The following is presented as part of The Columbian’s Opinion content, which offers a point of view in order to provoke thought and debate of civic issues. Opinions represent the viewpoint of the author. Unsigned editorials represent the consensus opinion of The Columbian’s editorial board, which operates independently of the news department.
It’s one of those great Latin phrases: in the place of a parent. It’s a great phrase because of exactly how little it proves.
When is someone who is not a parent allowed to act in the place of a parent? And when is someone who is a parent not allowed to act as a parent?
We never used to ask these questions — or, at least, we never used to ask them in the same context. When I was a child, no one “protested” polio vaccines, or at least no one that I knew of did. The teachers lined up the cups of orange juice; we drank them down; and, of course, we said thank you.
In Garcia v. City of New York, the court held that schools take the place of parents the moment they take physical custody and control of students. And in California, teachers and administrators are permitted to exercise control over children to the same degree as a parent without the threat of criminal prosecution when doing so. That’s in loco parentis, but how does that impact vaccine mandates in public schools?
I carried a picture in my head of an “iron lung,” but I’m pretty sure I never saw one; if I did, I would actually remember.
Last week, in light of the announcement that the Pfizer vaccine is safe for children 5-11, at least based on what we know now, the question of who can authorize a vaccine — and/or who must — has moved to center stage. It is a life-and-death question.
In an ideal world, you’d like to believe that there is AN answer. SCIENCE. But even in the best of worlds, who knows what science will tell us 50 years from now?
My sister was treated with an anti-cancer drug. No one knew then that, 30 years down the road, the drug would cause congestive heart failure. And even if we had known? At 33, she would have taken the deal.
And what do we know about what will cause congestive heart failure 30 years from now?
Science, facts, truth — all of it is simply relative, contextual, based on what we think we know now, some of which will turn out to be wrong. The point is that in a world in which we trust each other, in a world in which we trust ourselves, things are difficult enough.
But in a world in which we have stopped trusting each other, in which we have stopped trusting the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, in which the president can’t pick the head of the Food and Drug Administration, in which doctors don’t trust each other across state lines, in which science has been politicized and politics have turned utterly partisan, how do we trust the other parents, the other teachers, the other caregivers? Never have our collective lives depended so entirely on each other — and never have we had more reason to fear from the foolish decisions of others.
The president is doubling down on more vaccine doses. Not because we can be certain, but because is there anything we can be more certain of?
We need to trust each other. But really, isn’t it more a matter of faith than facts?
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