The COVID Jerk — The Atlantic
“As COVID-safety standards evolve in the next weeks or months, I recommend the following principles of non-jerkitude:
Be open. Don’t hide your vaccination status. Don’t hide a positive test result. Even if you think these things don’t matter now that COVID caseloads are declining, others might disagree. Respecting others means letting them know what risks you bring so that they can respond according to their own comfort level.
Adhere to rule and custom. If the supermarket requires masks, wear a mask, even if you think it’s silly. People less tolerant of COVID risk still need to work and shop, and they rely on others’ compliance with policy in deciding when, where, and how to appear in public. For the same reason, even if there’s no explicit rule, don’t be the one person violating customary precautions.
Be willing to compromise. Maybe you think that children should start playing together again without restriction, but another parent in your playdate group feels more cautious. Try respectful conversation aimed at compromise. Can you discover a mutually acceptable set of standards? I should stress here that COVID-cautious people can also be COVID jerks by insisting too stridently on precautions that others find excessive rather than respectfully considering alternative points of view.
Don’t inflict unusual risks or costs on others without their consent. Ordinary living entails inflicting some unwelcome risks and costs on others. We drive our cars, putting not only other drivers but also cyclists and pedestrians at risk. We burn firewood for a cozy winter atmosphere, compromising outdoor air quality. We host noisy parties and talk on our cellphones in public, annoying those around us for our own convenience. It’s part of the implicit
social contract, so to speak, that we do these things within ordinary bounds. If the noisy party runs unusually late, if you swoop within inches of a pedestrian at 30 mph, or if you’re shouting ragefully into your cellphone right at the edge of an outdoor café, you break the implicit contract—unless the affected people somehow indicate consent. The same applies with COVID. If you’d like to do something that puts others at unusual risk—and what is “unusual” will vary with time and locale—get consent first.
None of these principles requires that you have a particular opinion about COVID safety. Go ahead and argue against mask requirements at town-hall meetings—but wear a mask if that’s the policy. Petition your school to change the quarantine rules—while continuing to abide by them. You might be mistaken, or you might be correct, but either way you are respecting the people around you.
Nor do these principles require you to live according to your most cautious friend’s code of conduct. If you feel comfortable eating at a restaurant or drinking at a bar, that’s your call. Yes, you might catch COVID (perhaps you’ll be seated downwind of Sarah Palin). You might even inadvertently pass the disease to someone else, perhaps a relative. But if you haven’t been a jerk about it—if you’ve been open, rule-compliant, and respectful; if you told Dad how you’ve been living before exposing him to the indirect risk—then that’s bad luck, not an ethical slip.”
The recurring word?
Respect.
