

I was feeling dispirited the other evening and wanted to distract myself with a few episodes of a TV show. My wife reminded me, however, that we had decided to give up TV for Lent and to spend that time instead doing evening prayer.

I started to protest, arguing that circumstances had changed, that it was now unreasonable not to resort to such vital pleasures. She wisely suggested that, given the gravity of these circumstances, our sacrifice was even more important now than before the virus upended our lives. In vain, I searched my mind for a counterargument; she had me in checkmate.

As I begrudgingly acquiesced to her better reasoning, an essay of C. S. Lewis came to mind called “Learning in War-Time.” It was a sermon Lewis gave at a church in Oxford in that direst of years during World War II, 1939.

It’s easy to imagine how absurd it must have seemed to British students at that time to study philosophy and literature in the face of the advance of the Nazi war machine. Debates over the meaning of themes in Shakespearean plays don’t seem very important in such times.

Lewis acknowledged the temptation to think that all of life must revolve around the war. He likened this temptation to that of the overly enthusiastic religious person who assumes that, because the soul is of greater importance than the body, one should do nothing but evangelism.

In truth, though, as Lewis wrote, “Neither conversion nor enlistment in the army is really going to obliterate our human life.” “You are not, in fact, going to read nothing,” he continued, “either in the Church or in the line: if you don’t read good books, you will read bad ones . . . If you reject aesthetic satisfactions, you will fall into sensual satisfactions.”

Human life, in other words, inescapably includes choices, every day, and there are no neutral choices: every choice contributes to a habit and a character, for good or for ill. During times of difficulty, our choices are all the more important since difficulty is a crucible: it tests us and shows us who we really are. Suddenly, Shakespeare’s beautiful descriptions of the immense consequence of human choice seem especially relevant.

Living Well in Plague Time

Lewis noted three particular “enemies” that make learning in war-time difficult: excitement, frustration, and fear. Likewise, these are three things that make living well in plague-time difficult.

There is a morbid excitement over how many new cases of the virus are confirmed or how many new deaths are reported. There is a despondent frustration regarding what recent event has been canceled and what new restriction is in place. There is an enervating fear of what may happen to the economy and our health.

All of these may lead one to become fixated on the news or social media and apathetic about doing anything productive, healthy, or compassionate. There are more temptations now than normally to live poorly. Practicing moderation in regard to pleasures and pains and steeling ourselves in the face of potential pain—fear—feels less appealing than binge-watching Netflix, eating junk food, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and caring only that our own bodies avoid the sickness.

The irony is that there is more opportunity now than normally to live well because we will likely have more time on our hands and more occasions to help our families, friends, and neighbors.

Benjamin Franklin once observed, “The things which hurt, instruct.” These times of plague and financial depression are definitely going to hurt. We have the chance now to let them instruct us in the art of living well and, consequently, of self-government, but we must rise to the occasion to meet it, not sit down idly in apathy to endure it.

Lewis wrote: “The only people who achieve much are those who want knowledge so badly that they seek it while the conditions are still unfavourable.” Likewise, with us now, we must improve ourselves: we must exercise more, not less; eat healthier, not worse; read good books and watch good films, not pornography; we must pray more; we must be better neighbors if we would vindicate our claim to be a free people, capable of self-government.

Plague-time is the worst time to become worse versions of ourselves.

“When the world seems large and complex, we need to remember that great world ideals all begin in some home neighborhood.” —Konrad Adenauer

The coronavirus has triggered a disruption of ordinary life most of us would’ve considered unimaginable a few weeks ago. Some jobs have vanished as if by a cruel magician’s trick; others have mutated beyond recognition. Parents have become school teachers, while school teachers struggle to find how best to continue practicing their profession from behind computer screens.

At a time when our level of stress has increased geometrically, the resources to which we most often turn to rest and recharge have shut down—restaurants, bars, sports arenas, theatres, clubs, even churches. We’re worried that even the basic necessities of life will be difficult or even dangerous to obtain.

At the same time, however, something splendid is also occurring, something that happens in America when terrible events confront us: without being asked or directed by any official body or under the supervision of any organization, individual citizens are using social media and creativity to identify and address each other’s needs.

Take my neighborhood, for example—the Park West neighborhood of Montpelier, Vermont. Despite the upscale name, we’re a blend of families and individuals of diverse income levels, ages, talents, and needs. Some of us are elderly. Some are battling cancer, diabetes, heart disease, and more. Many of us have children, some with severe disabilities. Most of the time—very much in the tradition of Vermont—we’re private folks who keep to ourselves. But—again, very much in the tradition of Vermont—when our neighbors need help, we quietly and sincerely offer it.

A few days ago, a neighbor from a few blocks away sent an email to several of the people she already knew in the neighborhood, suggesting we develop a systematic way of looking after each other, letting our neighbors know what challenges we were facing and what kind of help we could offer. Within a few days, we set up a private group Facebook page and a listserv to facilitate communications. We have a private database providing our contact information and indicating what help we can offer or might need.

Members of high-risk groups now have someone willing to get them groceries or pick up prescriptions without endangering their health; folks on limited incomes don’t have to cut back on groceries in order to pay to have them delivered. The EMT and health care workers among us can find safe, familiar faces to keep an eye on aging parents and children while they’re busy taking care of others. Parents suddenly thrust into the role of teacher can swap ideas and strategies. Some of us have extra supplies to offer that can help others out.

People who didn’t know each other’s names two weeks ago are actively helping each other. One woman has, for a week, met students of a variety of ages on a quiet cross street every afternoon, taking them for a lively, half-hour walk, everyone keeping at a safe social distance. This not only gives the children much-needed exercise but also helps provide an atmosphere of normalcy that is important to preserve, especially for the young.

A Self-Governing Tradition

Such independent, self-organizing responses to the recognition of a local need are, and long have been, common in America.

During his tour of America in the 1830s, the French writer Alexis de Tocqueville was struck by what seemed to him a distinctly American trait—how neighbors banded together to solve problems rather than following the European model of relying on some established, centralized body to take the lead. In Democracy in America, Tocqueville observed:

Americans of all ages, all stations of life, and all types of disposition are forever forming associations . . . . Americans combine to give fêtes, found seminaries, build churches, distribute books, and send missionaries to the antipodes. Hospitals, prisons, and schools take shape in that way. Finally, if they want to proclaim a truth or propagate some feeling by the encouragement of a great example, they form an association. In every case, at the head of any new undertaking, where in France you would find the government or in England some territorial magnate, in the United States you are sure to find an association. I have come across several types of association in America of which, I confess, I had not previously the slightest conception, and I have often admired the extreme skill they show in proposing a common object for the exertions of very many and in inducing them voluntarily to pursue it.

An unforgettable example of large-scale, yet local, spontaneous organization is offered by the Cajun Navy, which set sail in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. On August 30, 2005—just two days after New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin ordered the city’s 1.3 million residents to evacuate—80 percent of the city was underwater, stranding approximately 60,000 people who’d been unable or unwilling to leave. Thousands of people were marooned by bacteria-laden floodwaters up to 20 feet deep, leaving citizens trapped, often on rooftops, without access to food or water.

With city, state, and federal rescue efforts initially overwhelmed, Louisiana State Senator Nick Gautreaux sent out a desperate plea through local television and radio, asking anyone who owned a boat and was willing to volunteer for this dangerous, difficult task to meet up at the Acadiana Mall in Lafayette. He prayed that a couple of dozen good people would respond. Instead, waiting patiently in the mall parking lot were more than 350 boats and their volunteer crews.

The danger these volunteers faced was extraordinary—filthy floodwaters filled with debris, horrid little islands of fire ants eager to sting, and poisonous snakes, not to mention terrified citizens who might mistake them for looters and shoot. “If you’re afraid of death, possibly you get shot or killed, then this is not a place for you to come,” Sen. Gautreaux warned. “And I will tell you,” he later told CBS News reporters, “there’s not a person that turned around.”

Ignoring government officials’ demands they abandon this wildly dangerous endeavor, the eight-mile armada of Cajun Navy vessels sailed by into New Orleans, where they saved thousands of lives.

Lt. General Russel Honoré, the Louisiana native who headed the federal response to Katrina, recognized the Cajun Navy for the extraordinary work they did as first responders in the wake of Katrina. “In reality most people are saved by neighbors and volunteers after a disaster than are saved by organized rescue people,” Honore observed.

Local Expertise Often Trumps National Intervention

Increasingly, the philanthropic world has come to share Tocqueville’s and General Honoré’s insight: that the most efficient and effective philanthropic efforts are almost always local in origin and focus. This is the antithesis of the assumption that governed most 20th-century philanthropy—that the larger and more centralized a charitable effort was, the better it would serve those it aimed to help because of its expertise in areas such as top-down goal-setting and supply chain management.

Clearly, some problems are best handled by governmental or large nonprofit organizations. But increasingly we are realizing that, for most problems, the assumption that bigger is better is by no means always the case. Because of their size, large organizations must be structured bureaucratically and rarely respond nimbly to dynamic situations.

Most importantly, however, centralized organizations lack the most precious resource local associations have—local knowledge.

Even the most gifted, experienced professionals coming into a new community will have a learning curve to become familiar with local needs and solutions. Local people come to local problems with an invaluable knowledge base of who in the community is most likely to need or provide help. We know who owns the local lumber yard and furniture store, who’s got a wheelchair they can spare, and where you’re apt to find people who have a few free hours and a willingness to help.

My neighbor began organizing our Montpelier Park West Group precisely because she had that kind of local knowledge. As a physical therapist, she’d worked with a number of us in the community, either through her private practice or through the public schools.

Today, the popularity of email and social media—especially Facebook—prompts an expansion of our definition of “neighborhood.” Many of us spend a good deal of time online, connecting and reconnecting with family and friends and, often, creating friendships and ties as strong as those we enjoy offline. It’s no longer unusual for us to number among our closest friends several people we’ve never “met” in the traditional sense but who nonetheless we have come to know through extended exchanges via email or Facebook.

When the residents of our online neighborhoods identify a need, we combine forces to address them using the technology that binds us together. Some of the help we provide is formal: we set up kickstarters to help each other defray the overwhelming medical bills of one neighbor’s brother or to provide another’s daughter with the funding she needs for a demo record to launch her promising career in music.

Online neighborhoods can also offer rapid, informed assistance in response to a common emergency. Just as my Montpelier neighbors are working together to combat COVID-19, so, too, are some of my online neighborhoods creating informal associations in a manner Tocqueville would find familiar.

Consider, for example, the current shortage of respirators for hospitals treating patients whose lungs the virus has attacked. Through Facebook and email, a friend with decades of successful experience as a bioengineer is combining intellectual forces with other field experts in an open-source project to rapidly develop such a respirator.

Tocqueville’s words again come to mind: “What most astonishes me in the United States is not so much the marvelous grandeur of some undertakings as the innumerable multitude of small ones.”