As I write, the world is in the midst of an unprecedented crisis. The COVID-19 pandemic has infected millions around the world, led to closed borders and shut down much of everyday life, from India to Moscow, to New York City. Here in the U.S., as of this writing, more than half a million people have been infected by the virus, and more than 20,000 have died. Universities like ours have closed for the year, and some wonder if college life will ever be the same.

Moreover, this crisis has hit especially hard for international students. Many were forced to leave the country on short notice in March. It’s unclear right now whether all will be able to make it back to Bethlehem when the university — hopefully — reconvenes in August. And as some have stigmatized the virus as a “Chinese virus,” many people of Asian descent have faced unfair suspicion and hostility in recent months.

You might be thinking, “right now is no time for poetry, for art, for narrative storytelling… We should be talking about public health, epidemiology, virology, antibodies…”

Actually, in the midst of what we’re going through, it’s more important than ever that we turn to works of creative writing to connect with one another. It may be scientists and policy-makers who will solve the Coronavirus problem, but it will be creative writers who will make sense of it and help humanity interpret its significance for future generations.

Admittedly, it’s not always going to be about grand narratives of our common humanity. Sometimes we can simply turn to the creative arts for distraction — for thoughts and voices that remind us better times. There’s no harm in reading — or writing — a love poem in the middle of a viral pandemic, or listening to an old R&B tune by an artist like Bill Withers.

People have already been turning to the arts. Netflix and on-demand viewership is way up. Some of that is light entertainment, but in recent months, millions of people have turned to films and works of literature for help in trying to process what’s been happening. Stephen Soderbergh’s 2011 film Contagion, which was a modest hit when it was first released, has suddenly been one of the most widely streamed films on the internet. And indeed, it makes for remarkable viewing right now — the film features a virus that originates from a bat in China and goes on to infect much of the world’s population, causing unprecedented disruptions in the fabric of everyday life. When I watched the film recently, I was shocked — it’s almost as if Stephen Soderbergh, who is very much a creature of Hollywood and by no means a scientist — could predict the future! Another film that has suddenly risen back into prominence is the 1995 film Outbreak, which shows an Ebola-like virus infecting a small town in California.

Both of these films are worth watching, though it’s worth noting that they are highly “America-centric”: they show the danger of viral contagion almost exclusively from an American point of view. In Outbreak, the great worry is that a highly contagious virus originating in Zaire will infect Americans; there’s almost no concern in the film about lives lost in Africa itself. It’s as if they simply don’t matter to the filmmakers.

For that reason, I’ve been encouraging friends to watch a Nigerian film about Ebola called 93 Days. This film tells the story of a possible Ebola outbreak from the point of view of Nigerian medical professionals. When I screened it with students earlier this spring, several students were surprised at all the signs of middle-class life in the film: I didn’t know people in Africa had such nice cars and houses! Another striking feature of this film are the many moments when the filmmakers show concern, not just for the lives of Nigerians, but for the rest of the world.

In short, not only do we need to hear the voices of creative writers at this moment, it’s especially important that we hear voices who represent different walks of life and different cultural experiences. That’s what, I understand, International Voices is aiming for.

Dr. Amardeep Singh,

Professor of English