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    [post_date] => 2023-04-19 00:32:53
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The first question we ask about complex chronic illnesses shouldn't be whether or not they're real.

Over the last few months, the question of whether long Covid is real has been the subject of lengthy examinations from publications across the political spectrum. These articles are often ambiguous in their conclusions, giving equal weight to the legitimacy of the condition while simultaneously attempting to debunk it.

As anyone who has it will tell you, long Covid is very real, but if you’ve been reading these articles purporting to explore LC’s reality or unreality—questioning if society has it “wrong”—you might think that it is not, or that the people who have it (and illnesses like it) do not have a physical ailment at all, but instead a mental health one. While it’s not surprising that more right-leaning publications have engaged in long Covid denialism, the trend of left-leaning legacy publications like New York Magazine and the New Republic doing something similar is, to me, cause for concern. As a disabled, nonbinary feminist who has dedicated a large chunk of their career to exploring the tangled issues of gender, chronic pain/illness, and the society-wide disbelief of these illnesses, I think the insistence on showing “bo­­th sides” of long Covid is a slippery slope.

“Skepticism” of complex chronic illnesses is nothing new. I and many other chronically ill people have seen “skepticism” of our disabilities play out in media, amongst the general public, and in the medical field plenty of times before. Diseases such as multiple sclerosis (MS), rheumatoid arthritis, and ulcers were all thought to be psychosomatic at one time. In more modern times, chronic fatigue syndrome/myalgic encephalomyelitis (CFS/ME), fibromyalgia, Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), and many other chronic illnesses and pain conditions have been explained away as mysterious, and therefore Maybe Not Real, too.

Yet time and time again, it’s been shown that they are. After a CFS/ME outbreak occurred in Incline Village, Nevada in the mid-1980s, proving that the illness was seriously impacting patients, the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) pledged $12.9 million to research the condition, only to then quietly move the money they had earmarked to other departments. Meanwhile, CFS/ME remains just as pervasive today: Many long Covid patients have ended up with CFS/ME after battling acute Covid, in addition to experiencing a host of other debilitating, multi-systemic symptoms. 

As a person who has had lifelong health problems of varying severity, when I first heard about CFS/ME as a high school student, my immediate thought was that it sounded awful. Being tired all of the time and having to deal with muscle pain, cognitive issues, poor sleep, and post-exertional malaise (symptoms getting worse after a patient exerts themselves) sounded like a version of Hell on Earth. It’s not that I didn’t think becoming chronically ill could happen to me—because if I’ve learned one thing as a person with multiple health problems, it’s that your health is not under your complete control, no matter how much willpower you think you have. Rather, even then, I understood that extending a crumb of empathy to people whose health conditions seem weird or mysterious or exaggerated to you is not fucking rocket science.

Just a few years later, however, I would learn not everyone feels the same. When I was a 19 year-old college student, I began experiencing extreme fatigue and muscle pain in my back, neck, legs, and shoulders for no apparent reason one day. It never went away, and I spent over a year trying to figure out what was happening to me. Shortly after my 21st birthday in 2007, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia by a rheumatologist. It would be another year before fibromyalgia had its media tipping point, but I became familiar with the stereotypes very quickly, mostly via internet comments and a few real-life unsolicited opinions. The people who get it (mostly women, as the gender ratio is very skewed), according to commentors online, tend to be middle-aged or older. They are fat and eat the wrong foods. They’re lazy. They just want prescription drugs. They are mentally ill. They aren’t utilizing positive thinking effectively enough to get better. They just need to exercise more. They are brainwashed by Big Pharma TV ads into thinking they are sick—this one courtesy of popular women’s website Jezebel.

Several of these stereotypes have been projected onto people of all genders with various disabilities, but there’s something about “mysterious” diseases with no single cause that tends to push ableism and sexism to the front—again, most likely because they disproportionately affect women. Unsurprisingly and likely because of this, fibromyalgia tends to be subjected to the “hysteria” argument, too: Per an (in)famous New York Times article titled “Drug approved. Is disease real?” about the fibromyalgia medication Lyrica, “The more these patients are around the medical establishment, the sicker they get.” I am left wondering how soon an “expert” will make a similar argument about long Covid.

Such both-sides claptrap when it comes to illnesses that medical science hasn’t “solved” yet is a thing that some media outlets like to do in the interest of “balance,” and it has been going on for a long time—longer than I have been alive, in some cases. But giving equal weight to opposing perspectives that are not, in fact, equal does not make sense. What, exactly, is the rationale for treating debilitating chronic illnesses, new and old, and those conditions’ reality for millions of people as a neat little thought experiment?

Because I’ve been writing about these issues—and living with them as a chronically ill person—for a long time, I suspect that the answer is multi-faceted. A lack of empathy is one facet; it does not escape my notice that most high-profile articles questioning the “realness” of complex, multi-system chronic illnesses are written by journalists who do not have these health conditions themselves. It also does not escape my notice that it has almost exclusively been chronically ill people, ME/CFS patients, and the journalists, writers, and medical professionals who work with ME/CFS and long Covid patients to call out NYMag, the New Republic, and other publications on bad journalism related to long Covid so far.

But another facet is the broader, ableist pattern of doubting chronically ill people in general, especially those debilitated by contested illnesses. It’s easier to not see ableism, or take it seriously as a mode of oppression, if you don’t deal with it every day. Much like it’s easier to say Well, if I had long Covid, I would just think more positively or If I had CFS/ME, I would at least TRY graded exercise therapy (GET) and cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) to get better (even though both have been debunked) when you’re not actually going through it. Medical and everyday sexism, too, is another ingredient in this crappy metaphorical pie—doubting and dismissing women and other people who are not cis men who say that yes, they are in debilitating pain, that their fatigue crushes them 24/7, that they really are sick, has been a huge part of how chronic illness has been talked about in the U.S. for decades. Would you be surprised to learn that, like many of these illnesses, long Covid also has a gender discrepancy? Maybe I’m just cynical, but I was not.

Believing people of all genders when it comes to their experiences—of their own bodies—should be an obvious starting point when it comes to long Covid and other post-viral or “mysterious” chronic illnesses. Just because medical science hasn’t discovered the answers to long Covid, CFS/ME, fibromyalgia, and other chronic illnesses so far does not mean that there are not answers—nor does it definitively mean that these illnesses are psychosomatic. As we’ve seen, disbelieving people about their experiences of their own bodies is deeply entrenched in American culture—especially if those bodies are outside of the norm of cisgender, non-disabled, white, thin, young, and male. The long Covid coverage that’s been highly publicized in this current moment is only continuing this callous tradition of doubting, dismissing, and socially gaslighting chronically ill people as they are—yet again—shoved to the margins. It is time for the media, the government, other institutions, and the non-disabled public to do better.

[post_title] => Long Covid Skepticism is a Slippery Slope [post_excerpt] => The first question we ask about complex chronic illnesses shouldn't be whether or not they're real. [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => closed [ping_status] => closed [post_password] => [post_name] => long-covid-cfsme-fibromyalgia-skepticism-chronic-illness-media-both-sides [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2026-08-04 19:20:59 [post_modified_gmt] => 2026-08-04 19:20:59 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => https://conversationalist.org/?p=5810 [menu_order] => 85 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw )
An illustration of a larger figure contorted and in motion, bending over and arms spread, legs buckling. The person is featureless in the face, smooth and curved. Two smaller figures are grabbing and pulling at the larger figure, one grabbing at its wrist, and the other at its calf. We can just barely perceive an orb of light rising from behind the shoulders of the larger figure. The entire illustration is bathed in dark purple.

Long Covid Skepticism is a Slippery Slope

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    [post_date] => 2022-02-17 19:58:26
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    [post_content] => 

After two years of living under stringent pandemic protocols, Canadians are fed up. They might not agree with the freedom convoy's politics, but they understand their feeling of resentment.

“You’re taking the swastika out of context!”

I sat there wondering if someone had dosed my coffee with LSD. 

“Excuse me?”

I could feel her seething on the other end of the telephone as she prepared to walk me through the ins and outs of Nazi iconography etiquette. Annette is a patient woman. She runs a private daycare in the suburbs north of Montreal — the kind of place that teaches toddlers to use sign language so they can tell their parents when they’re thirsty or need a fresh diaper.

But the swastika thing is testing her limits. 

Two weeks ago, when a group calling itself the “Freedom Convoy” flooded downtown Ottawa with tractor trailers and an estimated 8,000 protesters, people were seen flying a Canadian flag with swastikas etched into it. There were a few, actually.

When I mentioned this to Annette, asking her why a protest about ending vaccine mandates and COVID-19 restrictions seemed like such an inviting place for extremists, she took a deep breath. Annette, who supports the convoy, told me the symbol of the Third Reich on Parliament Hill wasn’t meant to be taken literally.

“It’s not a Nazi swastika, well it is but it’s not a pro-Nazi swastika. Okay, that sounds bad. It’s a comment on how Canada has become a fascist state with all these COVID restrictions.”

“So it’s an ironic swastika?” I replied.

“Yes,” she said, sounding relieved.

“But what about the actual Nazi flag?”

I swear I heard Annette’s palm hit her forehead. We agreed to change subjects.

The problem with Canada’s Freedom Convoy isn’t people like Annette. Well, it is and it isn’t.

Annette is triple vaccinated. She respects all of the COVID protocols and even voted for Justin Trudeau’s Liberal government three times. But after two years of living with the ebbs and flows of a virus and restrictions that can feel improvised at the best of times, Annette is fed up. Which is understandable. 

In Quebec—which has the most stringent COVID protocols of any province—an estimated two million people have contracted the Omicron variant since it arrived last fall. That’s roughly a quarter of my home province’s population. Of course, this is just an estimate since the latest wave wiped out Quebec’s testing capacity.

Annette’s frustration is perfectly normal. Where things get more complicated is that while the Freedom Convoy is supported by a small but sizeable minority of Canadians from all walks of life, it’s being led by a coalition with ties to American extremists like the Three Percenters militia, QAnon and even one former Trump staffer who’s helping with strategy on the frontlines.

But there are distinctly Canadian elements to the convoy as well. Alberta’s ultra-conservative “WEXIT” secessionists and Quebec’s Europe-inspired far right are both flying their colours on Parliament Hill. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention sightings of a few Proud Boys at the rally two weeks ago. Founded by Canadian Gavin McInnes, the Proud Boys were recently designated a terrorist group by Trudeau’s government because of their penchant for insurrection and political violence.

The convoy’s logistics and messaging is handled by a group called Canada Unity, which is a mishmash of classic Canadian grievances — the Liberal government has never had a strong presence in Conservative strongholds like the prairies and rural Ontario, which only fuels a sense of mutual resentment — the French populist gilets jaunes (Yellow Vest) movement  and American-style alt-right tactics. 

Far-right activist Pat King is a major figure in the WEXIT campaign, which advocates for Alberta to secede from Canada; many in the oil-producing province resent their tax dollars going to the federal government’s coffers. Western alienation has been a central theme of Canadian politics since Trudeau’s father Pierre Elliot Trudeau was prime minister in the 1970s.

What’s different from past western protest movements is that Albertans are finding common ground with Quebec conservatives. Traditionally, these two groups aren’t even on speaking terms—partly because they speak different languages, but also because each sees the other as taking up too much space in the national conversation. But they appear to be finding common ground over their shared resentment of Trudeau and his multiculturalist view of Canada.

King also organized attacks on anti-racist demonstrators last year in northern Alberta, referring to his roughneck crew as “Patriots” — which certainly rings a bell to American ears. He says Muslim immigration will lead to the “depopulation of the caucasian race” which is a common theme for both the American and European far right. James Bauder, a leader of the far-right movement Canada Unity (in which King is also active), authored a “Memorandum of Understanding” that would force Canada’s unelected head of state, Governor General Mary Simon, and its unelected senate to negotiate with protesters and ultimately force Canada’s elected government to “resign their lawful positions” if they don’t meet the convoy’s demands.

A constitutional lawyer friend who looked through the document called it “somewhere between political witchcraft and January 6 fan fiction.”

Here, too, Canadians feel the influence of their southern neighbours, where far right activists and conspiracy theorists justified their attempt to overturn the presidential election on January 6, 2021 with an archaic and inconsistent reading of the U.S. Constitution.

And then there’s the question of who’s funding this thing. Political parties in Canada don’t raise money at nearly the rate of their American counterparts. Elections are almost entirely funded by the state and overseen by a robust arms-length entity, Elections Canada. For context, the Conservative Party of Canada raised $13 million in the second half of 2020 — more than any other party in the country during that period.

In the U.S. that kind of cash barely finances a down ballot congressional race.

So how is it that Canadians, who are notoriously thrifty when it comes to politics, put together a $10 million war chest for the Freedom Convoy in under two weeks? Most of that money, raised on the American GoFundMe platform, was frozen by the company because there was no way of tracking how it would be spent.

The federal government has since called on GoFundMe executives to testify before Parliament as to the source of this cash.

Determined not be thwarted by financial oversight, the Freedom convoy turned to GiveSendGo — the Christian platform that collected millions in donations for Kyle Rittenhouse — to keep their movement alive. It didn’t take long for millions more in donations to pour into the Convoy’s cause. This isn’t typical of Canadian politics.

QAnon slogans like “Free the Children” and “WWG1WWA” are scattered throughout the Ottawa site, alongside signs calling for Trudeau to be jailed and tried for treason, which bring some real “lock her up” vibes.

Perhaps the most frightening aspect of the Freedom Convoy is the ease with which journalists are harassed, attacked and threatened by supporters. In Alberta—where satellite protests are being staged—a reporter from CTV News tweeted a picture of himself removing the station’s logo from its TV truck to avoid being targeted by mob violence.

“It’s just not safe right now,” CTV reporter Justin Thompson wrote.

In Ontario, supporters of the convoy smashed the windows of a van belonging to Radio Canada, the French-language national broadcaster. The Quebec-based TVA Nouvelles started sending security guards alongside its reporters when covering the convoy’s Ottawa encampment. Meanwhile, the Canadian Association of Journalists reports that members covering the protest have been spat on and shoved, and have received countless death threats since the outset of the movement.

Last week, during a “press conference” organized by the convoy’s leaders, CTV News was barred from the event because organizers wanted to “(teach) the fake news industry what news is.” Again, this must sound familiar to Americans.

I’ve written just one article about the Freedom Convoy and some of its more enthusiastic supporters have threatened to stab, shoot, and hang me.

Adding another degree of American weirdness to the mix, former Trump administration advisor Paul Alexander has been on the frontlines of the protest, helping with strategy and sitting in on meetings with leadership.

For the residents of Canada’s notoriously boring capital city, life has been upended. A friend of mine, who works as an interpreter on Parliament Hill, told me she doesn’t feel safe at night walking past the encampment. But she also says she’s been so angry that she flips them off on her way to work every morning and struggles to suppress the urge to instigate a fight with them.

“I’m just looking for an excuse to throw a punch,” she said.

Here’s something an American audience might not realize. Canadians are perfectly capable of committing political violence independently of any outside influence. Though we may not have the American appetite for revolution, this country’s wealth is derived from stolen Indigenous land and ongoing colonial violence. But I digress.

Which brings me back to Annette.

We grew up in the same small town, where a huge percentage of our parents worked in the machine shops building airplanes for Bombardier, an aeronautics giant based out of Quebec. That changed after 9/11, when Canada’s aeronautics industry collapsed. Thousands of workers were laid off and while unemployment approached historic lows ahead of the pandemic, the years of a steady, well-paid job and access to home ownership feel like something that’s dying with our parents’ generation.

This too mirrors the economic anxiety of our southern neighbours. The Obama presidency may have turned the tide on the 2008 housing market collapse but income inequality persists and average household wealth hasn’t returned to pre-recession numbers.

So a lot of people — like Annette’s machinist husband — are living through an endless cycle of being laid off, hired again and then tossed back to the wilderness when the economy takes a dip. Meanwhile, companies like Bombardier get giant government bailouts even though they fail to meet benchmarks, continue laying off workers and rewarding their inept executives with millions in bonuses.

Add two years of COVID-19 to that and it seems only to have accelerated the frustration in Annette’s household.


“It’s time for this to end, I don’t recognize life in this country anymore,” she said. “We’re told to put our lives on hold and then start again and then put them back on hold. We have a set of rules that are constantly changing. Some of us have been vaccinated three times. What’s the end game here? Why are we being treated like idiots?

“I’m not a violent person, I am against the violence in the Freedom Convoy but I’m also angrier than I’ve ever been.”

U.S. influence among supporters of the Freedom Convoy is obvious but much of the anger fueling these protests has elements of western-Canadian alienation, resentment for a Liberal government that’s been in power 21 of the last 30 years and anxiety over a rapidly changing Canadian economy. Some of the far right elements of the movement have an American feel to them but there’s an anti-immigrant, Islamophobic segment of the protest that mirrors European conservative movements like Brexit, Front National or Éric Zémmour’s ultra nationalist Reconquête party.

The most worrisome aspect of the protest is how rapidly it was embraced by American conservatives with deep pockets, access to weapons and a wealth of knowledge about attacking democratic institutions. 

Perhaps it’s just the LSD in my coffee making me paranoid but that seems like a dangerous combination. After all, we share the world’s longest international border.

[post_title] => The Freedom Convoy's politics are fringe, but the average Canadian's frustration is real [post_excerpt] => Here’s something an American audience might not realize. Canadians are perfectly capable of committing political violence independently of any outside influence. [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => closed [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => the-freedom-convoys-politics-are-fringe-but-the-average-canadians-frustration-is-real [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2026-08-04 20:59:21 [post_modified_gmt] => 2026-08-04 20:59:21 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => https://conversationalist.org/?p=3855 [menu_order] => 138 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw )

The Freedom Convoy’s politics are fringe, but the average Canadian’s frustration is real

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    [post_date] => 2020-04-30 13:59:50
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    [post_content] => How to explain the Christian Right's unshakable loyalty for Donald Trump, a twice-divorced man who has been credibly accused of sexual assault by numerous women? 

White evangelicals have consistently been Donald Trump’s most supportive demographic since his 2016 victory. Even as the president’s overall approval numbers decline after the initial “rally ‘round the flag” effect from the COVID-19 pandemic that he is egregiously (and arguably criminally) mishandling, white evangelicals remain steadfastly by his side. The pandemic has itself become a site of the culture wars that the anti-democratic U.S. Christian Right has been waging relentlessly for four decades as it attempts to hold back the progress of civil rights and equality in America. And Trump, who has demonstrated his willingness to pursue their culture wars agenda, can count on unwavering support from white evangelicals in the upcoming presidential election. Our analytical focus should be on why and how authoritarian evangelicals have managed to gain so much power and what can be done to fight back, as opposed to hand wringing over their willingness to partner with an impious strongman.

Pundits who do not understand right-wing evangelical subculture have over the last few years frequently suggested that certain tipping points might shake evangelicals’ loyalty to Trump. Early on, many naively believed that shaming evangelicals over their hypocrisy in supporting a thrice-married man credibly accused of sexual assault by numerous women would be an effective means of peeling some of them away. More recently, some commentators claimed hopefully that outgoing Christianity Today editor Mark Galli’s December 19, 2019 op-ed, “Trump Should be Removed from Office,” was evidence of significant dissent over support for the president within the evangelical camp.

Trump did initially seem concerned about Galli’s op-ed, tweeting angry responses and launching an “Evangelicals for Trump” initiative. He needn’t have been. His evangelical base remains unwavering in its support for one simple reason: Trump gives authoritarian Christians practically everything they want. He validates their worst culture warring impulses and pursues the Christian Right’s agenda more comprehensively and vigorously than any previous president, including George W. Bush. Not only has Trump been stacking the federal courts and the federal bureaucracy with young far right ideologues; he also moved the United States Embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem to play to evangelicals “end times” beliefs.

Far from revealing that there is significant division among white evangelicals over Trump, the responses to Galli’s op-ed showed that Christianity Today, while certainly a conservative publication, is no longer the evangelical flagship magazine. Instead, the periodical that Billy Graham, “America’s Pastor,” founded in 1956 is now out of step with an increasingly radicalized white evangelical demographic, one in which the racial animosity that has always been a part of this kind of Christianity is now closer to the surface than many of the “genteel” readers of Christianity Today might wish.

Meanwhile, the prominent Southern Baptist leader Rev. R. Albert Mohler Jr., who was once critical of Trump and refused to vote for him in 2016, now says he regrets that decision and will vote for him in 2020. In his statement, Mohler bragged that he thinks Trump may see an even higher share of the white evangelical vote this time around than the 80 percent he got in 2016, and he may well be right. The case for any shift of evangelicals away from Trump thus further crumbles.

To be sure, a small minority of white evangelicals remains critical of Trump, but only 16 percent of the white evangelical vote went to Hillary Clinton in 2016, and the current polling data does not show  Joe Biden gaining a greater share. The realities of American polarization have become so stark that the coveted swing voter is now essentially a thing of the past, at least according to the analysis of political scientist Rachel Bitecofer, which I find convincing. National elections thus become a contest of turning out the base, and white evangelicals vote disproportionately to their numbers. Although they are down to 16 percent of the U.S. population, they still made up 25 percent of the electorate in the 2018 midterms.

And Trump continues to deliver for them. Most recently, he pulled money from the World Health Organization, the kind of international institution right-wing authoritarians despise for their “elitism” and “globalism,” and redistributed some of it to the evangelical missionary organization Samaritan’s Purse, which has somehow been allowed to set up a 68-bed field hospital in New York City’s Central Park despite legitimate concerns about its ability to provide an equal standard of care to all patients.

Samaritan’s Purse is headed by rabid homophobe and Islamophobe Franklin Graham—Billy Graham’s son; the organization requires staff to sign a statement of faith that reads in part, “we believe that marriage is exclusively the union of one genetic male and one genetic female.” In addition to Samaritan’s Purse, Graham also heads the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, which is deliberately seeking to capitalize on people’s fears of the novel coronavirus in order to drum up conversions. Graham has, naturally, been one of Trump’s most outspoken prominent evangelical supporters since 2016.

But it’s not all bad news for those of us who support democracy and human rights. Trump’s supporters do have some reasons to worry about the president’s reelection prospects. The economy has historically played a decisive role in American presidential elections, and the staggering unemployment numbers caused by quarantine during the pandemic would normally sink any incumbent’s prospects. This may be one key motivation of the recent protests calling for an end to quarantine restrictions on economic activity. (By the way, the phrase “reopen the economy” is a partisan right-wing talking point, and journalists should avoid using it as a supposedly neutral descriptor for these actions.)

As some states such as Georgia move to ease quarantine restrictions and allow certain businesses to reopen, Trump continues to talk out of both sides of his mouth—for example, rebuking Georgia’s governor for planning to ease restrictions too early after tweeting a demand to “LIBERATE” other states where anti-quarantine protests had taken place. Meanwhile the anti-lockdown protestors direct their anger at Dr. Anthony Fauci rather than at Trump.

While it would be wrong to dismiss these protests as mere “astroturf” campaigns, they do have backing and funding from a wealthy and well-connected right-wing network that includes billionaire Robert Mercer and Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos. But if those of us who value democracy and equality choose to ignore the protests, labeling them as top-down initiatives with no deep grassroots support, we risk missing their potential political impact. A number of commentators made the same mistake with the appearance of the Tea Party, which was backed by many of the same members of the donor class. Another mistake was to view the Tea Party as distinct from the Christian Right, which it is not. We must avoid repeating that mistake.

Indeed, the cab of a semi used in the protest in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania on April 20, was emblazoned with the phrase “Jesus is my vaccine,” rhetoric similar to that used by pastors who defiantly continue to hold in-person church services despite shutdown orders meant to contain the pandemic. Although there is no legal precedent for the exemption of churches from quarantine, a number of right-wing organizations have now taken up the cause under the rallying cry of “religious freedom” that they have effectively employed in recent years to impose a theocratic agenda with respect to matters such as abortion, birth control, and same-sex marriage. Meanwhile, new conspiracy theories are being spread via social media, including the apocalyptic assertion that the coronavirus vaccine will be the “Mark of the Beast” associated with the “end times,” literally damning those who receive it.

Such beliefs are harmful to both democracy and public health, and, while it remains to be seen what impact they might have on the 2020 election, it is worth remembering that in 2013 a full 20 percent of Republicans believed with certainty that Barack Obama was the Antichrist. The Electoral College, as well as America’s problems with gerrymandering and voter suppression, favor the Right, but at the same time, the spectacle of Christians behaving badly in the face of the coronavirus pandemic will most likely have a negative impact on evangelicals’ reputation, and, by extension, Trump’s.

In any case, with the Christian Right and the GOP desperate to cling to their disproportionate power, we can expect a bumpy ride to November. Democrats will need to make every effort to turn out their base in order to defeat the GOP.
    [post_title] => “Jesus is my vaccine”: Culture wars, coronavirus, and the 2020 election
    [post_excerpt] => The Trump supporters who protested the pandemic lockdown have support from billionaires like Robert Mercer and Betsy DeVos. But if we label them as top-down initiatives with no deep grassroots support, we risk missing their potential political impact.
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“Jesus is my vaccine”: Culture wars, coronavirus, and the 2020 election

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    [post_date] => 2020-04-24 02:31:36
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    [post_content] => Working from home under lockdown has highlighted some unanticipated gender and class issues.

I have a vivid memory of a 1990s television commercial for a then-state-of-the-art cordless phone. It portrayed an industrious young businesswoman working her way through the weekend from home. Her three young daughters appear and beg her to drive them to the beach. The woman is torn; she loves her kids, but she’s also a dedicated Career Woman, and, weekend or no, she has work to do.

The last shot of the ad shows the woman taking her daughters to the beach—and joining a conference call from her new cordless phone as they frolic in the waves. Technology, the ad suggested, would set a new generation of women free by allowing them to work from anywhere: with the right phone, you could spend time with your kids without sacrificing that promotion!



Fast forward to 2020 and a world reeling from a global pandemic. The ad now seems both dated and antithetical to modern concepts of gender roles and work-life balance (why can’t the children’s other parent take them to the beach? why is the person struggling to balance work and family always a woman? why should anyone have to join a conference call on a Saturday?). Now facing a grim choice between economic pain and physical risk are the huge number of people whose jobs cannot be performed from home—grocery store clerks, warehouse workers, transit workers, and health care providers, to name a few—as well as those whose employers are refusing to let them work from home, even in cases where their jobs can be done remotely.

Those who can work from home are the lucky minority. According to a survey conducted by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, 29 percent of wage and salary workers had the option of working from home in 2017-18, and 25 percent did so at least some of the time. Most of them are high-earning white collar workers. Of civilian workers, a category comprised of both private industry and state and local government workers, only 7 percent have access to “flexible” work, or telework.

The COVID-19 crisis has transformed a white-collar job perk into a necessary means of protecting the health of workers, businesses, and the overall economy. This is why, in the span of a few weeks, so many companies have gone from resisting to mandating it.

Organizations seeking to advance women in the workplace have been pushing for companies to allow flexible and/or at-home work since the 1970s. Women would benefit the most from these arrangements, the theory went, because they were expected to perform a greater share of domestic labor. Why should an ambitious, hardworking woman be held back in her career simply because she had to pick up the kids at 3pm or get dinner on the table by 7?

Today, women still do more child care and housework than men, but many fathers are playing a greater role in their children’s lives than did men of previous generations. Male and female, single and married, parents and child-free, many workers value the flexibility and freedom of working from home at least some of the time—being able to let in the plumber, sign for a package, go to the gym, walk the dog, or prepare a home-cooked meal reduces stress across the board.

Before the pandemic—and even now, in the midst of it—many organizations were and are reluctant to allow staff to work from home. Although more companies have been allowing at-home work in the last 20 years, the last decade saw a small backlash, led most notably by Marissa Mayer, who banned remote work when she took over Yahoo in 2013. Some employers worried that workers didn’t have the training or equipment necessary to work productively from home, or that being at home would be too distracting. Some managers feared a loss of control and didn’t trust employees to get work done. Mayer, Steve Jobs, and others believed that collaboration, connectedness, and innovation suffer when employees aren’t interacting with each other in person.

Now that working from home has, in some cases, gone from a reward reserved for upper management to a requirement of the job, more people are discovering its downsides. As a young entrepreneur named Adam Simmons told CBC News in 2019, "I think [working at home] is really damaging for your mental health…It definitely was for mine. I felt very, very lonely.”

When Simmons worked from home, he was alone. But due to pandemic-induced school and day care closures, many of today’s office workers are trying to meet the demands of full-time jobs while caring for children. An acquaintance recently described a meltdown her toddler son had while she was working from home. “He asked for a snack WHILE eating a snack,” she wrote in a Facebook post. “I said, ‘You’re already eating an apple,’ and he threw himself on the ground, moaning, ‘No, I need a snaaaaaaack!’” Never has the professor whose children famously interrupted a live BBC News interview in 2017 been more relatable.

Newer technologies like instant chat and video conferencing have made it easier than ever to work from home, if not necessarily more pleasant. Jeremy Bailenson, a professor of communication at Stanford and founding director of the university’s Virtual Human Interaction Lab, wrote about why so many people find Zoom meetings more exhausting than in-person ones in a recent Wall Street Journal op-ed.

Bailenson’s research suggests that employees now attending hours of Zoom meetings per week are experiencing “nonverbal overload.” The grid format of ten-person Zoom meetings, in which each participant stares at you from the screen for the entire time in an eerie echo of “The Brady Bunch,” can be “draining,” he wrote. In real-life meetings, we can “control our personal space,” whereas “for every minute we are in Zoom, we have staring faces inches from our own.”

Employers resist allowing people to work from home in part because they fear a dip in productivity. But research and workers’ experiences during the pandemic indicate that allowing (or requiring) work from home is in fact a boon to management. As Bailenson wrote in The Wall Street Journal, “people are forced to pay attention” on Zoom to a greater degree than in person. Even Kevin Roose, author of a recent New York Times op-ed entitled, “Sorry, but Working From Home is Overrated,” acknowledged that studies show remote workers are more efficient and productive and “tend to take shorter breaks and fewer sick days” than their on-site peers.

Advocates have emphasized for years that allowing employees to work from home at least some of the time can save companies money—e.g., by reducing office size or eliminating the need to rent one and slashing the cost of utilities, janitorial services, supplies, equipment, and furniture. According to a 2014 NBC News story, a typical business would save, on average, $11,000 per year by allowing employees to work from home just half of the time.

As Roose pointed out, having trouble separating work life from home life is a downside for workers, but not for bosses looking to “squeeze extra efficiency out of [their] employees.” Indeed, employees who now have to work from home because of the pandemic are encountering what one described in a recent career advice column as, “expectations that because we’re at home all the time anyway, we should be online and available at almost all times” and “being asked to do extra work during the evenings…because everyone knows we’re all here anyway.”

Without “the normal excuse of having plans,” the advice seeker wrote, “I'm finding it hard to say no.” Overwhelmed and/or abusive managers are already taking advantage of this situation; more than one person has noticed that they are working more hours now than they were before the pandemic, often because they’re replacing their daily commute with another hour or three of work.

Extra hours aside, working from home is not for everyone. Some—extroverts, parents of young children, people who value a clear separation between work and home—will be delighted to return to their offices as soon as it is safe to do so. Others, having discovered that they can work just as well (or better) from home, will not easily give up their newfound freedom.

For many companies, allowing people to work remotely at least some of the time makes sense for employers and employees alike, with or without a global pandemic. And it will be difficult for management to continue insisting it’s not feasible when workers have been doing it for months. Forcing adults to spend eight or more hours a day on-site is as outdated and ludicrous as running an ad that equates weekend work with women’s liberation.
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What the pandemic is teaching us about working from home