On May 28th, the US hit a grim milestone: more than 100,000 Americans had died as a result of COVID-19. 100,000 people. What does that number even mean? To put this into perspective, that's about 500 full school buses, more than six small towns, and the entire country of Liechtenstein worth of dead people. Still, though, these numbers don't mean anything to us. You see, in my state of Georgia, when there were only 96 confirmed cases of the virus, fear gripped everyone's life. It poisoned people's plans, meetings, daily schedules. And yet, today, when there are more than 96,000 cases, people don't seem to be afraid at all or at least a lot less worried. Without batting an eyelash, our district and state representatives seem to have an avid interest to get back to pre-COVID-19 life, some even pleading their constituents to stop getting tested for the virus.

Must be sociopathic behavior, no? How could someone be so apathetic about the deaths of so many other human beings? Could it be that such a time of crisis has teased out our inner evil? The short answer is: not exactly. Sure, from a myopic viewpoint, this may seem like the ultimate sin. But the truth is this is just so ingrained as humans. We don't care about some arbitrary combination of numbers. I certainly don't. And I'm no Mother Teresa, but even Mother Teresa herself said: "If I look at the mass I will never act. If I look at an individual, then I will." We must take note of an important distinction––we're more likely to act if we see an individual struggle rather than if we merely see a single number, essentially creating what psychologists deem "statistical numbness." Paul Slovic, a leading researcher in what he calls "psychic numbness" (the same as statistical numbness), attributes this to the innate humane nature to focus on one instead of multiple. Slovic conducted an experiment in which he asked participants to visualize money equivalent to $1––that is, 100 pennies, ten dimes, four quarters, a silver dollar, or a dollar bill––and the results were overwhelming. Most participants were visualizing a single dollar bill because a single dollar bill is conceptually efficient to envision and connect within our minds. Money is undoubtedly a scaled-down version of human life, but the core principle is still the same.

Let's take, for example, in 1987, a little girl by the name of Jessica McClure fell into the well in her aunt's backyard and was stuck there for nearly 58 hours. CNN broadcasted the "crisis," and people all across the nation donated so much money for efforts to get the girl out that, when they did, she had so much money that a trust fund was set up for when she became an adult. And yet, in that same 58 hours in 1987, somewhere in the musty slums of New Delhi, there were hundreds of starving children. From a utilitarianism perspective, the money given to McClure should've gone to the kids in India. But it didn't. And several kids likely died because of it.

Our one-on-one connections with other humans are so tenacious, but, as unfortunate as it is, our attachment to a single number is far weaker no matter how many digits there are. And this makes total sense. When we look into a mirror, we don't see a percentage or a single numeral, do we? No, we see another human, and that human is what evokes our sympathy.

Thus, this brings me back to the global pandemic at hand. If you're like me, you might've seen the number 100,000 flashing on television screens across the nation and felt confused, dare I say guilty. You may have even gone so far as to pretend as if you cared about those 100,000 people. But for most us, such a large number is so unfathomable that we act with inefficacy and disinterest. We refer to this as human nature. But it doesn't mean we should accept it as so. Especially in times like these, it's of utmost importance to go out of our way to consider the harsh realities behind the data. Because today you may find yourself lucky not to be a victim of health issues, poverty, systemic racism. So, it would be convenient and in your best interest for you to eviscerate your selfishness. One day, though, it may very well be you who is trapped behind that wall of statistics, unable to break free from the chains of societal ignorance. And with that, I'll say this: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."