Our Duty to the Vulnerable Revisited

By: Hanya Captan

@HanyaCaptan

Editor-in-Chief

Earlier this year, I wrote an op-ed reflecting on the “Maadi Incident” — a situation in which a young girl was molested by a man outside a medical laboratory.

The conclusion I came to then was that we all have a duty to the vulnerable.

The “vulnerability” I wrote about then was predetermined by the victim’s age, gender, and socioeconomic status.

I often perceived vulnerability in the pre-COVID world as a consequence of social factors such as a person’s socioeconomic status, nationality, race, etc.

All of these limited the way a person could live their life.

Then the pandemic hit.

At first, I had nothing to worry about – this virus had a low morbidity rate and only affected people above the age of sixty.

Then there were news stories of young people getting it. Then there were “temporary morgues” springing up around New York City because hospital morgues were being filled at an alarming rate.

Pretty soon I had to face two realities: I could fall sick with this virus, and I could pass it along to my loved ones.

The harsh reality of any pandemic, especially one that is a result of a novel virus, is that there is no true way to protect oneself.

In this particular case, we are all vulnerable simply by having a pair of lungs and breathing the air around us.

But nonetheless, soon enough, some safety guidelines began to emerge. We were introduced to “working from home”, “Zoom”, “social distancing” and encouraged to wash our hands regularly and wear a mask.

Being able to adhere to these guidelines is an act of good fortune in itself — it means having access to electronic devices, decent internet connections, and a lifestyle which can allow for social distancing, access to clean water and soap, and the means to buy masks.

This was a luxury that couldn’t be shared by “essential” minimum wage workers, those who work in the informal sector, or simply those who were already in poverty.

But soon enough, by December of 2020 there was news of a vaccine and by January 2021 Egypt had received its first shipment of vaccines.

Since priority would be given to doctors, the elderly, and those with autoimmune conditions, and given the staggering number of people Egypt would have to vaccinate, I figured it would be months before I could get an appointment.

But by April, I got the news that thanks to AUC’s efforts, I would be able to get the vaccine. I registered on May 9, and by May 23 I had received my first dose.

I received the vaccine before my parents and other at-risk relatives who registered months prior.

Being vaccinated at this current moment in time is a tremendous privilege. Vaccines are in high demand globally, and in countries with massive populations, like Egypt, there is the added hurdle of not being able to vaccinate everyone fast enough.

Mixed into this mad dash to vaccinate are the new variants which are quickly appearing around the world. We are hearing stories of deadlier and more infectious mutations that are infecting people at an alarming rate.

We are at a critical juncture right now — not just as a world but as a community. Our return to campus was facilitated by students’ desire to resume the best part of being a student — the social interaction with professors and peers.

However, we are still in the shadow of a virus that is without empathy or reason. I return to my previous point — we are vulnerable by virtue of simply having a pair of lungs.

And even if we get lucky and don’t fall ill ourselves, we can just as easily become carriers.

Now let’s consider who we can now be carriers to — it’s not just our loved ones or the people we live with. 

It’s that student in the elevator with you who is under eighteen. It’s the person you passed in the crowded plaza who lives with an immunocompromised family member. It’s the person who would always be having a smoke in one of the smoking areas on campus. It’s your professor.

The possibilities are endless and terrifying, but that is the reality of our return.

As members of an institution like AUC, we will always be under a lot of scrutiny. I trust many of you have come across the jokes about the kids who “byngaho b foloshom” (students that graduate on account of their wealth).

But now, that’s not all we are. We are also trying to pull off the tremendous feat of facilitating a massive return in the midst of an impending new wave, threats of new variants, and a vaccine roll out that is simply not fast enough.

So, for as long as our presence on campus lasts, let’s make the right kind of impression and set a good example. Operating as a community that is well informed and 80% vaccinated, let’s be aspirational in our adherence to basic regulations such as wearing masks and social distancing.

It is not simply a matter of personal safety. It is a powerful act of compassion. Though, we may have made it this far without getting sick or having anyone close to us get sick, it does not mean we are immune.

We are all as vulnerable now as we ever were. We have a duty to the vulnerable because we are all vulnerable.