This is an essay that I wrote on June 7:
But now it’s June, and spring is becoming summer. As locking down turns to opening up, the consensus has vanished. The decisions seem much harder. We remain so uncertain about the nature and extent of the risks. When and on what terms can we gather again? How should we balance the costs and benefits?
In March, the agreed upon goal was to flatten the curve. By limiting contact with each other, we could lower the rate of infection. By lowering the rate of infection, we could prevent hospitals from being overwhelmed. Those who fell ill would receive the necessary resources and attention. We would all play a role in helping those at greatest risk.Implicit in the goal of flattening the curve, for many of us, was a more personal goal. We wanted to prevent ourselves — and those we love — from becoming infected. The virus is fatal for a certain (still unknown) percentage of those infected. Descriptions of the way that the virus attacks some of its victims are frightening.
In other words: by closing down society, yes, we were helping to protect the most vulnerable, but we were also taking steps to protect ourselves and those closest to us.
The curve has been flattened. Now, our political leaders — along with some public health experts — tell us that we can resume many of our old routines. We are told to take precautions, to wear a mask and maintain a six-foot distance, but the sense of crisis seems to have lifted. The President practically implores us to start shopping and eating out again. In his words and his demeanor, he projects certainty that the emergency has passed.
But the overriding emotion for many of us is uncertainty. If it made sense to avoid gathering in groups two months ago, for our personal safety and the health of our communities, then why is it ok now? What has really changed? The statistics twist and turn, with spikes in infection in one place and a gradual decline in another.
Psychologists say that it takes between three and ten weeks to form a habit. The period of strict social distancing lasted for approximately eight weeks in many places. Habits were formed. We learned to be wary of interacting with others (our co-workers, our neighbors, even our extended families) too closely. We learned to wash our hands after every encounter with a surface that could recently have been touched by someone else. We learned to analyze each activity in terms of its capacity to expose ourselves and others to a deadly disease.
Now, as the world reopens, I wonder how long it takes to unlearn a habit. Having become accustomed to warily viewing the world through the lens of a pandemic, how do we adjust to re-entry?
My final questions arise from my perspective as a father. My oldest child is ten, and my youngest is four. I think often about the long term effects that the life-altering experiences of this spring will have on them. Will they and their peers be better equipped to deal with uncertainty than my generation? Will they have more capacity to anticipate the unexpected, and therefore be better problem solvers? Will they be more or less risk averse than their parents? Will they decide that big challenges can only be addressed on a broad (even global) scale, or will they retreat into themselves and build walls whenever a potential threat arises?
We are still at the beginning of a long journey. Amid all of the uncertainty, two things are sure: our perspectives about the virus will continue to evolve, and many difficult decisions lie ahead. Winter became spring, and now spring turns to summer. We are already so much older, and yet the fall and winter still wait in the distance.
But the overriding emotion for many of us is uncertainty. If it made sense to avoid gathering in groups two months ago, for our personal safety and the health of our communities, then why is it ok now? What has really changed? The statistics twist and turn, with spikes in infection in one place and a gradual decline in another.
Now, as the world reopens, I wonder how long it takes to unlearn a habit. Having become accustomed to warily viewing the world through the lens of a pandemic, how do we adjust to re-entry?
My final questions arise from my perspective as a father. My oldest child is ten, and my youngest is four. I think often about the long term effects that the life-altering experiences of this spring will have on them. Will they and their peers be better equipped to deal with uncertainty than my generation? Will they have more capacity to anticipate the unexpected, and therefore be better problem solvers? Will they be more or less risk averse than their parents? Will they decide that big challenges can only be addressed on a broad (even global) scale, or will they retreat into themselves and build walls whenever a potential threat arises?
We are still at the beginning of a long journey. Amid all of the uncertainty, two things are sure: our perspectives about the virus will continue to evolve, and many difficult decisions lie ahead. Winter became spring, and now spring turns to summer. We are already so much older, and yet the fall and winter still wait in the distance.
