LeBron James called it “family talk.” Anthony Rizzo said it was a “life decision” he made for “personal reasons.” Kirk Cousins called it a “private health matter.” Aaron Judge told reporters, “I’m not going to get into that.” Professional athletes just keep coming up with new ways to avoid talking about the COVID-19 vaccine.
There’s some irony to this. The pandemic has partially normalized asking invasive questions about people’s health: What are your symptoms? How long have you been sick? What did you do to get it? When do you expect to get better? Not that long ago, it was considered a little rude to ask questions like that of almost anyone—EXCEPT professional athletes. Professional athletes get asked questions like that all the time. As fans, we feel disturbingly entitled to the personal health information of players. But the truth is that it’s so normalized we hardly think twice about it. So, it’s strange to hear players hide behind the “it’s a personal decision”-type answers they’ve been giving about the vaccine.
Especially because, unlike most of the health questions athletes are expected to answer, this really ISN’T a purely personal decision. Vaccine status is quickly becoming a matter of public policy; it can determine what restaurants you go to, whether you get into concerts, and in some cases whether you can keep your job. Telling people your vaccine status is becoming as normal as telling them your birthday, or your phone number.
This explains why it’s not just strange, but frustrating to hear players hide behind “personal choice” answers. Doing so feels like a pointed rebuke of the vaccines, a way of rejecting them without having to explain yourself. This then fuels fan speculation about WHY players won’t get the vaccine, as well as judgment for not doing so. Terms like “antivaxxer” and “conspiracy theorist” get thrown around. People bring up Trump, or accuse unvaccinated people of not caring about the community. Which of course only encourages players to be more private about it, since any public statements on the matter can become a lightning rod for controversy.
It is in this way that I have a lot of sympathy for the “personal choice” answers, even if I find them troubling for a country where vaccine rates have dangerously plateaued. The language these athletes use suggests people who simply do not want to wade into the ugly mess that the vaccine debates have become. Indeed, one reason privacy is an important value is that people often make unfair, sweeping judgments about others based on scraps of information—exactly what is happening to people who might have questions about the vaccine. Putting people in the position of constantly having to explain themselves is manipulative and unfair, an invasive tool of social control. So saying it’s a “personal decision” is a way of saying “mind your own business,” which is an attitude that I generally support.
But what about the stalling vaccine rate? What about the Delta variant? What about the rising rate of hospitalization and death due to COVID-19? These are all serious concerns, but I implore you to not fight policy battles on the terrain of individual choices. That way lies neoliberal madness.
One reason our politics are so unhealthy is that we have sloughed all policy decisions onto personal choices and individual behavior. In the absence of any plan to transition the economy off fossil fuels, we encourage people to watch their carbon footprint. In the absence of any reevaluation of the systems that produce “systemic racism,” we police language even more vigilantly. And in the absence of a coherent government response to the pandemic, we turn individual decisions to get vaccinated or not to get vaccinated into profound political questions.
Getting as many people as possible vaccinated as quickly as possible should be the main priority of every public official right now. The vaccines are the best defense against the coronavirus. But at the same time, the public health stakes of any one individual getting vaccinating are very small. This is what people mean when they say it’s a “personal decision”: You are not going to solve the problem of vaccine hesitancy by making sure that Anthony Rizzo gets a shot, and yet people talk as if those are the stakes.
It is tempting to see public policy as merely the sum of every individual’s “personal decisions,” but this is a very counterproductive way to think. It is, in fact, a way of shielding institutions from reform: The concept of a “carbon footprint” was created and promoted by the fossil fuel industry to avoid regulation. It directs your anger away from systems and structures, and onto individuals.
So while I get the impulse to get mad at players who won’t get vaccinated, it is imperative that people recognize the difference between a “personal decision” and a policy choice. No matter what you do, some people are going to be wrong about stuff. They’re going to make stupid choices, or act selfishly, or think only about the short-term—their personal decisions will not always be perfect. Real policy solutions can accommodate those imperfections, and are not contingent on what the Vikings quarterback does. So if you find yourself mad at what he says, you should look beyond on the personal choice, at the system that got us here and how that ought to be changed.
On the "public health stakes" of any professional athlete getting vaccinated are "very small" point, what about the idea that at least certain professional athletes are role models and (a) publicly stating they got the vaccine would encourage others to do so and (b) inversely, stating that they didn't get it or that it's a personal choice, discourages other to do so?
Not to mention professional athletes are in close quarters with many others (their teammates, coaches) far more frequently than a lot of folks, the unvaccinated are posing a serious risk to more people than most.