Last week, Italy's Civil Protection Department received a significant shipment from Xiaomi, the renowned electronics company. This delivery consisted of tens of thousands of FFP3 face masks for healthcare professionals, serving as a gesture of gratitude to the Italian people for their warm reception when Xiaomi launched its first European offices in 2018. Each crate bore a quote from the Roman philosopher Seneca, stating, “We are waves of the same sea, leaves of the same tree, flowers of the same garden.”

In the midst of widespread panic, donations continue to flow. At the peak of the Wuhan outbreak, the European Union sent 50 tonnes of supplies to China, which recently reciprocated by sending two million surgical masks, 200,000 N95 masks, and 50,000 testing kits to Europe. In the Philippines, Manny Pacquiao donated 600,000 masks to healthcare workers, while Jack Ma, the founder of Alibaba, shipped one million masks and 500,000 testing kits to the U.S., on top of earlier donations to Italy and Spain. Trip.com is also providing a million surgical masks to various countries, inscribing on their containers, “Many ways, to join one journey. Many origins, to reach one destiny. Many friends, to form one family. Many endeavors, to win one victory.”

Masks symbolize this moment in history, arriving through a vast global trade network that, until recently, felt certain. Media portrayals have depicted masked individuals rushing through deserted streets or crowding around hospital beds, while statistics on casualties and infection rates dominate the news, often framed in a nationalistic context. This focus on “our” losses over “theirs,” or “our” infected citizens versus “theirs,” reveals a narrow perspective prevalent in media narratives.

However, amidst this anxiety, masks also embody a collective response to a shared threat, illustrating our interconnectedness. When donned, they mask individual features, blurring distinctions that often influence our societal reactions. Regardless of ethnicity or nationality, masks serve everyone equally. We are witnessing a truly global response: in Singapore, gaming company Razer is producing masks; in France, cosmetics giant LVMH is manufacturing hand sanitizers; and in the U.S., car manufacturers are converting production lines to create ventilators. The British government has distributed ventilator blueprints to over 60 industrial firms, including Rolls-Royce and Airbus.

As historian Rebecca Solnit highlights, crises tend to unite people. In New York, a network of volunteers is delivering groceries and medicine to the elderly and vulnerable. The UK has seen over a thousand mutual aid groups emerge overnight, facilitating local support. Canada has witnessed a "caremongering" movement that started in urban areas and has since spread nationwide. In China, the town of Caohe received substantial donations of medical equipment from a Taoist nunnery located over 1,000 kilometers away. Countries like the Netherlands and Denmark are paying their citizens basic incomes, with others likely to follow. Restaurants globally are transforming into community kitchens to ensure food access for those in need.

The focus here is not on whether humanity is inherently good or bad during crises; rather, we should recognize the media's inclination to generate compelling narratives. Venkatesh Rao discusses "narrative collapse," where people fixate on raw data instead of cohesive stories that make sense of their realities. In these times, even individuals who typically shun statistics find themselves grappling with stark facts regarding infection rates, supplies, and personal risk.

This narrative collapse is unsettling. In the West, we have been entangled in a convoluted narrative since the 2008 financial crisis, characterized by distrust in authorities, diminishing faith in expertise, and escalating political polarization. Instead of focusing on policy debates, we have become consumed by who controls the narrative, leading to a distorted view of political reality.

Now, we confront a genuine crisis.

The established narratives have lost relevance. Traditional political discourse feels trivial as we face a health emergency. The usual debates about political maneuvering and personal scandals reveal themselves as mere distractions from the pressing issues at hand. The reality of the pandemic has stripped away the façade of these narratives, exposing their contradictions.

One prevalent narrative we have long accepted is that globalization is unavoidable. This belief has shaped our understanding of the world as a natural order. Yet, in pursuing free trade and open borders, we have intensified global complexity, compounded by geopolitical shifts and the digital revolution. As sociologist Ulrich Beck has observed, a globalizing society often embodies risk. This crisis signals a radical change, a once-in-a-century transformation that challenges our assumptions. No one predicted the emergence of a minuscule protein cluster, just 120 nanometers wide, containing a mere eight kilobytes of genetic material.

Countries with prior experiences with SARS and MERS have managed the pandemic more effectively. For instance, Taiwan, despite millions of visitors from China, has reported just over 100 cases. Singapore developed a tracking app for quarantined individuals, Vietnam has successfully contained outbreaks, and South Korea implemented a comprehensive testing strategy. Conversely, many nations, particularly in Europe and the U.S., were shockingly unprepared, still clinging to linear models of predictability and reacting only after systemic shocks occur.

As Upton Sinclair famously stated, “It’s difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it.”

Governments worldwide, including Australia's, continue to view the pandemic as an external threat that requires proportional response. Their language mirrors military conflict, framing the situation as “a war” against a virus and economic downturn. As conditions worsen, leaders plan to escalate defensive actions. However, the coronavirus is not merely an external adversary; it is an intrinsic outcome of our behavior. The gradual ramp-up of mitigation strategies will inevitably deplete resources over a longer period. The demand for intensive care typically follows new infections by about three weeks, highlighting the critical need for proactive measures. Early intervention, as seen in several Chinese cities and smaller towns in Northern Italy, is vital to avoid overwhelming healthcare systems. The message is clear: flattening the curve requires decisive action.

For many in developed nations, this experience is unprecedented, and even developing countries face unique challenges. Questions loom large: Will our loved ones be safe? Will healthcare systems manage the influx of patients? What economic impact awaits us? The uncertainty weighs heavily, prompting a search for answers as we navigate this unfamiliar terrain.

Since the 2008 financial crisis, a time when smartphones were scarce, the world has not encountered an emergency of this magnitude. While the financial crisis had varied effects across nations, the coronavirus is affecting countries uniformly. Supply chains are faltering, airlines are reducing flights, borders are closing, and stock markets are experiencing turmoil. The gains from a lengthy bull market have evaporated in mere weeks, and despite massive infusions of capital into financial markets, the decline continues. We are in extraordinary times, and as the situation evolves, the reality of “returning to normal” becomes increasingly elusive.

Yet, amidst the chaos, there are glimmers of hope. Just as a health scare prompts a reassessment of personal habits, we are compelled to reflect on our global practices. Notable environmental improvements have emerged: dolphins are returning to Sardinian harbors, Venice’s canals are clearing, and skies are noticeably less polluted. Many Asian nations have banned wet markets, and air quality has significantly improved. Estimates suggest that reduced PM2.5 levels in China may have saved thousands of lives—far exceeding the immediate fatalities attributed to the virus.

This is not to suggest that COVID-19 is beneficial; these sacrifices are not what any society should accept. However, the pandemic serves as a mirror, compelling us to scrutinize our way of life. Earthquakes reveal the earth's inner workings, just as pandemics expose flaws in our industrial systems. They highlight the essential workers in our society—the nurses, doctors, delivery drivers, caregivers, porters, teachers, and retail staff—who are often overlooked.

The pandemic also underscores the inadequacy of many elected officials. In a crisis, narratives become irrelevant. The reality strips away pretenses, revealing who is truly equipped to lead. Leaders like Jair Bolsonaro continue to downplay the crisis, much to the dismay of citizens demanding action. Meanwhile, in the U.S., the president attempts to recast himself as a wartime leader, but crises do not care about titles or rhetoric. Testing shortages and healthcare limitations persist, and the consequences of undermining civil service capabilities will be felt by the populace.

With each passing day, it becomes increasingly clear that outdated, ineffective governance is ill-equipped to tackle 21st-century challenges like global pandemics, climate change, and cyber warfare. These threats demand innovative leadership and robust social safety nets, equitable healthcare systems, and educational frameworks that foster critical thinking.

Perhaps the most hopeful outcome of this pandemic is the renewed respect for scientists. For years, populist leaders have derided experts contradicting their narratives. Yet, in this crisis, scientists have become our frontline defenders. As New York Times journalist Farhad Manjoo eloquently states:

> Let us pray, now, for science. Pray for empiricism and for epidemiology and for vaccines. Pray for peer review and controlled double-blinds. For flu shots, and washing your hands. Pray for reason, rigour and expertise. Pray for the precautionary principle. Pray for the NIH and the CDC. Pray for the WHO. And pray not just for science, but for scientists, too, as well as their colleagues in the application of science — the tireless health care workers, the whistle-blowing first responders, the rumpled, righteous public servants whose long-ignored warnings we will learn about only when the 12-part coronavirus docu-disaster series drops on Netflix. Wish them all well in the fights ahead. Their weapons, the weapons of science, are all we have left — perhaps the only true weapons our kind has ever marshalled against encroaching oblivion.

Let’s not forget the scientists. Today, there are more scientists than ever, and they are working collaboratively to combat this pandemic. Medical research is advancing at an unprecedented pace; it took just two weeks after Chinese health officials alerted the World Health Organization for geneticists to isolate the virus and publish its sequence. In contrast, during the 2002 SARS outbreak, it took months to sequence the genome. The cost of creating synthetic copies of genetic material has plummeted, making rapid research and development possible.

Numerous biotech firms and public laboratories around the globe are diligently working on potential vaccines and treatments. Within 72 hours, three companies specializing in messenger RNA therapeutics announced promising candidates, with human trials set to begin shortly and a vaccine potentially available within 12 to 18 months. This stands in stark contrast to the decades it took to develop previous vaccines.

Scientists were instrumental in identifying the threat, sequencing the genome, and establishing the communication networks that facilitate rapid information sharing. When flawed strategies, such as the UK’s herd immunity approach, emerged, the scientific community corrected course. Numerous treatments are currently under evaluation, including repurposed drugs and new therapies.

Most importantly, science provides a pathway to overcoming this crisis. When Bill Gates was asked about the pandemic's duration, he asserted that with effective testing and shutdown measures, countries could see a decline in cases within six to ten weeks. Examples from Taiwan, Vietnam, and Singapore illustrate that competent governance—not merely political systems—yields better outcomes.

Avoid the media’s tendency to impose narratives; it’s premature to draw conclusions. Instead, hold on to Seneca's wisdom: “We are waves of the same sea, leaves of the same tree, flowers of the same garden.” This collective experience is a shared story, one that emphasizes our interconnectedness. Millions of individuals around the globe are navigating similar challenges—teenagers in Italy, grandmothers in Nigeria, parents in Mexico, and countless others adjusting to new realities. We are all grappling with financial concerns and uncertainties about the future.

Eventually, the immediate crisis will fade from our consciousness and become a chapter in history. We will rebuild and seek a return to normalcy.

But should we?

We can aspire to do better.

This time, let’s not let a good crisis go to waste.