Freedom of thought is a hallmark of Stoicism, critical to a fulfilling life in the modern age. We absorb an enormous amount of information every day, but we must not let others’ opinions substitute for our critical thinking skills. As the death count continues to climb around the world, we remain in a state of shock, trying to adapt to our new normal. A pandemic of such scale in our time devastates lives, and instability causes us to be prone to emotional responses and simplistic storylines. However, it is precisely in times such as this, we need Stoic values and commonsense rationality to deal with losses and anchor us to reality. We must ask the right questions now.

On April fourth, 2020, the Chinese government held a national day of mourning for those who died on the front lines of the Coronavirus pandemic. Officials labeled the healthcare workers as selfless martyrs who sacrificed themselves in the battle against coronavirus. This day of mourning was on what’s ordinarily called the Qingming Festival, a holiday for Chinese families to visit their ancestors’ gravesites, pay respects, and make ritual offerings. In a demonstration of solidarity between the communist party and the people, we observed silence for three minutes while the air sirens blasted across China. We wailed in grief.

What Are Martyrs to Us?

It matters what we think of the term martyr, or what we associate with it. Meaning-laden, history-laden words pushed by the government must always be suspect. These words shape the narrative significantly during such a crisis. This is history, composed in fascinating language. Words are intended for interpersonal communications, but agents also retain the ability to interpret and associate words with specific events or memories internally on the individual level.

Uncontroversially, martyrs are commonly thought to be those who suffer from injustice. They are fiercely devoted to their belief, but are often viciously prosecuted and die without renouncing their conviction. They are hailed as examples to admire and to follow. Martin Luther King is a martyr for his relentless civil rights leadership. Thích Quảng Đức, a Buddhist monk, is a martyr for his defiance against religious oppression in South Vietnam. Similarly, in China, compatriots who died fighting Japanese occupation during WWII are certainly remembered as martyrs.

Photo by Jerónimo Bernot on Unsplash

There is an overwhelmingly positive connotation associated with the concept of martyrdom. The martyrs always fight injustice and are willing to sacrifice for their righteous cause. Our impression of martyrdom is a phenomenon caused by the age-old observation that history is often written by the victors. We will rarely recognize martyrs who stand on the wrong side of history, or at least our side of history. We call the wrong sort of martyrs fanatics and terrorists!

There is also the observation that the title of the martyr is reserved for the dead but always given to the dead by the living. It is true that many martyrs intended to be remembered as martyrs. On the other hand, to contemplate whether those who were portrayed as martyrs actually wanted to be remembered as martyrs is not also trivial. It is not true that martyrs always belong in both categories. That, I think, is a crucial aspect of martyrdom. There are motivations to create martyrs. Of course, motivations differ on a case by case basis throughout history. To see concepts like this must immediately prompt our curiosity to dig deeper.

Martyrdom as a Tool

From the above two paragraphs, I want to argue that the concept/labeling of martyrdom is a functional tool. Consequently, tools are not agents. As we all know, tools can be used for good causes as well as bad causes, and really depends on who is wielding the tool.

The labeling of martyrdom is precisely dangerous just in virtue of the character of having an overwhelmingly positive connotation. We are prone to accept the premise of martyrdom uncritically, and proceed to think from that suspect premise.

Martyrdom is a particularly efficient tool because it is history-laden, open to specific human associations, and often elicits strong responses. Such concepts will try to substitute our own ability to think for ourselves. We will be easily distracted from what’s really at stake. I conclude that there is a significant indoctrinating effect.

Xi Jinping described the pandemic as a “People’s War.” We have portrayed our response to the coronavirus pandemic as a battle, in which our doctors and nurses are our soldiers stationed on the front line battling the enemy under the efficient leadership of the party. We label the fallen as martyrs, putting them in the same category as ideological saints, examples to follow without question on our right side of history. This is an inspiration, so we compare ourselves to these martyrs. We ask ourselves: How much are we willing to sacrifice for the greater good? My perhaps unpopular opinion is that this is the wrong question to ask.

Photo by Tedward Quinn on Unsplash

It is to our delight, doctors and nurses are always there when we need them the most. Their faces are swollen from wearing goggles every day. Their skins festered under the same disposable protective suits each shift. Many hospitals are short of supplies to this day, so the prospect of changing suits during the same three-hour shifts is unrealistic. But these conditions pale under the looming threat of being infected themselves.

Don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for doctors and nurses for their incredible bravery and dedication. On the same note, bravery and sense of social responsibility are critical values to instill among the people.

But healthcare workers who put their lives at risk for us not only have to put aside their own well being, but also jeopardize their children’s future as well as their parents’ financial security. What does it mean to be selfless? They are selfless towards our health. Their dependents’ well-being depends on their selflessness towards them! There is always a conflict of distinct obligations. The concept of selflessness is not as one-dimensional as we would like to think.

I believe the right question to ask is: How can we protect our healthcare workers better in the future?

Photo by H Shaw on Unsplash

Dissent — Beyond the Simplicity of Good and Evil

As we fall into the dichotomy of good and evil in such a righteous war, we vilify the virus as a consequence. We are given the picture that the party and the people stood in solidarity to fight the evil enemy. In other words, we are grouped with the authority who failed our doctors and nurses in this public health crisis. We are grouped on the same side.

At the same time, the concept of evil serves as a matter of fact explanation. Evil is in the villain’s nature. It is an obvious motivation in a simple story we tell children in kindergarten. Being in such a state of shock, a simple story can restore order and provide easy closure for us, but we turn away from solving the root of the problem. We stop our investigation because there’s nothing that can explain evil. There is nothing more to investigate.

We don’t want doctors and nurses to sacrifice their lives for our health. This is definitively the wrong way to promote social responsibility. We are taking their bravery for granted, and we are almost expecting another wave of martyrs by the outbreak of the next pandemic. That is simply not acceptable.

Those who died due to the coronavirus infection shouldn’t be labeled as martyrs on the battlefield. Reasoning from that premise lead us astray. Doctors and nurses are victims in a worldwide public health crisis as well. Their well-being should’ve been our priority, but we have failed them miserably.

The right questions to ask often go directly in opposition to governments’ agenda to avoid dissent against its policies and decisions. The Stoic must be impervious to foreign attempts to shape our thinking for us. Freedom of thought is especially crucial in such a time of upheaval and change.

Rational constructive criticism is necessary for the possibility of improvement. The next pandemic will happen, and our refusal to learn from history will result in more “martyrs.” But we have a choice now. Its impact will be decided by the state of our preparedness then.