The coronavirus fear factor – comment

Israelis don't like to admit that we don't have the answers for every puzzle, and we definitely don't like to confess that we're scared.

Travelers wearing masks chat in the arrivals terminal after Israel said it will require anyone arriving from overseas to self-quarantine for 14 days as a precaution against the spread of coronavirus, at Ben Gurion International airport in Lod, near Tel Aviv, Israel (photo credit: REUTERS/RONEN ZEVULUN)
Travelers wearing masks chat in the arrivals terminal after Israel said it will require anyone arriving from overseas to self-quarantine for 14 days as a precaution against the spread of coronavirus, at Ben Gurion International airport in Lod, near Tel Aviv, Israel
(photo credit: REUTERS/RONEN ZEVULUN)
I'm scared.
We are conditioned, especially in Israel to adopt the "yihye b'seder" approach – it will be ok – to any and all crises. But the challenge of the coronavirus outbreak is far different from all the previous trials we've had to face – whether it be the Six Day or Yom Kippur wars, scud attacks from Iraq, the bloody Second Intifada or the ongoing rocket attacks on the South.
Our lives changed drastically during all those periods. And in all cases, except for the seemingly unsolvable situation in the South, they all returned to normal.
But now I'm scared that 'normal' will never return – and if it does, it will be a reality far different than what we've known until now.
I'm not scared about getting infected with the coronavirus and dying. Even though I'm just over the edge of the age-danger zone, I'm confident that I would survive. I'm scared for friends like Harry who suffers from a compromised auto-immune system, and I'm scared for the elderly and infirm who are alone, helpless and at risk.
I'm scared for society, already critically socially distanced by years of smartphones and social media. Will elbow bumps permanently replace hugs and handshakes?
I'm scared for all the people losing their livelihoods as this crisis affects virtually every work field – people like my son's bosses, who invested hundreds of thousands of shekels into a restaurant in Tel Aviv that has been thriving since it opened three months ago. Will they be able to survive the shutdown or will it destroy their business?
I'm scared about the colleagues and friends being sent on “unpaid leaves” with no indication that the situation will improve in 30 days.
I'm scared for our country, facing this crisis without a government in place, still plunged into uncertainty over whether our leaders will put differences aside to form an emergency government and lead us through the darkness. A fourth election, held under the specter of a country in closure, is a dreaded and possible eventuality. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has acted with authority and responsibility so far, but he should not and cannot be making the decisions alone.
I'm scared that the privacy rights and civil liberties of Israelis will be violated in the efforts to contain the pandemic.
I'm scared that the world economy will take years to recover, affecting Israel's economy and the financial security of everyone in the country.
I know that we should try to be optimistic, harness our faith in whatever deity we believe in, and hope that better days are ahead. Israelis are great at that. We don't like to admit that we don't have the answers for every puzzle, and we definitely don't like to confess that we're scared.
But in the back of our minds, muzzled by the yihye b'seder mantra, we don't really know if it will all be ok. Instead of putting on a brave face, maybe it's time to embrace this new, alien reality and shout out from the confines of our shuttered house: I'm scared.
It might make you feel a little better. And at some point in the hopefully not-too-distant future, when we emerge from the corona darkness, the fear will subside.
We'll go back and populate the theaters and cafes and stadiums, rebuild the lives that were shattered, and hopefully be more aware and grateful that the life we've been given should never be taken for granted.