By Drew Thompson ‘25

The Covid-19 pandemic in the United States has been a tale of two Americas. One is desperate for guidance from government and authority figures and pushes for mask and vaccine mandates. The other desires to be left alone, with the discretion to live their own lives and make important health decisions for themselves. One America sees the Covid pandemic as a crisis without a clear endpoint and views avoiding the disease as a moral obligation of the utmost importance. To the other America, the virus has become a sidenote, and public health policy should never have come to govern nearly every facet of society.

For anyone living outside the isolating information bubble created by choice newsfeeds and social media algorithms, our division, although upsetting, is hardly surprising and clearly predates the pandemic. However, even considering those wider trends, one would think a mutually faced threat would serve as a catalyst for renewed national unity. Instead, we have witnessed a near complete breakdown in trust between factions and in the institutions that are supposed to unite them—the pandemic has caused only further polarization.

Given the vastly different worlds in which Americans seem to live, that the pandemic accelerated the growth of discord perhaps should have been expected. In part, this is true. But the manner in which differing public health preferences have sown division can be most strongly linked to our leaders’ inability to earn our trust.

My article is not another polemic against a former president—the crisis I describe is far more extensive than Mr. Trump. Good leaders galvanize broad support for decisions even in the face of initial disagreement because people respect them and trust their judgement. Good leaders convince people to set aside their squabbles and act in unison.

Unfortunately, the dearth of leadership in our federal government is so great that I know of no prominent official who deserves the title “leader”; these people must be designated as “authority figures” instead. Sadly, the crisis persists down the ladder, enveloping state and local governments alike. Our lack of true leaders even pervades economic and cultural institutions, whether corporations or universities.

Authority figures across our country are failing to lead because they are antagonistic and fail in their fundamental duty of cultivating healthy rapport with the people they serve. Put differently, they fail to build trust.

Anyone who is unaccountable, unknowable, and unrelatable is difficult to trust. These three constraints grow in proportion to the number of people under the charge of a given leader. You trust someone who is visible. You trust someone to whom you can talk. You trust someone you know is devoted to you and your well-being—not someone who attacks you or your friends. You trust someone whom you can respect.

Anthony Fauci provides a case in point. For all I am concerned, he is a virtual avatar—he does not exist for me. I’ve never seen him in the flesh. I will probably never have a conversation with him. He and his entire class are hypocritical. Why should I trust him? Why should I listen to him? And being an “expert” is not enough—experts are not infallible, as Fauci’s original guidance against wearing masks demonstrates. Issues of confidence deal with far more than mere credentials.

Fortunately, I was blessed to attend a high school that exhibited successful leadership from the very onset of the pandemic. The administration did this by making a conscious effort to be accountable, knowable, and relatable, making me feel that they truly wanted the best for me and the community at large. I knew they understood their obligation to me as the leaders of the school.

Prior to March 2020, every day began by exchanging “good mornings” with the high school director, dean of students, academic deans, college counselors, and/or the wonderfully kind administrative assistant. Through these small interactions, I built relationships and came to respect—and trust—every one of them. I liked them, and they liked me.

Enter the pandemic. Rather than using the pandemic as an excuse to let their services wither away, the leadership of my high school took robust action to continue operations under new constraints. I am one of the few students able to say his virtual education was worthwhile. Their effectiveness and refusal to let their students down reinforced my trust.

Along the way, the leadership remained accessible and visible. Our headmaster frequently communicated via email and video message, and the high school held virtual assemblies during which we were addressed by the deans and director. They expressed compassion for the difficulties we were all experiencing as young men and women abruptly cut off from meaningful contact with our friends and community. I felt very much that they were there in the thick of it with me—and indeed they were.

Come fall 2020, we returned to in-person learning. I hated masking, social distancing, and the other measures imposed. However, I trusted that, even though I disagreed with many of their policies, my school’s leadership made the decisions they truly deemed necessary to preserve the integrity and health of our community. Sheerly due to my respect for and trust in the leaders and teachers at my high school did I voluntarily wear a mask, socially distance, etc. To flagrantly disobey some of the first people with whom I interacted each day felt unconscionable.

Contrast the situation at my high school to the national leadership fiasco—or even to the dynamic here at W&L. Has anyone been able to interact with a member of the COVID-19 Committee in their capacity as a university policy maker? Do most students even know the identities of those who are making decisions with a significant impact on their daily lives? Of course, a quick Internet search would produce their names, but that is beside the point. Every email they send should include each of their signatures under the policies they announce. Instead, their messages have no human touch, not even a mild note of compassionate understanding. A simple video message from the committee leadership would do much to foster trust in the decisions they make. Nor do leaders and administrators on campus seem particularly inclined to respond to student concerns about policies. Personally, I received no response to an email requesting a specific rationale behind the decision earlier this year to cancel in-person rush. All human contact is cut out. What sort of leadership is this?

Our country has been through a lot over the past two years. As the pandemic winds down—and it is indeed dissipating—we are provided with a rare chance to re-evaluate the nature of our political, economic, and cultural institutions. Some are beginning to do so. The CDC, for instance, is re-examining its response to the pandemic, especially regarding data collection and unclear messaging. Still, after near universal poor performance during the pandemic, it is hard to be confident that any agency can successfully correct itself. The American people must do that for them, holding them accountable for their clear failure to lead and earn our trust.