There’s a litmus test, proposed by an anonymous forum user, revolving around shopping carts. The idea is that returning a shopping cart is a simple, easy task which is always possible. Returning the shopping cart means doing something good for someone you may never meet. Leaving it in the parking lot, while marginally easier, will create more work for somebody else. Nobody will punish you for not returning the cart, however – there is no fine, and no law mandating it. “You must return the shopping cart out of the goodness of your own heart,” the forum user writes. “The Shopping Cart is what determines whether a person is a good or bad member of society.” There is a moral imperative to do good, when possible. And yet when people are presented with the choice of wearing a simple mask to protect others from COVID-19 or to go without and potentially hurt other people, the scales tilt overwhelmingly toward the latter.
Our society functions on the trust that we won’t be harmed by the people around us. When we eat at a restaurant, we trust the chef has washed their hands. When we ride public transportation, we trust that the driver won’t veer us off-road. You trust that while you read this article, your device isn’t being used as a cryptocurrency miner. This social contract works both ways; just as other people protect you, you’re obligated to protect them. You stop at red lights. You call a rideshare for drunk friends, instead of letting them drive. You don’t come into work if you’re sick. This exchange of safety is why people can exist comfortably, and most of us don’t even think about it. Invisibly monitoring the well-being of others comes naturally, ingrained into our behavior through our culture. Masks, however, have become a black sheep; the idea of protecting people’s physical health is imperative until it comes time to don a face mask. Why isolate masks as the one situation where people aren’t obligated to keep each other safe?
Students, when asked whether they do or don’t mask, overwhelmingly answered that they don’t, with the most common reason being a gut feeling that they wouldn’t get other people sick. “I know for a fact that I don’t have Covid and test regularly at home,” said one, adding that “… I do feel some level of guilt, but I do know I’m not making other people sick.” Another declared that “… to most, it straight up doesn’t exist anymore.” The common thread is a sort of nonchalance – a trust that everything will be okay, even if they do nothing. COVID is out of sight, thus out of mind; meanwhile, the pandemic rages on, aided by this indifference.
There’s no room for debate on whether or not COVID is still prevalent, or whether it hurts people. At least 7% of Americans have long-term health effects from a COVID infection, according to the CDC. We’ve known for years that people who aren’t symptomatic can transmit the disease, meaning many people who otherwise don’t appear sick are giving COVID-19 to others. Since nobody looks or sounds sick, it’s easy to pretend that nobody’s sick. This creates an illusion of safety that shatters once raw data is factored in: According to Biobot, a wastewater research institute partnered with the CDC, COVID-19 is almost four times more prevalent than it was in 2020. While restrictions on travel were being lifted and people were freeing up their smiles, COVID killed 1,100,000 people – one in three-hundred Americans. Listen in class, and notice how many more people are coughing than used to. Look at the graveyards, and count the epitaphs. It doesn’t have to be like this.
On New Year’s Day, 2023, my ability to laugh was stolen by my first COVID-19 infection. I’d been masking for the three years since the pandemic began, and I was infected when someone else decided to go without for one day. After being bedridden nearly an entire week – even with up-to-date vaccinations – I assumed I was fine and the worst was over. When I went to my favorite fighting game event a month later, trying to laugh at a goofy interaction sent me into a 40-second coughing fit. To this day, I still double over if I laugh too hard, still have to monitor my enjoyment to stop myself from expelling my lungs over a good joke – all because one person chose not to wear a mask.
Most people will claim they’re good people. Most people, if asked, will say they have a fair amount of empathy, and they care about the people around them. And, for the most part, they’re right. But without actions to back up the words, empty care won’t take us out of the COVID era. Wear a mask, and save lives. It’s even easier than returning a shopping cart.