Leadership Lessons from Catching Covid-19
We finally caught the 'rona and learned some humbling lessons about making life-and-death decisions
We evaded Covid-19 for five years.
Long after the pandemic ended and China returned to the status quo ante of exporting cheap junk instead of infectious diseases, we upheld the 2020 fashion trend of wearing N95 masks in public. We secretly hoped that getting injected with all the different vaccines would grant us superpowers, like shooting coronavirus spike proteins from our fingertips or something.
We didn’t write this post to humblebrag about our stint in the Witness-19 Protection Program; we’re writing a post-mortem to dissect our poor judgment. To our chagrin, we failed to apply Leadership Land thinking to life-and-death decisions.
Our Decision-Making Process
We knew we’d catch the ‘rona at some point, but we maintained our rampant paranoia1 for as long as possible. We figured:
We’d put less strain on the medical system by catching it later. At the beginning of the pandemic, hospitals were overflowing. Medical workers worked themselves ragged. Catching Covid-19 early would’ve been bad for the system and would’ve degraded the quality of medical care for us. Not only were we more likely to die in a hospital, our hospitalization would’ve increased the risk of someone else dying who could’ve survived in our absence.
There would be more data about the disease and better technology for fighting the disease later. Paxlovid and the vaccines didn’t exist until several years into the pandemic. They were initially scarce resources because of supply chain bottlenecks and legal restrictions.
The virus will evolve to become less dangerous over time. A pathogen that is too lethal will kill the hosts it uses to proliferate – thereby becoming a victim of its own success. This point was widely publicized in 2022 when the Omicron variant was found to be less virulent than previous flavors of Covid-19.
When we finally caught one of the later, less-dangerous Covid variants for the first time, after getting a half-dozen vaccine jabs, we must’ve brushed off the virus without much difficulty, right?
Wrong.
The disease floored us. Recovery dragged on for months. The disease sapped our vitality, our brainpower, and (for one of us) the sense of taste and smell. It’s like the virus wanted revenge for our evasiveness and demanded five years of backpay (with interest).
Naturally, we looked for someone else to blame for our misery. Was it the lady on the plane who wore a pink pillow shaped like a toilet seat around her neck? Even with her head immobilized by the pillow, she still somehow managed to cough in our direction several times. Maybe we should blame Emily from accounting, who moonlights as a chauffeur for her four kids. When they’re not breathing all over each other at soccer practice, her kids are sharing oxygen and germs with hundreds of other little superspreaders in a maximum-security public school. Maybe it’s Pfizer’s fault for developing such an ineffective cooties shot. Their vaccines gave us debilitating side effects, didn’t prevent us from getting horribly sick from the real virus, and we still can’t shoot spike proteins from our fingertips.
We Were Suckers for the “Law of Declining Virulence”
One of us lamented to the doctor about how we thought the later virus variants would cause a milder infection. A half-apologetic, half-pitying expression crinkled the corner of her eyes (she was masked from the nostrils down). She responded:
I’m really sorry you’re still suffering, but there’s been a misunderstanding. When you hear someone say “the later variants are less severe” what they really mean is “the later variants are less likely to put people in the hospital or kill them.” It doesn’t necessarily mean that the virus has evolved to become less dangerous over time.
Say whaaaaat?
We went home, looked for evidence against the notion that Covid-19 has evolved to become less virulent over time, and found it almost immediately. More than a century ago, an epidemiologist named Theobald Smith conjectured that diseases must become less dangerous over time as pathogens and hosts reach a “delicate equilibrium.” Smith’s idea has since been supplanted by more accurate scientific models. But just like astrology and personality tests, Smith’s idea refuses to go quietly into the night. The disproven idea keeps popping up like a game of whack-a-mole and remains so widespread that some people call it the “Law of Declining Virulence.”
As the Law of Declining Virulence regained popularity in 2022, news articles and scientific literature popped up to debunk the belief that pathogens invariably evolve to become less dangerous. One paper even called it the “Myth of the Good Pathogen.”
We were the latest suckers to fall for the myth. Somehow, we missed all the articles debunking it. What finally forced us to question our underlying beliefs was the brutal experience of catching Covid for the first time – and learning firsthand that the virus did not evolve to play nice with our immune systems.
Why Did We Believe a Falsehood for So Long?
We didn’t intend to be closed-minded, but it happened anyway. At some point, we visited the Tower of Corporate Astrology (part of the Institute of Conventional Wisdom) and we never left.
At least four factors seduced us into believing the Law of Declining Virulence:
We’re suckers for reason, not truth
The clarity of the Law of Declining Virulence distracted us from realizing that it’s simply not true. The idea is so intuitive. It makes so much sense.
Being seduced by falsehoods that make sense is nothing new. As far back as the late 1500s, Michel de Montaigne observed in his essay Of Cripples:
I see ordinarily that men, when facts are put before them, are more ready to amuse themselves by inquiring into their reasons than by inquiring into their truth.
[…]
They pass over the facts, but they assiduously examine their consequences. They ordinarily begin thus: “How does this happen?” What they should say is: “But does it happen?”
As for why we’re suckers for reasons, not truth…
We’re suckers for confirmation bias
Confirmation bias feels good. The Law of Declining Virulence is so easy to grasp that it triggers an “ah-ha!” moment of I-figured-it-out clarity. As the years went by, Covid-related hospitalizations and death numbers continued to decline, and we received regular feedback that we were right. Deep down, our egos purred contentedly as we stroked it with confirmation bias.
Centuries ago, Michel de Montaigne noticed the same thing. Later in the essay Of Cripples, he wrote:
Truth and falsehood are alike in face, similar in bearing, taste, and movement; we look upon them with the same eye. I find not only that we are lax in defending ourselves against deception, but that we seek and hasten to run ourselves through on it. We love to embroil ourselves in vanity.
We reveled in confirmation bias for years…until the truth gate-crashed the party and we started coughing up our own lungs.
We’re suckers for anxiety-reduction
Early in the pandemic, when we knew little about the virus and our countermeasures were unproven, the Fog of Uncertainty was much denser than usual. If you’ve ever driven or navigated through thick fog, you’ve experienced the oppressive feeling that keeps you on edge and whitens your knuckles as you grip the steering wheel.
Frankly, we were scared. In 2020-2021, choosing to break quarantine was a life-and-death decision. Even if we didn’t perish, we could’ve transmitted the disease to someone’s grandma who did.
Anxiety makes us more prone to latching on to the first explanation that makes sense. Finding ANY cogent explanation – truth be damned – instantly disperses the Fog of Uncertainty and lifts the oppressive feeling from our shoulders. Even if the explanation is wrong, the comfort of false certainty replaces the anxiety of facing the unknown. Once we felt like we’d “figured it all out,” confirmation bias took over. What started as an amorphous guesstimate eventually crystallized into a closely-held belief.
We’re suckers for forward thinking
In Risk and Uncertainty in Leadership: 4-Dimensional Thinking, we introduced one-way functions: asymmetric processes that are much easier to carry out in the forward direction than the other way around. It’s much easier to figure out how an ice sculpture will melt into a puddle than discover a puddle on your kitchen counter and reverse-engineer its origins. Was it an ice sculpture? An ice cube? A leak in the ceiling?
Likewise, it was very easy to learn about the Law of Declining Virulence (ice sculpture), think in the forward direction, and conclude that it was responsible for fewer Covid-19 hospitalizations and declining death toll (puddle). It’s much harder to look at the data (puddle) and reverse-engineer the true cause:
Maybe the people who were most vulnerable to the virus are already dead and don’t show up in later data.
Maybe the vaccines helped reduce the severity of infections. “Not dying” isn’t as sexy of a superpower as shooting spike proteins from one’s fingertips, but it’s a superpower nonetheless.
Maybe the later virus variants did evolve to become less virulent (more on that later).
Maybe the people who survived earlier strains of Covid-19 were the ones who evolved; that is, their immune systems adapted to fight the later strains.
Maybe all of the above are true to one degree or another, and it’s impossible to untangle the Gordian Knot of interwoven factors.
We extol the virtues of solving problems backwards, but in this case we failed to practice what we preach. Mea culpa.
What Does Covid-19 Have to Do With Leadership?
As leaders, we usually look at problems through the lens provided by our direct reports. We rely on subordinates and contractors to analyze developments, spin raw data into coherent narratives, and recommend courses of action. Accepting their interpretation of the problem with zero critical thinking is dangerous – that’s like us uncritically accepting the Law of Declining Virulence because we listened to news articles, people who parrot news articles, and online commenters who parrot people who parrot news articles.
Some key lessons we learned from our Covid-19 saga:
Skepticism is an antidote to false certainty
There’s a report on your desk from your marketing team. After spending 30% more advertising dollars in West Tennesota, sales in that market increased by 48%. The report ends with a recommendation to increase the advertising budget in North Pennsyltucky and Outer Califlorniduh by 30% each so that Company McCorporateface, Inc. can reach its growth targets by year-end.
The forward-thinking conclusion is that the 30% increased expenditure caused the 48% increase in West Tennesota sales.
Put more ads in people’s faces → the advertised product remains top-of-mind → people open their wallets more often.
It makes sense, right? Likewise:
In 2020, Covid-19 Classic™ killed too many people and shuttered the world → virus evolved into Covid-19 Omicron Edition™ and become less dangerous → Covid-19 death toll and hospitalization numbers decrease.
Both forward-thinking explanations are simple and elegant. Both explanations might even be correct! The Law of Declining Virulence states that pathogens must become less deadly, which has been refuted – but pathogens can evolve to become less deadly. Therefore, not all forward-thinking conclusions are wrong; the true lesson here is to avoid conflating reasonableness with truth.
Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote: “what is not intelligible to me is not necessarily unintelligent.” Likewise, what is intelligible to us isn’t necessarily intelligent. That is, things that make sense aren’t necessarily true. To avoid the seduction of false certainties, we should get in the habit of asking:
This makes a lot of sense…but is it true?
Think backwards, not forward
If leadership were a competitive sport like the Olympic Games, we would win the gold medal in jumping to conclusions.
To fight the mental trap of conflating correlation with causation, we can look at an outcome and try to reverse-engineer it – just like looking at the puddle of water and trying to figure out where it came from. Let’s try to reverse-engineer the 48% rise in sales from West Tennesota with some possible explanations:
It could’ve been caused by the 30% increase in advertisement spending, exactly as the report implied.
The 48% rise in sales was because of National Obligatory Gratitude Day: an annual ritual where your customers buy gifts to avoid accusations of “you don’t love me enough.” Every year, the Company McCorporateface, Inc. marketing team purchases advertising space to avoid accusations of “your negligence caused a year-over-year decline in sales.” In this case, the report pointed the arrow of causality in the wrong direction; i.e. the 48% rise in sales caused the 30% rise in advertising expenditure, not the other way around.
Company McCorporateface, Inc. spent 30% more advertising dollars because the price to run the same number of ads increased by 30%. The 48% rise in sales was completely unrelated.
Company McCorporateface, Inc. spent 30% more advertising dollars to promote its line of toaster ovens, but it was a surge in demand for the Company’s laser-guided missiles that drove the 48% rise in sales.
Thinking backwards makes you less likely to accept the report’s recommendation without critical thinking. You might propose a series of smaller-scale marketing experiments before you commit millions of advertising dollars to the North Pennsyltucky and Outer Califlorniduh markets. Even if you authorize the 30% increase, you improved the quality of your decision-making by freeing your mind of false certainties.
Be wary of fear-driven decisions in the Fog of Uncertainty
We were willing (desperate, even) to believe in the Law of Declining Virulence because any certainty – even false certainty – provides instant relief from the Fog of Uncertainty. The greater the perceived danger, the denser the Fog. The more oppressive the Fog, the greater the urgency for anxiety relief. This urgency caused us to latch onto the first explanation that made sense. Once we latched on, the Fog of Uncertainty dispersed and we basked in the comfort of having “figured it all out.”
If your organization is about to be swallowed by another one, the economy is going to hell in a handbasket, or your livelihood is threatened for any reason, you will be susceptible to false certainties. Like us, you may be ready to believe the first explanation that makes sense…even if it isn’t true. That’s when you need to be on guard, so the urgent desire of anxiety relief doesn’t cloud your judgment.
Easier said than done, of course. We have a whole article on dealing with the emotions evoked by the Fog of Uncertainty:
Never let a good crisis go to waste
We’re not the only ones vulnerable to false certainties when stricken with anxiety. So is everyone else! Stubborn people tend to soften during a crisis, becoming receptive to anyone who can provide them with anxiety relief. Rigid organizations become pliable. During times of adversity, we can witness the best and worst of human behavior.
When we were younger, we used to be incredulous that people could be stupid enough to fall for superstitious beliefs. How gullible did ancient humans have to be to think that slicing out the beating heart of a human sacrifice would appease the gods?
As we grew older, incredulity gave way to pity. We now wonder: what kind of traumatic experiences would cause someone to undergo a cult conversion? How thick did the Fog of Uncertainty become to drive a family member into a new religious belief, or to renounce an old one? How urgently did an ancient society seek relief from a famine, plague, or drought if they became desperate enough to slice the beating heart out of a human sacrifice?
The leadership lesson here is that the Fog of Uncertainty can serve as a powerful catalyst for change – both good and evil – during a crisis. Left to their own devices, people tend to scatter into the Fog of Uncertainty. Some will adapt and improve. Others (like us) adopt false certainties. Others are misled into self-destructive behaviors they would’ve avoided if the Fog hadn’t distorted their judgment.
A leader’s job during a crisis is to steer people away from both external threats and self-inflicted harm. Want to slash bureaucratic red tape or win support for your heterodox idea? A crisis is the best to do it! You can influence people by using the three classic modes of persuasion:
Flex your expertise or job title (ethos). If you are calm and decisive, other people’s anxiety enhances your credibility.2
Make an emotional appeal that lifts the oppressive Fog of Uncertainty (pathos).
Provide an explanation that make sense (logos).
If your friends/family/colleagues are gripped by fear, your appeal doesn’t even have to be true to be effective! But this article is about leadership, not manipulation – use this knowledge to guide your organization away from the bizarre, self-destructive habits that develop during crises. Steer your people away from the modern equivalent of slicing the beating heart out of a human sacrifice.
Final Thoughts: Separating Decision Quality from Decision Outcome
If we could transport our current knowledge back to the early days of the pandemic, would we have behaved differently? Would we have been less paranoid and allowed ourselves to catch the ‘rona earlier?
No. The quality of our decision was imperfect (i.e. we were wrong about the Law of Declining Virulence), but it wasn’t a terribad decision, either. When we were forcibly inducted into the Covid club, we had access to anti-viral drugs and knowledgeable doctors who had enough spare capacity to monitor us closely. We were miserable, but it didn’t feel like a death sentence.
Also, we were very lucky to make a benign mistake. Believing in the Law of Declining Virulence was like believing in common misconceptions (e.g. “Before modern medicine, people usually died in their 30s” or “we only use 10% of our brains”) where being wrong is mostly harmless. We hope we’re never wrong again about life-and-death decisions in the future…but when we are, we want to make another benign mistake. It’s like having a fail-safe instead of a fail-deadly.
That covers decision quality. Decision outcome is much harder to judge. It’s possible that if we had caught the ‘rona in 2020 before ever getting a vaccine shot, we would’ve died and Adventures in Leadership Land would have never existed. The only way to test that hypothesis is to find a parallel universe where we blithely frolicked about in 2020 and see what happened to us in that alternate universe.
We could spend all day in a rabbit hole of speculation and what-ifs, so we’ll cut ourselves off here. We’ll get back to a semi-regular writing schedule and pick up where we left off: personality tests and the Tower of Corporate Astrology.
We were paranoid about masking up and minimizing time in enclosed spaces. We were not clean freaks who wiped down every surface with disinfectants. A lot of common sanitation practices were a form of “hygiene theater” that didn’t do anything to reduce the spread of disease. Remember those clear plastic barriers at the check-out counter? The ones that made it harder for people to hear each other? The ones that forced people to lean around the barrier and yell at each other, thereby spreading the cooties more effectively?
You can see this happening nonverbally when discomfort descends upon a group and all eyes turn toward the leader. Usually that’s the person with the loftiest job title, but not always.