In the time warp caused by our current crisis, I realize with a jolt that a mere two weeks have passed since I sat in a pizza restaurant with N., sharing slices and drinking soda, back when we could still go places and do things. These days I spend a large portion of my time looking out the window, surveying the streetscape, watching the comings and goings of delivery workers whose labors allow many of us the luxury of minimizing the disruptions to our lives right now. I watch a couple that lives across the street as they toilet-train their new puppy. When it’s raining, the dog tries to run back into the building; when it’s nice out, he (she?) struggles against the leash, hoping to stay out a little longer. Even for dogs, it seems, confinement can take its toll.
The coronavirus has produced new rituals, new protocols. When packages arrive, I quarantine them in a corner of my apartment for twenty-four hours. When I get home from the grocery store, I shower immediately and then wash my clothes. Is this unreasonable, an overreaction? Perhaps. But perhaps not. In the face of uncertainty, we adapt our behavior as a salve against the unknown, to give us a sense of control over the uncontrollable. Studies show this coronavirus is most often transmitted through the air, or by touching something that an infected person has sneezed or coughed on and then touching one’s eyes, nose or mouth. There are no recorded instances of the virus being transferred through food packaging or through the mail; it can live on surfaces for several days, but it appears to degrade steadily over that time.
Still, we adopt measures to reduce our risk. In industrialized countries, our biggest disease threats are chronic illnesses: heart disease, cancer, obesity-related ailments. Each has a behavioral element to its etiology. Our wellness industry prescribes “healthy” habits to reduce our risk of sickness: at their most basic, exercise, eat well, and don’t smoke. But the coronavirus has upended the normal calculus of risk and disease. Our responsibility cannot simply be to ourselves; it must encompass others, as well. Staying at home and washing my hands can protect me, but it also protects you from me. My health status, and perhaps my life, depend on your adherence to these same public health recommendations. In our highly individualized society, we are being forced to rethink the responsibility each of us has to our neighbors and fellow citizens. Risk is no longer personal; it has become communal.