We are taught as children in America that we’re free to do what we want, but of course that’s not the case. Our freedoms are limited by all kinds of things, all the time.
First, there are physical limitations, imposed by nature and genetics. My freedom is limited to what my body, physically, can do. No amount of training is going to make me a quantum physicist or a professional basketball player. It’s safe to say that even were I born longing to play pro hoops or write mile-long equations, nature would limit me.
We also live with social limitations, imposed by our relationships, including an obligation to those who raised us. We are loyal to our families and to those who have helped us. This is a type of limitation imposed by conscience and history, but also by our survival instincts: We can rely on those who rely on us.
For ethical, political and legal reasons, we also accept limits to our freedom. We live in groups of people who operate on a common set of rules established – ideally – for our general benefit, personally and communally. We can’t drive a car without putting on a safety belt. We can’t smoke cigarettes in airplanes. We can’t throw garbage where we like.
Most of us accept this third set of limitations without much thought, as it’s evident they’re in our best interest. The evidence is that we can see and understand the consequences of unrestricted freedom to throw trash, smoke in cramped areas and drive without a safety belt.
The backlash against stay-at-home restrictions during the COVID pandemic reveals that we’re not all of one mind about what’s in our best interest. This is also natural, as there are few limits on our freedom – prohibition of murder is one – that are universally accepted.
The question becomes then, how does a majority of people who support a certain limitation on freedom convince a minority to agree to a new limitation? With COVID, the question is complicated by the fact that we have few examples that demonstrate the immediate consequences of not strictly following recommended restrictions.
So gaining wide acceptance of this restriction on freedom is tricky, not entirely unlike say, acceptance of speeding regulations.
Many of us drive above the speed limit because we can and because we see little harmful consequence of pushing the envelope when the state trooper’s not around. Sure, speeding can have fatal consequences, just like ignoring COVID precautions, but in most situations, mostly likely not. Strict adherence to speeding laws would require exponentially increasing spending on police, so as a community and individuals we accept the risk and consequences of speeding, which we can grasp, while agreeing there should be posted limits.
Living with the consequences of say, people not wearing masks to the grocery store, is more problematic because the immediate consequences of not wearing a mask are more difficult to know with certainty.
Here in independently minded, small-town Alaska, we can’t berate or cajole people into wearing masks. We can’t legislate our way there either, with laws and cops, without risking antagonism that would lead to intentional noncompliance and unnecessary friction. If our goal as a community is to reduce risk, our challenge then is to increase voluntary compliance.
Mayor Andrew Cremata of Skagway issued a statement Tuesday that epitomized the best approach – appealing to our concern and respect for our neighbors, who may be more vulnerable to the virus, or even just more vulnerable to fear of it.
“Nobody in our local government is going to force anyone to do anything, especially me,” Cremata said. “This means it’s up to you to think about your actions, put aside your personal desires and opinions, and consider the community as a whole. Skagway’s strength has always been kindness. Today and in the coming weeks, as you go about your business, I ask that you think kindly on the people you encounter and act accordingly.”
Because it forces nothing and appeals to our better nature, kindness is a message that resonates; because it does, it’s the approach most likely to work.