It's the Rules

It's the rules

It's the rules

Guaranteed or not

It's the rules

-The Tragically Hip, “The Rules”

There are a number of stereotypes people believe about Canadians. We like hockey. We all say “eh” and pronounce “about” “aboot.” We’re kinder and more peaceful than Americans.

Add to that one more I’ve come to believe recently: We’re mindlessly conformist and obedient.

Say what? Aren’t we a rugged and independent frontier folk?

No, that was our predecessors a hundred years ago. Those were the people who stormed Vimy Ridge. We’re an urban, pampered, numbed people, raised on the idea that government knows best and one ought not to make a fuss.

That attitude did not begin with the emergence of COVID-19. But the pandemic has certainly piled on a lot of new rules. And, with only a few exceptions, we all seem awfully eager to comply with them, regardless of whether or not they make any damned sense at all.

To be fair, some of these rules do make sense. Sanitize your hands. Wear masks indoors. Don’t travel far and wide until we’ve got this under control. Quarantine if you’re sick.

Some people object to these rules, but I tend to file them in the tinfoil hat brigade. It’s some of the other rules that have emerged that I’m talking about here.

Rules like draconian restrictions on outdoor activity. Taped-off playgrounds and barricaded sports fields were a common site early in the pandemic. To a certain extent, that’s forgivable…in the early days of the pandemic, when we didn’t know much. But in some areas, these measures have lasted far longer than they should’ve, especially when research has shown minimal risk of outdoor transmission. We’ve all seen the videos of cops tackling kids playing outside. Is this necessary?

One thing a lot of these silly rules have in common is a lack of consistency. I saw a spot-on meme a little while back, contrasting an airport check-in lineup, with two-metre social distancing, with the airplane cabin, in which the same people are jammed like oily fish.

Where’s the science here? Oh yes, asking airlines to fly fewer people affects bottom lines. But asking people to stand two metres apart costs nothing. Got it.

Another thing these rules have in common is the quality of ritual. Ritual soothes and protects the psyche, if not the body. The mania for mask-wearing, for example, seems quite comforting to some; to the extent that is now not uncommon to see people, alone in their cars with the windows up, wearing their talisman masks.

Are they afraid they’ll infect themselves?

Three examples from my recent experience should underline how the mania for rules is spreading from COVID suppression to other aspects of our lives:

The day after I was discharged from an eleven-day stay in hospital with COVID-19, part of which was spent in Intensive Care, I received a call from Fraser Health, the local public health authority. I had been advised by my doctor that, as I was infected three weeks before, I was now well outside the window where I might infect anyone else. I was free to move around as I pleased.

Not according to Fraser Health. No, I was asked questions about where I sat in the car when I was picked up, who was there, where I went. Eventually I pointed out that my doctor, a respiratory therapist who seemed to be something of a COVID expert, had told me that this was all irrelevant.

“Oh well, you should listen to your doctor.”

“Great. Anything else?”

“Well, you’re supposed to isolate until tomorrow.”

“That’s not what my doctor said. By the way, it might’ve been helpful to know that yesterday.”

I decided to “trust the science.” That is, listen to my doctor.

I was out for lunch with a friend the other day. A couple was in line to see the hostess ahead of us. “Hi, we’d like to make a reservation for dinner.”

“I’m sorry,” The hostess said, “We only take reservations on opentable.com. Or, you can call us. You can’t make reservations in person.”

I wondered then what would happen if the man took out his phone and called the hostess. I’m guessing he’d have gotten a table. I turned to my friend and whispered, “Do you sometimes feel like you’re living in a Monty Python sketch?”

On a trip to the grocery store with my daughters, I used the self-checkout line. Among my purchases was a bottle of wine. I scanned the wine; at which time a staff member came by to verify my age.

“Now sir,” She warned me, “It’s very important that the kids don’t touch the machine now. Once we’ve scanned the bottle, it would be like they’re purchasing the wine. And they’re not nineteen.”

“Er…okay.”

“Sorry to tell you what to do. But…it’s the rules.”

It’s the rules. How many times have we all heard that lately? I suspect, with a “Great Reset” headed our way, the end of COVID won’t mean the end of silly little rules.

Stow your skepticism. This is only the beginning.