It’s the beginning of an extended, indefinite period of confinement here in New York City. Last night at 8 p.m., all “non-essential” businesses were shuttered on orders from Governor Andrew Cuomo. New York State has become the epicenter of the coronavirus epidemic in the US, accounting for 6% of cases globally. Brooklyn, where I live, has been particularly hard-hit, although all of the city and surrounding suburbs have been affected.
The scene is surreal and apocalyptic, the streets quiet and empty. The odd pedestrian or two ventures out for groceries, masked and solitary. Mandated to maintain social distance, we avoid proximity, lest our bodies contaminate or be contaminated. We change our habits to avoid crowds, our friends, and the small interactions with neighbors that characterize our daily lives. We have become a danger to one another, and protecting our community now requires that we retreat into our homes, into ourselves. We must stay inside.
It’s a strange feeling to be living through a global pandemic right now, to be watching unfold in real time what I, as a historian of medicine, have spent years studying: the conflict between civil liberties and the common good. The notion of voluntarily suppressing aspects of one’s lifestyle in order to help others. The idea of submitting to a larger concept of society. The efforts of government and public health officials to deliver effective edicts in the midst of a constantly changing situation.
Even in more normal times, I follow the public health news closely, both in the US and around the world. But now, the sheer amount of information is overwhelming, the numbers staggering. In Italy, people are dying faster than they can be buried. Doctors worldwide, and especially in New York, warn of critical shortages of ventilators and protective equipment. Delivery workers, grocery clerks, and others whose jobs bring a lot of human contact are terrified of becoming infected. But we are also hearing stories of courage among our health care professionals and other workers on the front lines, of mutual aid societies being set up to help our most vulnerable, of best practices from other countries, and of promising treatments on the horizon. Remember, as well, that while each death represents someone’s mother or brother or partner, many more have recovered from COVID-19 than have succumbed to it. The suffering—psychic, emotional, economic—is real, and it will get worse. And then at some point, the pandemic will be over.