Think back to March, three years ago, when our kids got an extra-long March Break that, for some of them, extended for another year or more.
The reason was a scary new virus from Wuhan, China. To avoid any stigma, the powers-that-be tried to stick to its scientific name, SARS-CoV-2, which eventually mutated into COVID-19, short for coronavirus disease 2019.
Naming diseases can cause problems. According to an article in the scientific journal Science, swine flu, although not transmitted by pigs, led to some countries banning pork products or slaughtering the animals. Naming diseases for geographic locations has stigmatized populations and damaged tourism – and as was discovered during COVID, can still get people beat up, spat on or sworn at.
The new name for the coronavirus from Wuhan came too late; the damage had already been done.
In addition to vicious assaults, there were cases of folks refusing to dine at their favourite Chinese restaurant or sit next to someone whose appearance was Asian.
Even now, there are a good many people, including some in the American government, who insist the virus originated in a Chinese lab. Of course, the Chinese government has said much the same thing, in reverse.
The scientific community continues to offer explanations on how viruses constantly mutate, sometimes enabling them to jump from an animal host to human, with devastating consequences.
The problem is, the scientific explanation does not capture the imagination the way the political one does. A noisy, smelly live animal market versus a mysterious secret lab run by crazed scientists … the lab wins.
Unfortunately, xenophobia seems to have been a common reaction to pandemics throughout history, and COVID was no different.
Whatever the cause, COVID happened and a lot of people died. While the scientific community strived to battle the virus with public health and medical measures, the non-scientific community offered up a bizarre and, in truth, sometimes entertaining hodgepodge of misinformation, with total denial the favoured fallback.
Remember the folks who shunned COVID-19 vaccinations but had no problem guzzling aquarium cleaner, taking horse dewormer or gargling with bleach? And what about the ones who partied on with all their friends during the pre-vaccination days, when avoiding crowds and staying six feet away from non-family members was among the more effective ways to avoid transmitting the virus?
At various stages during the pandemic, there were attacks on both people who refused to wear masks and those who insisted on wearing them. At one point, the anti-mask contingent took to stopping ambulances from getting to hospitals, and haranguing hospital employees trying to get to work.
And then there were vaccination passports, which triggered all sorts of responses, including homemade exemption documents and loud confrontations in restaurants and arena lobbies.
The pandemic triggered a fierce protest against public health measures, culminating in a three-week takeover of downtown Ottawa.
There was a certain irony in the fact that the events in Ottawa occurred just as many measures were coming to an end.
The COVID-19 pandemic brought out the good – a made-in-Ontario mass vaccination clinic model designed to make maximum use of a limited number of medical personnel, non-medical volunteers and hockey arenas; unprecedented support from business and industry that included everything from donations of special freezers for vaccine storage, to producing and donating hand sanitizer and other supplies; and those charming “we’re all in this together” window posters and trees bedecked with ribbons to honour our brave and dedicated health-care professionals.
It also brought out the bad, the ugly – there was no such thing as a neutral position on masking, vaccinations and self-isolation – and the totally bizarre. Remember toilet paper hoarding? Runs at local grocery stores on bananas?
One can only hope that during the next pandemic – there will be a next pandemic, probably sooner rather than later – people think back to COVID and make a conscious effort to honour the heroes, listen to science and stick together.
Such measures look better on us as a society than xenophobia, horn-honking and drinking aquarium cleaner.
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Pauline Kerr is a reporter with Midwestern Newspapers.
