“Resilience” used to mean something clear—how well a thing bounced back after pressure. Now it’s been turned into a virtue, a buzzword, and a subtle way to avoid fixing anything.
Governments love it. Corporations praise it. Self-help gurus sell it. But the people living through failure don’t need resilience—they need support.
What Resilience Really Means
Resilience isn’t noble. It’s survival. You don’t praise a cracked dam for holding a bit longer—you fix the damn thing.
But modern life treats endurance like excellence.
You lost your job? Evicted? Sick with no leave? You didn’t collapse? Wow, so resilient!
No. That’s not strength. That’s what happens when you’re left with no choice.
Covid and the Cult of Coping
Remember early in the pandemic? Nurses without PPE were resilient. Teachers managing chaos were resilient. Kids stuck on Zoom were resilient.
Meanwhile, executives cashed bonuses and leaders tweeted encouragement.
Resilience became a slogan. Not a solution.
Why “Resilient” Is a Cop-Out
Calling people resilient is a subtle way to say, “We know this is awful, but look how well you’re handling it. So we won’t change anything.”
Systems fail. People struggle. And instead of outrage or action, we call it resilience and move on. Applauding survival is easier than providing safety.
What We Really Need
We don’t need more resilience. We need less reason to be resilient.
Decent housing. Fair wages. Safe schools. Clean water. Reliable care. You know—civilization.
Let people rest. Let them grieve. Let them not be strong all the time.
Conclusion
No, we’re not resilient. We’re tired. We’re not heroic. We’re surviving.
And honestly, the miracle isn’t that we’re bouncing back—it’s that we’re still here at all.
Filed under: “Things That Survived the Pandemic (Barely).”
Still not dead. Still not impressed.