COVID’S Long-Term Ramifications
It feels as if all my pieces throughout the last few editions have touched upon Covid at least once. From recreation to politics, this pandemic has loomed over every aspect of life, and its mention is inescapable. Fortunately, the finite span of its cruel hegemony is becoming quantifiable, with Pfizer announcing recently that they have developed a vaccine that is ninety percent effective. Though it will take the FDA months to potentially approve of its use, the mere hope afforded by this alights the imagination, as forbidden pastimes of yore emphatically call to be resurrected. One is permitted to dream of crossing the horizon, but it is worth noting that our perception of what lies beyond may be deceptive. We as people seem implicitly expectant of a return to life “as it was.” However, it is likely that the virus has impacted us profoundly enough to permanently alter the functional mechanisms and collective mindset of our society.
The last such inflection point in America came with the September 11th attacks nearly twenty years ago. Although I was too young to remember the tragedy, my parents witnessed the twin towers collapse in person, and had known people who perished. It had taken them a long time to reckon with the grief of loss, coupled with a disinclination to go anywhere. My father owned a restaurant in Midtown Manhattan, and saw that this fear pervaded through New York when his sales dangerously declined. Although the wounds of loss slowly healed as the city rebuilt and people began returning to their lives, there was a lasting paradigm shift in the United States as a whole that insidiously took hold. Americans became more distrustful of the outside world, and were thus more amicable in aggregate to actions such as invading Iraq. It also allowed for policies such as the Patriot Act that allowed organizations like the NSA to curtail privacy under the pretenses of safety.
Although analyzing a terrorist attack to consider the ramifications of a virus may seem akin to comparing apples and oranges, parallels may be plausibly drawn. Both paradigm shifts caused us to collectively reckon with our mortality and devise measures for self-preservation. The vestiges of post-9/11 precautions can be seen at the TSA lines of any domestic airport. In the case of the Coronavirus, the post-pandemic world may most notably be different in the context of our work environment. We have millions of office employees conducting their work remotely, while largely blue-collar “essential workers” continue their jobs in person, bearing the risk of sickness to make a living. Many in the former camp are finding that their employers may continue offering a remote work option even after a vaccine is found, which will have lasting social implications.
To this point, the majority of wealthy Americans reside either in or near large cities, as these areas are the central organs of white-collar affairs. However, if one is allowed to work entirely remotely, they may instead opt to live in a more remote area where prices are lower. This would accelerate current trends of middle and upper-middle class residents leaving cities like New York, and may leave a situation of uncertainty for those who remain, either by their own volition or from a lack of alternatives. On one hand, it may work out to their benefit, as a reduced demand on property may drive down the cost of living. However, these benefits are prone to being offset by the consequences which accompany them.
A lower population would mean a reduced demand in local businesses, and may very well be enough to shutter many of those who were able to survive the era of quarantine. The vacuum caused by vacant residential and commercial areas can quickly lead to destitution, and the lack of municipal funds to address it. Such trends are known too well in Rust Belt cities like SUNY Poly’s native Utica, which is still rebuilding itself over half a century later. Whether this impacts how Americans view the notions of class and social mobility is yet to be seen, but lasting sentiments of fear and resentment do not seem unlikely. Either way, a complete return to normalcy appears illusory, and my only hope is that the government confronts this uncertainty with more beneficial policies than had been seen following our last inflection point.
