Sam VanderVeer was an adviser to the late federal finance minister Jim Flaherty
In mid-March, in the early days of the COVID-19 crisis, New York Times columnist David Brooks predicted that the pandemic would do significant damage to the social fabric of our societies. He warned of a “moral disease” with symptoms such as distrust and disunity that would accompany the physical ones. “Pandemics kill compassion, too” was the headline and, “you may not like who you’re about to become,” was the warning. Reflecting on the past few months, Mr. Brooks recently (and happily) reported that his dire prediction was wrong.
But was it?
It’s no doubt true that since the onset of lockdowns, border closings, shutterings of businesses and social isolation, we’ve seen people come together in a wonderful way. We’ve witnessed countless selfless acts, have cheered for health care workers and, perhaps for the first time, recognized the courage and importance of front line workers in grocery stores, gas stations and pharmacies.
In witnessing the terrible toll that COVID-19 has taken, particularly in robbing us of our grandparents and other family and friends, we’ve been forced to encounter the fragility and sanctity of life. We share the sorrow of those who are unable to say goodbye properly.
In short, despite the fundamentally anti-human nature of isolation, many of us have in fact felt closer to one another.
With the exception of a few incidents, we’ve come to practise social solidarity and exhibit a genuine spirit of togetherness. And we’ve shown an extraordinary deference to authority and a faith in our governments.
It’s striking, in fact, that despite all the talk about widespread erosion of faith in institutions over the past several years, the vast majority of people have followed the directions of governments and health authorities without much, or any, need for state coercion. The stories of over-eager bylaw officers understandably get a lot of attention, but there’s no question they’re the exception rather than the rule.
But governments shouldn’t take our trust or togetherness for granted. They’re not infinite resources, as recent events such as the widespread protests against police brutality have powerfully demonstrated. If political leaders aren’t careful, they may hasten the social malady that Mr. Brooks warned about.
The antidote to such an outcome is that our governments must reciprocate the trust that the public has granted to them. Political leaders must trust their populations enough to communicate honestly and plainly the policy objectives ahead of reopening our economies and societies, and the trade-offs and sacrifices required to meet them.
This type of reciprocal trust hasn’t always been evident to date. There have been various examples where political leaders seem to have obfuscated. We now know, for instance, that the federal government’s initial resistance to travel restrictions was shaped more by politics than evidence. It also seems clear that Ottawa’s initial guidance about wearing masks was driven more by bungled procurements than science. These cases risk eroding public trust and creating an atmosphere of suspicion.
So does political rhetoric that characterizes unquestioning adherence to social and economic restrictions as a test of morality or love of country. Governments can’t admonish people into doing their version of “the right thing” forever.
This approach to public policy risks pitting neighbours against neighbours and family against family, which is bad enough in and of itself. It’s also a tactical mistake.
Canadians have demonstrated that they’re prepared to sacrifice a lot if the evidence shows it will protect their neighbours and grandparents. But the onus is on political leaders to communicate the evidence and their underlying policy objectives in a clear and dispassionate way.
What’s the plan? What are the benefits and costs? Are we making progress? How will we know?
These are the objective questions that political leaders should be addressing rather than the subjective moralizing and false patriotism that has crept into much of their public communications. Telling people the truth is hard, and for politicians in particular it takes courage. But not doing so at a time when both fear and frustration are on the rise runs the risk of division, resentment and ultimately distrust.
Tell us what the objective is and what we need to do to get our lives back. Be honest about the trade-offs. It isn’t about choosing between saving lives and saving jobs. That’s rightly regarded as a false choice. Instead it’s about understanding our objectives and the plans to get there.
Trust us as much as we trust you. We can handle it.
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