With COVID, the real damage wasn’t just physical or economic. It was spiritual. COVID didn’t just expose cracks in our healthcare system—it revealed a deeper rot in the American psyche: our willingness to trade liberty for a false sense of control and to shame anyone who dared to question the deal.
I was working a factory job in Grand Rapids when the first murmurs of a mysterious virus out of China started floating through YouTube videos and fringe news reports mostly sourced from X. They called it “The Boomer Remover” or “The Wuhan Flu”—dark humor used to cut through the rising tension. No one really knew what it was yet, but something about it felt off. I started to pay closer attention.
By March 2020, governors across the country began issuing stay-at-home orders, including Michigan’s Gretchen Whitmer, who closed schools and enacted one of the strictest lockdowns in the country. At the time, we were told these policies were necessary to “flatten the curve” and prevent hospitals from being overwhelmed. Most Americans complied—because that’s what decent people do when they believe they’re protecting others.
But soon the cracks started to show.
We watched as friends doused their groceries with Lysol, avoided fresh air, and isolated themselves from family while public health officials bounced between contradictory guidelines. Masks were first “not helpful,” then “mandatory.” You could shop at Walmart but not plant tomatoes. You could walk the beach but not launch a boat. It became less about public health and more about control—and those who pointed that out were treated like pariahs.
I’m not a virologist, but I can read. And what I saw in the science—back then and now—didn’t match the hysteria. By 2021, even the CDC acknowledged that surface transmission of COVID-19 was unlikely, yet we were still closing parks and sanitizing Amazon boxes. It wasn’t policy—it was theater.
Then came the George Floyd protests.
After nearly 90 days of lockdowns, social gatherings were still discouraged. But when thousands flooded the streets to protest, we were told by public health officials that these gatherings were “essential”—some even claiming that racial justice outweighed viral transmission risk.
The hypocrisy was staggering. For many, it was the final straw. The social contract had been broken. It wasn’t about safety anymore—it was about narrative.
Then came the vaccines. My wife and I took a wait-and-see approach—not out of paranoia, but out of principle. We believe in medicine. We also believe in rigorous testing, transparency, and accountability. Yet the pharmaceutical companies were granted sweeping immunity from liability under the PREP Act, and the media treated any skepticism as heresy. “Anti-vaxxer” became the new scarlet letter, even for those of us who simply wanted time and evidence.
As 2020 wore on, it became increasingly clear: you were expected to obey—not question. Experts were elevated to high priests. Social media platforms, in coordination with government agencies—as later revealed in the Twitter Files—actively censored dissenting views, even when those views came from credentialed scientists or medical professionals.
It didn’t matter if you were thoughtful, informed, or careful. If you deviated from the narrative, you were out.
One of the more overlooked dynamics during COVID was the role of liability fear. Institutions weren’t simply responding to public health guidance—they were forced into a binary: choose what’s right and choose what protects you from being sued. Companies, schools, and hospitals weren’t deciding policy based on truth—they were reacting to risk. And in a litigious country like ours, the safer legal move almost always wins. But when liability becomes the north star for decision-making, overreach becomes inevitable. It creates a culture where freedom is treated as optional. In moments of crisis, Americans deserve more than liability-driven policy. They deserve leadership rooted in courage, clarity, and common sense.
We can’t afford to memory-hole what happened during COVID. For those on the center-right—and for anyone who values liberty, accountability, and truth—there are several critical lessons to carry forward:
Science isn’t a religion, and experts aren’t infallible. Trust is earned through transparency, not force.
No governor, mayor, or unelected bureaucrat should have indefinite control over your life. We need legal guardrails to prevent abuse of power during crises.
The press chose narrative over truth. They amplified fear, silenced reasonable doubt, and helped polarize the country. Don’t forget that.
Remote learning was a disaster. According to a 2021 McKinsey study, students fell months behind in reading and math—especially in low-income districts. Children lost years of development while teachers’ unions played politics. Never again.
If protests are okay for one cause, they must be okay for others. When science is applied selectively, it stops being science.
Dissent and debate are essential to truth. Silencing people “for their safety” is a tactic of authoritarians, not democracies.
If something feels off, it probably is. Don’t be gaslit into thinking your questions make you the problem.
Let’s not forget. Let’s not forgive. Let’s not let it happen again.
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