When COVID-19 began to spread around the world, municipalities did all they could to stop the spread of the deadly virus, shutting down businesses, cancelling events, and telling everyone to stay home except for necessities. The 2020 lockdowns were an isolating and scary time for many, especially as the death toll rose, supply chains ruptured and hospitals were besieged with the sick and dying.
Nearly five years later, the world has seemingly figured out how to live with COVID. Schools and businesses are open. Public spaces no longer have mask mandates. Vaccines are widely available — at least for some in the United States, and an anti-viral medication called Paxlovid exists to treat severe cases and those with a higher risk of developing a severe infection. While much of our public infrastructure has moved on, the way humans approach and react to illness has changed.
Dr. Amesh Adalja, an infectious disease and senior scholar at Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security, told Salon he’s noticed a change in how people view and approach viruses in two ways: some people now minimize the concern, and some people are hyper-aware of the threats.
“There was a surge in respiratory viruses in children, with RSV and influenza, as well as bacterial infections like Group A strep, and you had some people thinking of this as the end of the world,” Adalja said. “And then you have people who, anytime there's a disease alert, whether it's about mpox or eastern equine encephalitis (EEE), they think ‘this is the media blowing this out of proportion.’”
Infectious disease, he said, has increasingly become something “viewed through a political, tribal lens” since the COVID pandemic began, rather than something that people view and approach objectively, like other public health problems.
And Adalja isn't alone in his observation. According to a 2023 study in Scientific Reports, a survey of over 1,000 people in Cyprus found that perceived fear of future pandemics is prevalent — a fear that was especially higher among women and individuals vaccinated against COVID. The study was the first to try and quantify how the pandemic has had far-reaching effects beyond infection numbers and deaths. Other studies have found that medical mistrust is significantly associated with vaccination status and that mistakes made during the pandemic have contributed to an increased distrust of scientists.
Dr. Rajendram Rajnarayanan, of the New York Institute of Technology campus in Jonesboro, Arkansas, told Salon it’s important to remember that COVID isn’t a disease of the past. While hospitalizations and deaths are lower than two years ago, viral activity is especially high this summer. Deaths and hospitalizations from the SARS-CoV-2 are still occurring, not to mention the high number of people who experience long-term symptoms and disability from infection, a condition known as long COVID.
From Rajnarayanan's point of view, society is really at a crossroads of “heightened health anxiety” and “mistrust in public health information,” coupled with “pandemic fatigue” all of which is leading to polarized reactions in how the public reacts to viruses.
Over the last few years, the country has seen a rise of anti-vaccine groups. A 2021 survey study of 1,000 Americans in the journal Politics, Groups, and Identities found that 22 percent of Americans actively identify themselves as anti-vaccination, with 14 percent saying they are "sometimes" part of the movement and 8 percent saying this is "always" the case. Self-described anti-vaxxers said they "embrace" the label of anti-vaxxer "as a form of social identity.”
But Rajnarayanan said this isn’t a time for people to be divided on their differing views, but instead engage in productive conversations.
“We need to protect everyone, and with that mentality, we need to engage in dialogues,” he said. “We need to talk to each other about what's needed.”
Rajnarayanan added how mistrust in vaccines have led to the return of diseases like measles.
Steve Sacona, who is 41 years old and based in Brisbane City, Queensland, told Salon via email that the pandemic “flipped” his perspective on illness.
“What used to be minor annoyances, like colds and flu, now feel like a bigger deal,” he said. “I've embraced a few straightforward yet effective habits, like disinfecting surfaces and maintaining distance in crowded areas.”
He added that when new viruses make headlines, he’s “all ears.” He realized from the COVID pandemic how quickly a situation can “spiral out of control.”
“When I heard about the recent respiratory viruses, I reviewed health guidelines and ensured I was prepared,” he said. “I'm not panicking, but I'm definitely more conscious of emerging health threats and try to stay informed without getting swept up in the hype.”
Amanda Schmitt, who has two children, said her approach to illness has changed since 2020, too. Before the pandemic, if her kids had a runny nose or cough, she wouldn’t “think twice” about taking them out in public.
“Now, even the smallest symptom prompts me to keep them home to avoid infecting others,” Schmitt said via email. “We've also started frequently washing hands, disinfecting surfaces and avoiding crowded indoor places.”
News about other viruses, like mpox or bird flu, evoke more worry in her after the coronavirus pandemic.
“Whereas before I may have brushed them off as minor health threats unlikely to impact my family," Schmitt said. "Now I see how quickly viruses can spread and evolve into pandemics."
Adalja emphasized that the pandemic was a “traumatic experience” for everyone, and it’s understandable that it pushed some people to be hyper-aware of illness.
“There was lots of death and destruction, and that can cause people to kind of rethink their whole risk calculation when it comes to infectious disease threats,” Adalja said. “But it's important to remember that infectious diseases occurred before COVID, and they occurred after COVID, and just because you're hearing a lot more about them because of the media, that just doesn't mean that anything has changed.”
Humans might be risk tolerant, or less so, post-pandemic and that is true for any activity that humans take part in, he said.
“Some people might ride a motorcycle and some people might not,” Adalja said. “People have different risk tolerances, and I think you've got to figure out what fits in your life, recognizing that you can't take the risk to zero and that there are lots of tools to make that risk management.”
