Wear Your Damn Seat Belt!
I’m old enough to remember when no one wore seat belts. Wearing a seat belt while in a moving vehicle became law in my state, Maryland, in 1986. The first state to pass such a law was New York, and that rule took effect in December, 1984. As of 2020, only New Hampshire does not enforce the wearing of seatbelts by adults, although even minors are required to wear them there. When I was growing up, however, throughout the late 1960s, 1970s, and the early 1980s, I rarely, if ever, saw anyone wearing a seat belt. Unless I was on airplane, neither I nor any other member of my family wore one. Neither did my friends. Neither did perfect strangers. It was something which was simply not done, not ever. Until all of a sudden it was.
My recollection at the time the law went into effect was that there was a little bit of grumbling here and there, probably a bit of push-back, and a period of adjustment while wearing seatbelts became habitual. The issuance of moving violation undoubtedly helped convert unbelievers. It is now estimated that over 92% of Marylanders comply with our seatbelt law. I can even remember the exact moment when I was sold on the idea: I was driving with a friend of mine and nearly got into a head-on collision with the careless driver of an 18-wheeler. We pulled over, looked at one another silently, and both buckled up without saying a word. From that moment on it has become an ingrained habit.
Neither I nor anyone I know has ever considered the state’s seatbelt law to be an infringement of our personal liberties, let alone our Constitutional rights. Nor have I ever thought that wearing a seatbelt has any negative effect on my image, on how other people look at and perceive me. Quite the contrary: I assume that it reflects well on me. It is a sign of responsibility, thoughtfulness, and a concern over safety on the road.
Consider the situation in which you’re driving on a deserted road. Perhaps it’s a gravel road or a dirt road out in the middle of nowhere. Suppose you’re going to be traveling on it at low speed, maybe 25 or 30 MPH, for an hour or more. You expect to encounter little, if any, other traffic. Do you wear your seatbelt or not? For most of us this is not even a question. Buckling up has become so habitual that we do so as soon as we take a seat in the car. Most modern cars will even bark at us if we fail to do so, thus providing a helpful reminder for those times when we’re preoccupied or simply forget. Most people reading this, whether in the driver’s seat or a passenger, would be wearing a seatbelt during such a hypothetical hour-long drive.
Why?
Because when we maintain a habit consistently, we are more likely to engage in the associated behavior at all times. In other words, by buckling up even when it probably isn’t necessary, we’re much more likely to do so when our lives depend upon it. It also encourages others to do likewise, since it is a form of leading by example. For instance, our children look to us to define normative behavior; when they see us buckling up, they’re much more likely to do so as well. In addition, it shows consideration for others, since it means that fewer of us are going to be carted of in ambulances and rushed to emergency rooms as crumpled, bloodied messes.
Very few of us question the propriety of buckling up. Very few of us decry the laws which compel us to buckle up as tyranny. Very few of us, in actuality, refuse to buckle up.
How many of us approach the wearing of masks during the current coronavirus pandemic in the same way? I’m not simply talking about those extremist who insist that their personal freedoms and Constitutional rights are being infringed upon. I’m also referring to those of us who are otherwise compliant with social distancing measures; who understand the need for personal sacrifices in order to protect the general well-being of society as a whole, and especially of the most vulnerable among us; and who affirm a science-based response to the pandemic. Because many of these latter are engaged in a potentially deadly game of rationalization and denial when it comes to the wearing of masks.
“There’s no solid proof that masks slow the spread of the virus,” they might argue. Or they’ll suggest that, “I don’t need to wear a mask since I’m just out walking or running or biking, and there’s no evidence that I’ll spread the infection that way.” Still others reason: “I’m just going to be outside for a quick minute or two.” Or: “I’m just going to be with friends and family, and I’m sure that they’ve all been very careful.” Or: “I don’t need a mask while I’m actually in my car. I’ll put it on when I’m ready to get out again.” Or: “I’ll keep my mask on, but keep it pulled down until I see other people approaching.”
But consider that all of these rationalization erode the habit of mask-wearing. We don’t have any solid proof that wearing masks does not slow the spread of the virus, a virus which is, after all, deadly. There is certainly no proof, only conjecture, that the infection cannot be spread while we’re walking or running or biking. If we’re only out for a quick minute or two, how many times might we cough or sneeze during that time? Can any of us truly account for our friends and family from hour to hour and minute to minute, and is that worth gambling lives on? If we pull our mask off while we’re in our car, will we remember to put it back on again when we exit? Our vehicle won’t remind us to, after all. If your mask is pulled down temporarily, will you remember to pull it back up again when you encountered people and, for that matter, are you certain you’ll have time to do so? And what about the sneeze you let fly two seconds before you spotted the people approaching you?
Finally, consider one more thought. Suppose only one life — just a single human being out of seven billion — could be saved if only we would all wear masks in public? Suppose that person were you or one of your loved ones? Would that not be worth a hot and itchy face?
