The torment of hope in the time of the plague
“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.”
NEW YORK » I have been thinking about Nietzsche’s typically dour observation recently as my hometown confronts yet another coronavirus wave. Back in the spring of 2020, I had hope — based on models of the pandemic’s expected course — that it would fade away by summer. We know how that went. Hundreds of thousands of deaths later, I should have known better than to hold out any expectation of things improving. And yet I did.
This fall, once again I thought I saw light at the end of the tunnel, only to discover that it was the lamp of an oncoming locomotive. I was foolhardy enough in October to book a family trip to France over the holidays with friends. It was a tradition that we had foregone the past two years and were eager to resurrect. We were all fully vaccinated, and the delta wave seemed to be cresting. It seemed safe enough. Then came the omicron wave, washing away the best-laid holiday plans of millions.
Now we anxiously scan the headlines to see whether France is going to close to American tourists as it has already closed to British ones. Even if France remains open, we fret that one of our family members — or more than one — will test positive for the coronavirus and be unable to go. And even if we do make it there, will we be able to make it back? What if one of us tests positive over there?
The anxiety is debilitating. The prospect of a vacation shouldn’t be so stressful. Given that most of my family is triple-vaccinated (all except a 14-year-old who isn’t allowed to be boosted), I am not particularly afraid of the health risks of catching omicron, at least for us. What I am afraid of is the psychological and economic impact of omicron on a society just beginning to dream of a return to “normality.”
Now, omicron caseloads are skyrocketing in New York City; soon it will be the same all over the country. Companies are again closing offices. Broadway shows and sporting events are again being canceled. Universities are again suspending in-person classes, and rumors abound that schools will be next. Hardy diners are again shivering in freezing temperatures because we don’t want to risk eating indoors.
Once again, we are all forced to become amateur epidemiologists trying to assess which activities are safe and which aren’t. We have been going to the movies ever since the spring. We even went to our first Broadway show since the pandemic started (“The Lehman Trilogy” — I can’t recommend it highly enough). But is it too big a risk to run now? What about taking the subway or going to the gym? You have to make countless difficult decisions and constantly fret that you made a mistake. Once again, you have to wonder if every sniffle or cough is just a cold — or COVID?
This is the last thing I ever expected nearly two years since the onset of the pandemic, and yet here we are. We all desperately want to return to normal life, but the virus has other ideas.
Whose fault is this? I blame the unvaccinated
— the roughly 100 million Americans who refuse, for perverse reasons, to get fully immunized. I am part of the silent majority that wears our masks, gets our vaccine shots and now finds ourselves at the mercy of the selfish blockheads who refuse to take even minimal steps to combat the deadliest pandemic in U.S. history. They are being egged on by demagogues such as former Alaska governor Sarah Palin. She just told a right-wing gathering, to cheers, that it will be “over my dead body that I’ll have to get a shot.” Given how many COVID deniers have died of the disease, that stance could prove prophetic for some people.
But honestly, at this point, I am too exhausted to even be all that angry. I just want this to end.
And I have to acknowledge that even countries such as Denmark and the United Kingdom, which have higher vaccination rates, are still being hammered by omicron. We would have had many fewer deaths in the United States if we had had more competent leadership. (A new House report finds fresh “evidence of the Trump Administration’s deliberate efforts to undermine the nation’s coronavirus response for political purposes.”) But even if Franklin D. Roosevelt or Abraham Lincoln had been in charge, we still would be struggling with omicron today.
So much of this pandemic seems to be beyond our comprehension or control. It makes you realize how insignificant we humans are, how little our designs count compared with the caprices of nature. Yet — foolish man — I still dream of better, brighter days. I read the news from South Africa — that omicron cases already might be peaking, with half the hospitalizations of the delta wave — and I pray that our experience will be similar.
Haven’t I learned anything? I continue to be tormented by hope.
Whose fault is this? I blame the unvaccinated — the roughly 100 million Americans who refuse, for perverse reasons, to get fully immunized.