Quarantine and Solitary Confinement – Mahvash Sabet

This is a reflection written by Mahvash Sabet, poet poet, psychology teacher, and member of the Baha’i Yaran for the new series from The Bahá’í Chair for World Peace on Learning During the Covid-19 Pandemic.

For Mahvash Sabet  –  poet, psychology teacher, and member of the Baha’i Yaran –  who experienced severe solitary confinement during a ten year sentence in the prisons of Iran, there is a certain irony in now being confined with all her compatriots, outside their walls as a result of the current epidemic. But although the two experiences can hardly be compared, her insights might resonate with readers at this time. 

This piece has been adapted and shortened from the original Persian, courtesy of the on-line magazine “aaSoo” (https://www.aasoo.org.)

As a result of Covid-19, we may have the chance to think more deeply, these days, of the past, the future, old friends, new bonds, and above all our similarities and differences. Perhaps it is because of this that I have been receiving calls recently from friends who say: “We now can better  understand what you went through during your solitary confinement.”

It set me thinking. Are quarantine conditions really like solitary confinement? If so, why do I not see the similarities?  Why am I so calm instead of restless? Why do I not wait desperately for the night to be over and simultaneously tremble at the thought of the next day?  I can actually swallow food!  Death does not appear to be my only salvation!  

But even as I realize the differences, and thank the kind friend who phoned, and pray that neither she, nor any one, anywhere in the world, would have to endure actual solitary confinement, I understand what she means. She is not speaking of similar conditions but of their psychological impact. Perhaps in that way, yes, quarantine is like prison.

First of all, it has turned our world upside down and changed all our habits.  Prior to COVID 19 we had specific behavioural patterns: our comings and goings, likes and dislikes, our sleeping and waking, work and social lives, our interaction with family and the outside world. Now these patterns have been upturned. We must adapt or we will not survive. We must pass through the stages of denial and arrive at some kind of acceptance. But it is a shock. Undermining our habits can be an assault on our sense of self, a threat to our self-image. 

Before being thrown into solitary confinement, a prisoner too has a clear picture of who she is. She has a certain confidence based on her interactions with others. She may have built an ideal image of her self bolstered by her professional competence, her role in society. But once stripped of these externals and deprived of her habits, once isolated and confined behind walls, she is forced to question who she is. It is easy to lose self-esteem in prison.

During quarantine, too, we may be assailed by self-doubts we kept at bay before. Now, all kinds of fears overcome us, many justified. We worry more than before about becoming sick or of losing others; we may be plagued by financial loss and economic precariousness; we feel increasingly suffocated by the lack of social interaction, the deprivation of nature; and finally we find ourselves both more dependent on and frustrated by the bombardment of the media.  In these ways, being trapped at home can feel like a prison sentence. 

It is more difficult to cope with others too, when one is fearful. Trust can quickly be eroded in conditions of confinement. Being cooped up indoors not only erodes an individual’s self-confidence but undermines relationships, provoke problems in a group. We find ourselves suspicious of the words and actions of others. We are inclined to blame and accuse. And living in an environment of distrust for days, weeks, months can become toxic. The impact of disharmony is as dangerous psychologically as the virus is physically. So whether confined to the home, or imprisoned in a cell, we need to control our impatience, temper our inner haste, become more tolerant with others, learn patience and practice love.  

Finally something curious happens to time, whether in solitary confinement or quarantine. We lose count of the days and nights; we forget the hours. Weeks pass and we cannot remember the date or how long this has been going on.  Sometimes twenty-four hours feel like eternity; other times we notice that almost two months have passed, and it seems just yesterday that this unreality began. We may grow obsessed with the past, and apprehensive about the future. Conversely, we may find ourselves living increasingly in the moment, which is a defence mechanism against despair.  But in either case, we realize that time is an illusion. 

And this can be curiously liberating. Cut off from old habits, from previous notions of identity and self-worth, and from the temporal constraints of life, we can actually discover, in these strange circumstances, a new freedom.  We can redefine our priorities.  We begin to think: “This too is an experience.” We say, “I’ll get through it somehow!” We tell ourselves, “Well, there’s not much choice in the matter anyway, is there?” And although we adapt to external constraints, we discover that something deep inside us remains the same. Or rather, due to these very circumstances, that inner self revives.  A prisoner in solitary confinement, who has been deprived of sleep, of proper food and fresh air, and subjected to months of psychological stress, interrogation and even torture, may not recognize herself in the mirror, but her inner self is intact. Her soul is resilient.  She says, “Now I know who I am!”  

And we can say that too. This experience, has brought us closer together while keeping us apart. It has given us the chance to redefine our humanity and proven that this world is truly one. It has shown us that we are equally vulnerable, equally dependent on others. Perhaps our awareness of our common humanity, our shared fate, will eventually lead us to reconstruct a world of true health and tranquillity  –  for all.  That will be the real vaccine for COVID 19!

About the Author:

Mahvash Sabet is a poet, psychology teacher, and member of the Baha’i Yaran –  who experienced severe solitary confinement during a ten year sentence in the prisons of Iran.

Photo Credit: Image from Radio Free Europe Courtesy Image