By Gregory Iwan
When I started out in a work life my duties centered on radiation protection at a nuclear power plant. National and state rules for avoiding, limiting, or responding to exposure of individuals and the public at large were stringent, specific, inflexible. These measures carried the force of law and took no notice of ethnicity, life station, or political persuasion. Location and age mattered a lot. I took these provisions seriously, for they applied to those working within the plant and those living outside the fence. Awareness of weather, reactor operation, and temporal population was vital, as was a mental map for evacuation and communication.
Sound familiar? Living near or working in such a plant may seem like a rare situation. But COVID-19 places us all in a similar fix. Today we’re all “downwind;” any of us can be “overexposed” to a dangerous degree. Not to acknowledge that is to flaunt responsibility, tempt fate. In that plant it wasn’t only a possible legal sanction or a lawsuit hung around my neck, it was the real possibility of someone dying due to an emission beyond his control. Worse yet, a plant worker could carry a lethal presence home to his family. And, like COVID, this presence cannot be seen, heard, smelled, or tasted.
We are all lepers now. Faced by a submicroscopic villain, we receive guidance, warning, pleas, cajoling, and yes, even intimidation in an effort to limit the spread of and carnage endured from this insidious virus.
What happens in a jurisdiction like Weld County says to me that people have embraced fear. Not fear of the immediate and reputedly bluffed danger from a sickness that arrived a year ago straight from left field (pardon the political reference), but, I suspect, fear that one’s range of action will be arbitrarily constrained or one’s lifestyle capriciously limited. I get that. “Joining in” is anathema, because it removes one’s independence. Rosa Parks showed a lot of independence when she chose to try to build community. And didn’t she get on that bus before the guy who demanded her seat? Both sides might have claimed legitimacy there. Rectitude is determined by the ultimate result.
Look, I really don’t enjoy wearing a mask. Worse is that others whose speech I cannot understand is muffled by one. But I do it and carry a spare hooked over my rear-view mirror. Respect? Yes. Responsibility? I hope so. I also hate that restaurants, coffee shops, and breweries must suffer as “point men” in our reconnaissance of the current unknown.
Radiation exposure is reduced through three time-tested principles: time, distance, and shielding. Those whom we pay to learn, then to protect and strongly advise us, try to give us — the vulnerable populace — aid by limiting the amount of time we spend in a crowded or poorly ventilated indoor space. They require businesses to erect plexiglass shields and sometimes to wear face shields. They ask us to maintain “social” distance. I’ve seen this film before. And it works. If we reject such things, what do we tell those who visit our county? How do we encourage them not to infect us, and not to carry the scourge home? If we don’t welcome being told “what to do,” what does that say about long-term common, societal values? Children learn what they see, not what they hear. They’re glued to their phones anyway. But they do really notice how we conduct ourselves in most situations. I know of no free pass to credibility there.
If the local, formerly clean swimming hole were suddenly contaminated (pick your cause) and the authorities said, “Stay out of that mess,” how wise would you be in doing otherwise? I know, helmet laws suck. But they save lives, too. I’ve witnessed one.
It’s not a good idea to shame your neighbor. Good example hasn’t worked around here. Neither Weld County nor Boulder County is better; each is different. After this stinking pandemic has passed (assuming those who protest will accept vaccination), I’ll ask those from both counties to pick a site for a huge bonfire on a calm day. We can burn masks for hours. But I’ll keep one for the next bug.
Gregory Iwan worked as a natural resources land agent and was educated as an urban and regional planner at the postgraduate level. He also practiced as a commercial real estate appraiser. He is retired in Longmont.
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Gregory Iwan: The virus doesn’t care; we still should - Longmont Times-Call
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