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We have no way of precisely knowing how many lives might have been saved, and how much grief and loneliness spared and economic ruin contained during COVID-19 if we had risen to its myriad challenges in a timely fashion. However, I feel we can safely say that the United States deserves to be graded with an “F” for its management of the pandemic.
To render this grade, we need only to read the countless verified reports of how critically needed public health measures were not taken soon enough, or sufficiently, to substantially mitigate human and societal suffering.
This began with the failure to protect doctors, nurses, and technicians, who did not have the personal protective equipment needed to prevent infection and spare risk to their loved ones. It soon extended to the country’s failure to adequately protect all its citizens and residents. COVID-19 then rained its grievous consequences disproportionately upon people of color, those living in poverty, and those with housing and food insecurity – those already greatly foreclosed from opportunities to exit from their circumstances.
We all have heard, “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”
Bear witness, colleagues and friends: It will be our shared shame if we too continue to fail in our response to COVID-19. But failure need not happen because protecting ourselves and our country is a solvable problem; complex and demanding for sure, but solvable.
To battle trauma, we must first define it
The sine qua non of a disaster is its psychic and social trauma. I asked Maureen Sayres Van Niel, MD, chair of the American Psychiatric Association’s Minority and Underrepresented Caucus and a former steering committee member of the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, to define trauma. She said, “It is [the product of] a catastrophic, unexpected event over which we have little control, with grave consequences to the lives and psychological functioning of those individuals and groups affected.”
The COVID-19 pandemic is a massively amplified traumatic event because of the virulence and contagious properties of the virus and its variants; the absence of end date on the horizon; its effect as a proverbial ax that disproportionately falls on the majority of the populace experiencing racial and social inequities; and the ironic yet necessary imperative to distance ourselves from those we care about and who care about us.
Four interdependent factors drive the magnitude of the traumatic impact of a disaster: the degree of exposure to the life-threatening event; the duration and threat of recurrence; an individual’s preexisting (natural and human-made) trauma and mental and addictive disorders; and the adequacy of family and fundamental resources such as housing, food, safety, and access to health care (the social dimensions of health and mental health). These factors underline the “who,” “what,” “where,” and “how” of what should have been (and continue to be) an effective public health response to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Yet existing categories that we have used to predict risk for trauma no longer hold. The gravity, prevalence, and persistence of COVID-19’s horrors erase any differences among victims, witnesses, and bystanders. Dr Sayres Van Niel asserts that we have a “collective, national trauma.” In April, the Kaiser Family Foundation’s Vaccine Monitor reported that 24% of U.S. adults had a close friend or family member who died of COVID-19. That’s 82 million Americans! Our country has eclipsed individual victimization and trauma because we are all in its maw.
Vital lessons from the past
In a previous column, I described my role as New York City’s mental health commissioner after 9/11 and the many lessons we learned during that multiyear process. Our work served as a template for other disasters to follow, such as Hurricane Sandy. Its value to COVID-19 is equally apparent.
We learned that those most at risk of developing symptomatic, functionally impairing mental illness had prior traumatic experiences (for example, from childhood abuse or neglect, violence, war, and forced displacement from their native land) and/or a preexisting mental or substance use disorder.
Once these individuals and communities were identified, we could prioritize their treatment and care. Doing so required mobilizing both inner and external (social) resources, which can be used before disaster strikes or in its wake.
For individuals, adaptive resources include developing any of a number of mind-body activities (for example, meditation, mindfulness, slow breathing, and yoga); sufficient but not necessarily excessive levels of exercise (as has been said, if exercise were a pill, it would be the most potent of medicines); nourishing diets; sleep, nature’s restorative state; and perhaps most important, attachment and human connection to people who care about you and whom you care about and trust.
This does not necessarily mean holding or following an institutional religion or belonging to house of worship (though, of course, that melds and augments faith with community). For a great many, myself included, there is spirituality, the belief in a greater power, which need not be a God yet instills a sense of the vastness, universality, and continuity of life.
For communities, adaptive resources include safe homes and neighborhoods; diminishing housing and food insecurity; education, including pre-K; employment, with a livable wage; ridding human interactions of the endless, so-called microaggressions (which are not micro at all, because they accrue) of race, ethnic, class, and age discrimination and injustice; and ready access to quality and affordable health care, now more than ever for the rising tide of mental and substance use disorders that COVID-19 has unleashed.
Every gain we make to ablate racism, social injustice, discrimination, and widely and deeply spread resource and opportunity inequities means more cohesion among the members of our collective tribe. Greater cohesion, a love for thy neighbor, and equity (in action, not polemics) will fuel the resilience we will need to withstand more of COVID-19’s ongoing trauma; that of other, inescapable disasters and losses; and the wear and tear of everyday life. The rewards of equity are priceless and include the dignity that derives from fairness and justice – given and received.
An unprecedented disaster requires a bold response
My, what a list. But to me, the encompassing nature of what’s needed means that we can make differences anywhere, everywhere, and in countless and continuous ways.
The measure of any society is in how it cares for those who are foreclosed, through no fault of their own, from what we all want: a life safe from violence, secure in housing and food, with loving relationships and the pride that comes of making contributions, each in our own, wonderfully unique way.
Where will we all be in a year, 2, or 3 from now? Prepared, or not? Emotionally inoculated, or not? Better equipped, or not? As divided, or more cohesive?
Well, I imagine that depends on each and every one of us.
Lloyd I. Sederer, MD, is a psychiatrist, public health doctor, and writer. He is an adjunct professor at the Columbia University School of Public Health, director of Columbia Psychiatry Media, chief medical officer of Bongo Media, and chair of the advisory board of Get Help. He has been chief medical officer of McLean Hospital, a Harvard teaching hospital; mental health commissioner of New York City (in the Bloomberg administration); and chief medical officer of the New York State Office of Mental Health, the nation’s largest state mental health agency.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
We have no way of precisely knowing how many lives might have been saved, and how much grief and loneliness spared and economic ruin contained during COVID-19 if we had risen to its myriad challenges in a timely fashion. However, I feel we can safely say that the United States deserves to be graded with an “F” for its management of the pandemic.
To render this grade, we need only to read the countless verified reports of how critically needed public health measures were not taken soon enough, or sufficiently, to substantially mitigate human and societal suffering.
This began with the failure to protect doctors, nurses, and technicians, who did not have the personal protective equipment needed to prevent infection and spare risk to their loved ones. It soon extended to the country’s failure to adequately protect all its citizens and residents. COVID-19 then rained its grievous consequences disproportionately upon people of color, those living in poverty, and those with housing and food insecurity – those already greatly foreclosed from opportunities to exit from their circumstances.
We all have heard, “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”
Bear witness, colleagues and friends: It will be our shared shame if we too continue to fail in our response to COVID-19. But failure need not happen because protecting ourselves and our country is a solvable problem; complex and demanding for sure, but solvable.
To battle trauma, we must first define it
The sine qua non of a disaster is its psychic and social trauma. I asked Maureen Sayres Van Niel, MD, chair of the American Psychiatric Association’s Minority and Underrepresented Caucus and a former steering committee member of the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, to define trauma. She said, “It is [the product of] a catastrophic, unexpected event over which we have little control, with grave consequences to the lives and psychological functioning of those individuals and groups affected.”
The COVID-19 pandemic is a massively amplified traumatic event because of the virulence and contagious properties of the virus and its variants; the absence of end date on the horizon; its effect as a proverbial ax that disproportionately falls on the majority of the populace experiencing racial and social inequities; and the ironic yet necessary imperative to distance ourselves from those we care about and who care about us.
Four interdependent factors drive the magnitude of the traumatic impact of a disaster: the degree of exposure to the life-threatening event; the duration and threat of recurrence; an individual’s preexisting (natural and human-made) trauma and mental and addictive disorders; and the adequacy of family and fundamental resources such as housing, food, safety, and access to health care (the social dimensions of health and mental health). These factors underline the “who,” “what,” “where,” and “how” of what should have been (and continue to be) an effective public health response to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Yet existing categories that we have used to predict risk for trauma no longer hold. The gravity, prevalence, and persistence of COVID-19’s horrors erase any differences among victims, witnesses, and bystanders. Dr Sayres Van Niel asserts that we have a “collective, national trauma.” In April, the Kaiser Family Foundation’s Vaccine Monitor reported that 24% of U.S. adults had a close friend or family member who died of COVID-19. That’s 82 million Americans! Our country has eclipsed individual victimization and trauma because we are all in its maw.
Vital lessons from the past
In a previous column, I described my role as New York City’s mental health commissioner after 9/11 and the many lessons we learned during that multiyear process. Our work served as a template for other disasters to follow, such as Hurricane Sandy. Its value to COVID-19 is equally apparent.
We learned that those most at risk of developing symptomatic, functionally impairing mental illness had prior traumatic experiences (for example, from childhood abuse or neglect, violence, war, and forced displacement from their native land) and/or a preexisting mental or substance use disorder.
Once these individuals and communities were identified, we could prioritize their treatment and care. Doing so required mobilizing both inner and external (social) resources, which can be used before disaster strikes or in its wake.
For individuals, adaptive resources include developing any of a number of mind-body activities (for example, meditation, mindfulness, slow breathing, and yoga); sufficient but not necessarily excessive levels of exercise (as has been said, if exercise were a pill, it would be the most potent of medicines); nourishing diets; sleep, nature’s restorative state; and perhaps most important, attachment and human connection to people who care about you and whom you care about and trust.
This does not necessarily mean holding or following an institutional religion or belonging to house of worship (though, of course, that melds and augments faith with community). For a great many, myself included, there is spirituality, the belief in a greater power, which need not be a God yet instills a sense of the vastness, universality, and continuity of life.
For communities, adaptive resources include safe homes and neighborhoods; diminishing housing and food insecurity; education, including pre-K; employment, with a livable wage; ridding human interactions of the endless, so-called microaggressions (which are not micro at all, because they accrue) of race, ethnic, class, and age discrimination and injustice; and ready access to quality and affordable health care, now more than ever for the rising tide of mental and substance use disorders that COVID-19 has unleashed.
Every gain we make to ablate racism, social injustice, discrimination, and widely and deeply spread resource and opportunity inequities means more cohesion among the members of our collective tribe. Greater cohesion, a love for thy neighbor, and equity (in action, not polemics) will fuel the resilience we will need to withstand more of COVID-19’s ongoing trauma; that of other, inescapable disasters and losses; and the wear and tear of everyday life. The rewards of equity are priceless and include the dignity that derives from fairness and justice – given and received.
An unprecedented disaster requires a bold response
My, what a list. But to me, the encompassing nature of what’s needed means that we can make differences anywhere, everywhere, and in countless and continuous ways.
The measure of any society is in how it cares for those who are foreclosed, through no fault of their own, from what we all want: a life safe from violence, secure in housing and food, with loving relationships and the pride that comes of making contributions, each in our own, wonderfully unique way.
Where will we all be in a year, 2, or 3 from now? Prepared, or not? Emotionally inoculated, or not? Better equipped, or not? As divided, or more cohesive?
Well, I imagine that depends on each and every one of us.
Lloyd I. Sederer, MD, is a psychiatrist, public health doctor, and writer. He is an adjunct professor at the Columbia University School of Public Health, director of Columbia Psychiatry Media, chief medical officer of Bongo Media, and chair of the advisory board of Get Help. He has been chief medical officer of McLean Hospital, a Harvard teaching hospital; mental health commissioner of New York City (in the Bloomberg administration); and chief medical officer of the New York State Office of Mental Health, the nation’s largest state mental health agency.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
We have no way of precisely knowing how many lives might have been saved, and how much grief and loneliness spared and economic ruin contained during COVID-19 if we had risen to its myriad challenges in a timely fashion. However, I feel we can safely say that the United States deserves to be graded with an “F” for its management of the pandemic.
To render this grade, we need only to read the countless verified reports of how critically needed public health measures were not taken soon enough, or sufficiently, to substantially mitigate human and societal suffering.
This began with the failure to protect doctors, nurses, and technicians, who did not have the personal protective equipment needed to prevent infection and spare risk to their loved ones. It soon extended to the country’s failure to adequately protect all its citizens and residents. COVID-19 then rained its grievous consequences disproportionately upon people of color, those living in poverty, and those with housing and food insecurity – those already greatly foreclosed from opportunities to exit from their circumstances.
We all have heard, “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”
Bear witness, colleagues and friends: It will be our shared shame if we too continue to fail in our response to COVID-19. But failure need not happen because protecting ourselves and our country is a solvable problem; complex and demanding for sure, but solvable.
To battle trauma, we must first define it
The sine qua non of a disaster is its psychic and social trauma. I asked Maureen Sayres Van Niel, MD, chair of the American Psychiatric Association’s Minority and Underrepresented Caucus and a former steering committee member of the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, to define trauma. She said, “It is [the product of] a catastrophic, unexpected event over which we have little control, with grave consequences to the lives and psychological functioning of those individuals and groups affected.”
The COVID-19 pandemic is a massively amplified traumatic event because of the virulence and contagious properties of the virus and its variants; the absence of end date on the horizon; its effect as a proverbial ax that disproportionately falls on the majority of the populace experiencing racial and social inequities; and the ironic yet necessary imperative to distance ourselves from those we care about and who care about us.
Four interdependent factors drive the magnitude of the traumatic impact of a disaster: the degree of exposure to the life-threatening event; the duration and threat of recurrence; an individual’s preexisting (natural and human-made) trauma and mental and addictive disorders; and the adequacy of family and fundamental resources such as housing, food, safety, and access to health care (the social dimensions of health and mental health). These factors underline the “who,” “what,” “where,” and “how” of what should have been (and continue to be) an effective public health response to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Yet existing categories that we have used to predict risk for trauma no longer hold. The gravity, prevalence, and persistence of COVID-19’s horrors erase any differences among victims, witnesses, and bystanders. Dr Sayres Van Niel asserts that we have a “collective, national trauma.” In April, the Kaiser Family Foundation’s Vaccine Monitor reported that 24% of U.S. adults had a close friend or family member who died of COVID-19. That’s 82 million Americans! Our country has eclipsed individual victimization and trauma because we are all in its maw.
Vital lessons from the past
In a previous column, I described my role as New York City’s mental health commissioner after 9/11 and the many lessons we learned during that multiyear process. Our work served as a template for other disasters to follow, such as Hurricane Sandy. Its value to COVID-19 is equally apparent.
We learned that those most at risk of developing symptomatic, functionally impairing mental illness had prior traumatic experiences (for example, from childhood abuse or neglect, violence, war, and forced displacement from their native land) and/or a preexisting mental or substance use disorder.
Once these individuals and communities were identified, we could prioritize their treatment and care. Doing so required mobilizing both inner and external (social) resources, which can be used before disaster strikes or in its wake.
For individuals, adaptive resources include developing any of a number of mind-body activities (for example, meditation, mindfulness, slow breathing, and yoga); sufficient but not necessarily excessive levels of exercise (as has been said, if exercise were a pill, it would be the most potent of medicines); nourishing diets; sleep, nature’s restorative state; and perhaps most important, attachment and human connection to people who care about you and whom you care about and trust.
This does not necessarily mean holding or following an institutional religion or belonging to house of worship (though, of course, that melds and augments faith with community). For a great many, myself included, there is spirituality, the belief in a greater power, which need not be a God yet instills a sense of the vastness, universality, and continuity of life.
For communities, adaptive resources include safe homes and neighborhoods; diminishing housing and food insecurity; education, including pre-K; employment, with a livable wage; ridding human interactions of the endless, so-called microaggressions (which are not micro at all, because they accrue) of race, ethnic, class, and age discrimination and injustice; and ready access to quality and affordable health care, now more than ever for the rising tide of mental and substance use disorders that COVID-19 has unleashed.
Every gain we make to ablate racism, social injustice, discrimination, and widely and deeply spread resource and opportunity inequities means more cohesion among the members of our collective tribe. Greater cohesion, a love for thy neighbor, and equity (in action, not polemics) will fuel the resilience we will need to withstand more of COVID-19’s ongoing trauma; that of other, inescapable disasters and losses; and the wear and tear of everyday life. The rewards of equity are priceless and include the dignity that derives from fairness and justice – given and received.
An unprecedented disaster requires a bold response
My, what a list. But to me, the encompassing nature of what’s needed means that we can make differences anywhere, everywhere, and in countless and continuous ways.
The measure of any society is in how it cares for those who are foreclosed, through no fault of their own, from what we all want: a life safe from violence, secure in housing and food, with loving relationships and the pride that comes of making contributions, each in our own, wonderfully unique way.
Where will we all be in a year, 2, or 3 from now? Prepared, or not? Emotionally inoculated, or not? Better equipped, or not? As divided, or more cohesive?
Well, I imagine that depends on each and every one of us.
Lloyd I. Sederer, MD, is a psychiatrist, public health doctor, and writer. He is an adjunct professor at the Columbia University School of Public Health, director of Columbia Psychiatry Media, chief medical officer of Bongo Media, and chair of the advisory board of Get Help. He has been chief medical officer of McLean Hospital, a Harvard teaching hospital; mental health commissioner of New York City (in the Bloomberg administration); and chief medical officer of the New York State Office of Mental Health, the nation’s largest state mental health agency.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.