Two Americas
by Anthony Arnold
March 2020
Pointcaster and a regular on the Pointcast ReCap Podcast, providing policy history and analysis, Anthony Arnold, shares why COVID-19 quarantines and lockdowns shows us that Americans are worse off than we think and why it angers him.
I’ve done all the things you’re supposed to do. Worked hard. Went to college. Done my best to raise a family and be the best employee I can be. All the things that everybody says help you get ahead, obtain security, and build a future? I’ve tried to do them all.
I haven’t been perfect of course. Who among us is? But I’ve done the best I can do. And for a while it seemed like I was starting to get ahead. My job was beginning
to recognize me, and my wife had just obtained a promotion that unlocked a different set of possibilities for us. Life wasn’t easy, and the finances were still a
little tight, but the future was starting to look better. I wouldn’t call it a guarantee, but it appeared for the first time that a decade spent grinding away was
starting to pay off.
And then this happened. This pandemic. This unexpected catastrophe. At first, it appeared that we truly were all in this together. That whatever pain lies ahead, and it surely does, we would all be united. Solidarity, while not a shield, is a nice pillar to lean on. It can’t keep the storms away, but it can provide a nice shelter under which a temporary respite can be achieved.
But the last week has disabused me of this notion. We are not in this together. We will not experience this catastrophe on anything approaching a level playing field. If the worst comes to pass then we will all suffer. But we will not suffer equally.
Over the last week I’ve watched as friends of mine, people who I know are no more capable than me and who have no more inherent right to safety than me, have stayed home. Their jobs have given them the greatest gift that anyone can have right now. The gift of security. Their problems, while certainly not trivial, have mostly consisted of how to navigate this strange new reality in which they find themselves.
Their jobs, if not necessarily secure, are of the kind that may be safer during these uncertain times. Their physical safety is as secure as possible right now. Protected from the outside world is the best anyone can hope for at this moment. I don’t mean to trivialize their problems. I’ve worked mostly alone for 6 years now, and understand the negative consequences that extreme isolation can take on a person’s psyche better than most. And all of them have friends and loved ones who they worry about. Those concerns are real, and I feel sorry for any person dealing with them right now.
But, the immediate problems for millions of Americans are going largely ignored right now. We don’t have the time to post on social media right now. We don’t have the time to make videos, or send dispatches about what it’s like trying to work from home. Our jobs aren’t secure. And our safety is still very much at risk.
We have either lost our jobs, or walk around with the executioner’s blade hovering above our neck, worrying about the call that we fear is right around the corner. Our futures, that we worked hard to try and build, have been dashed against the rocks. Whatever awaits on the other side of this we will feel the economic burden most acutely.
Our physical safety is not much better. Every day I walk outside my door and into a world that I now know holds some degree of danger for me, and do the same I’ve been doing for 6 years now. I meet with strangers. I go to locations around Indiana. I touch an uncountable number of foreign surfaces. Each of these interactions represents another possible entry point for disease. And I worry.
Not for myself. I’m not as young as I once was, but I’m young enough and healthy enough that I know my odds are far better than most. So it’s not my own well-being that worries me most. The person I worry about is my wife. She’s a diabetic, and so her risk of complications is higher than most. Every single day I come home and wonder if today is the day that I bring something into my house that could kill my wife.
It terrifies me if I’m being honest. I feel preemptively guilty. I’m positive that if something happens to her it will be my fault. In my head I’ve already convicted myself. Of course I cannot simply stay home. I cannot lock myself away from the danger. Because there are still bills to pay. The rent is still due. The bill collectors will not relent. And so I venture out 5 days a week with this unbearable burden on my shoulders.
If I sound angry about all of this, then it’s because I am. I’m furious. This is no way to live. Not one single person should have to choose between their physical safety in a time of crisis, and their economic security. The choice between those two is inherently cruel. It forces you to play a game that cannot be won. And yet, you must play, because our society does not allow any other game to be played at all.
But now the true rules of the game have been exposed for all of us to see. Millions of Americans have spent our lives trying to put ourselves in a position to win. But here, during the most tumultuous period most of us have ever experienced, we see that there is no winning. Not for most of us. The veil has been lifted, and we see that on one side we risk being swallowed whole by the relentless appetite of capitalism. Because the need for money will not, and cannot be stopped. And on the other side we risk our physical well-being. We risk losing that which is most precious.
Right now, for millions of us, we have finally seen that we cannot have both. We risk everything for the right to continue paying our bills for one more month. We shave years off our lives from stress alone, so that we can buy food. Here, while so many things around the world are crumbling, the Two Americas have finally shown themselves.
The one in which you are protected.
And the one in which you are not.
(Pictured: Anthony and Heather Arnold)