By Michael Brendan Dougherty
Friday, May 01, 2020
From the beginning of the COVID-19 crisis, it has been
obvious that the fates of public health and the economy were tied together.
Weeks before formalized “lockdown” policies began appearing, as news about the
danger of the coronavirus spread, economic activity dramatically slowed. And it
obviously won’t speed up again until the public in general has confidence that
going back out into the world is as relatively safe as it was before.
So now we face a serious dilemma. It goes something like
this: We don’t have enough money to stay idle, but we don’t have enough
confidence in testing to go out and spend again. The COVID-19 social contract
was cobbled together at alarming speed. Everyone quickly adopted three
assumptions: First, that the government would compensate — and, as much as
possible, make whole — those men and women who, for the sake of public health,
lost income, business, or their livelihoods; second, that we would in due
course build the kind of mass testing-and-contact-tracing system that would
allow us to isolate the sick, rather than locking down everybody; and third,
that we would adopt clear benchmark conditions for re-opening, and clear,
universal guidelines on masks, handshakes, hygiene, and the like to be followed
until we had a vaccine.
None of those assumptions has held up. Congress accepted
and arguably exacerbated the mass unemployment the pandemic immediately left in
its wake. Its limits on “paycheck protection” loans and other small-business
aid turned its relief program into a lottery. Talk of increasing test capacity
to millions per day has turned out to be just that — talk. Guidelines for
re-opening at the state level have proposed hopelessly vague metrics. And
federal guidelines, while more sound upon examination, have not been publicized.
Perhaps it was inevitable that all those hopes would be
dashed.
Elsewhere, even our successes have come with
unanticipated downsides. The lockdown policies were justified by the imperative
of “flattening the curve.” That meant slowing the transmission of the disease
to avoid the catastrophic medical-system collapses that sent death rates into
truly scary territory in Wuhan, China and Northern Italy. And for the most
part, we’ve done this. New York needed fewer ventilators than estimated. The naval-ship
hospital has already left city’s waters. The curve is flattened so much that
stories of New York emergency rooms filling to the brim have been crowded out
by stories of hospitals that are eerily empty. People fearful of contracting
the virus have delayed seeking medical attention for other problems. With
elective surgeries cancelled, hospitals are actually laying off staff to
balance the books. We’ve flattened the curve so much to prevent our hospitals
from being overwhelmed that they’re now in greater danger of being
underwhelmed.
It is, of course, a good thing that New York didn’t
become Northern Italy, and that although there have been scary weeks in
Seattle, Detroit, and New Orleans, none of those cities became New York. But
when is the conversation going to change to reflect as much?
The lockdowns began with both suspicion and trust. The
suspicion was that China wouldn’t shut down its industrial heartland and
Italians wouldn’t give up their lives as free citizens for nothing. The trust
was that our scientists were right. That Americans have cooperated so widely
and readily with social-distancing directives is astonishing. But they have
done so based on the conviction that COVID-19 was roughly twice as
transmissible as the flu, and possibly ten times as deadly. Is that true in
every environment? Every region? Every climate? Does avoiding a doubling and
redoubling of the awful American death toll require this sustained and
intrusive lockdown? Or can masks and a little more care and circumspection do
the trick?
We haven’t gotten consistent answers to such questions,
and it has left us unsure. In some cases, this confusion was understandable;
there is no good science on a new virus. But if they expect continued
compliance, authorities have to be clear, consistent, and honest about what
their experts are telling them, and about how confident they are in its
accuracy. In the absence of sounder science more soundly communicated, the
public will act upon its own understandable anxiety and take signs of abatement
as signs of hope, or even invitations to begin rebuilding their lives,
livelihoods, and businesses. If the authorities find this behavior foolish,
then they must persuade us through intelligent legislative acts, provision, and
publicity.
If they can’t — if government institutions cannot tie
public health and the economy together in a collective national effort — then
Americans can, must, and will begin to divide and make their own arrangements.
Non-essential workers who can will work illicitly. People will get into
screaming matches over masks and personal space in grocery stores until new
social norms emerge.
Nature is not obliged to cooperate with our civilization,
however much we might wish it were. A disease could always come along that
wrecks our arrangements for good. A previous civilization on the American
continent was destroyed by plague. But humans have a nature too, and the
present lockdowns cannot be sustained without the proper combination of hope
for sufficient federal aid and fear of the virus that satisfies it.
Both of those things are diminishing, and so the
lockdowns are not long for this world. They’ll end just as they began: with the
American people taking the lead because their elected officials can’t or won’t,
muddling their way through an impossible dilemma.
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