Anxiety festers around the world in virus era

PARIS — A recent cartoon in the French daily Le Monde featured a bedraggled man arriving at a doctor’s office for a COVID19 vaccine.

“I am here for the fifth shot because of the third wave,” he says. “Or vice versa.”

His bewilderment as France suffers its fifth wave of the pandemic, with cases of the delta variant rising sharply along with omicron anxiety, captured a mood of exhaustion and simmering anger across the world two years after the deadly virus began to spread in China.

Uncertainty bedevils plans. Panic spreads in an instant even if, as with the omicron variant, the extent of the threat is not yet known. Vaccines look like deliverance until they seem a little less than that. National responses diverge with no discernible logic. Anxiety and depression spread. So do loneliness and screen fatigue. The feeling grows that the COVID-19 era will go on for years, like plagues of old.

Even in China, with no reported COVID-19 deaths since January, some confess weariness with the measures that have kept them safe when so many others perished.

“I’m so tired of all these routines,” Chen Jun, 29, a tech company worker in the southern Chinese city of Shenzhen, said the other day. He was forced to take three COVID-19 tests in June following an outbreak in the city, and then had to quarantine for 14 days. Thumbtacks he used to pin on a world map to trace his travels have stopped multiplying.

“I’m starting to think we’ll never see an end to the pandemic,” he said.

This sense of endlessness, accompanied by growing psychological distress leading to depression, was a recurrent theme in two dozen interviews conducted in Asia, Europe, Africa and the Americas. After two years of zigzagging policy and roller-coaster emotions, terrible loss and tantalizing false dawns, closing borders and intermittently shuttered schools, people’s resilience has dwindled.

That is sure to pose new challenges for leaders trying to protect their people and their economies.

“I know it will only get worse, it won’t stop, the pandemic will only turn more life-consuming,” said Natalia Shishkova, a teacher in Moscow. “It is all chaos, like a fantasy film. You watch all these apocalypse films and realize their writers were real prophets.”

Real progress in fighting the virus has been made. A year ago, vaccine rollouts were in their infancy. Today, about 47% of the world’s population is inoculated. If case numbers remain high, death rates have plunged. Yet life seems out of control.

The pandemic not only makes this month’s vacation or holiday celebrations seem uncertain, but also sometimes overwhelms understanding.

At the Paris laboratory of Maria Melchior, a French public health researcher who specializes in mental illness, in-person meetings had just been reinstated when, this week, she was told they would cease, with a return to Zoom gatherings.

“We no longer know when we will get back to normal,” Melchior said. And what is normal now? She paused.

“Well, at least a life without masks.”

In Kenya, with infections declining in October, President Uhuru Kenyatta lifted a long-standing curfew. Bars filled. Musicians lined up concert dates, as they have in many parts of the world, where theaters and opera houses have reopened. Spirits rose.

Then, the omicron variant hit. Even before any cases were reported there, Kenya’s leaders announced plans to bar unvaccinated people from offices and warned of new holiday-season restrictions.

Corrie Mwende, a communications specialist in Nairobi, said she had felt like “freedom was coming back” after a long period when “you could say it was like the end of the world.”

Today she is unsure her hope will be fulfilled.

China has pursued a zero COVID-19 policy, virtually shutting its borders and deploying mass-testing, snap lockdowns and hightech contact tracing.

At the other extreme, Russia, despite a high rate of deaths, has done little to restrict movement.

The 27-nation European Union is split over whether to make vaccines obligatory, and policies vary widely: soccer stadiums are empty again in Germany, where infection rates have surged, but full in France, where they have, too, but a presidential election looms in four months.

Britain, under Prime Minister Boris Johnson, has veered between herd immunity temptations and the kind of periodic restrictions now in force again to combat the omicron variant.

In Brazil, whose president, Jair Bolsonaro, has minimized the pandemic’s threat, the death toll has plunged to fewer than 300 a day from 3,000 in April. Samba concerts are back in the streets. Fireworks, after some back-and-forth, will light the sky over Copacabana beach to mark the New Year — unless some new disaster strikes.

Maybe that will be omicron; maybe not.

For now, every plan is a provisional plan.