TODAY WE BURNED OUR MASKS

This morning we burned our masks.?

Me and the kids, huddled around the fire, throwing masks in like crazy people in some kind of fire ritual – screaming and shouting in glee... Well... not all of us.

I found it fascinating to watch – the psychological realities of the moment were highlighted in the different people. (But more about that shortly.)

This morning we finally received the Covid ‘ALL-CLEAR! from our government. Pretty much all Covid regulations have ended. No more border restrictions, no vaccination requirements, no limitations on gatherings etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc. (There has been a long list of covid dynamics here in SA that have held us by the throat for the last 27 months.)

And … the big one: We NO LONGER NEED TO WEAR MASKS, at all, anywhere – indoors or out.?

(I know that if you are reading this from anywhere else in the world it may seem strange that 'The Mask' has continued to prevail for so long in South Africa. You burned your masks a year ago! I know, I saw it on LinkedIn. But seriously, it really has been a very VERY LONG SEASON for us here, that has only TODAY, finally, ended.)

The joy and relief is palpable, at a societal scale.

For me, it's like a burden has finally been lifted.

I have hated The Mask. (I wear glasses – so, steamed-up lenses is one of the realities I've had to endure.) But NO MORE!! When we got the news this morning we celebrated, as a family.

BUT ... I was struck by the differences in how my children each experienced the great Mask Burning.

Clayden, my eldest (10), was ready to go and keen to throw in ALL of his masks.

My middle child, Ryler (8), threw his in too, but kept his favourite one as a souvenir. (Hidden away in his pocket – we only found out a few minutes later).

But, my youngest, Brea (5 years old) ... well ... she had an entirely different reaction.

She cried.

She didn’t want to participate. She was not excited at all about burning her masks, and tried to stop us from burning ours.

Finally, she reluctantly threw in one disposable mask, as a token. Then she went and hung up all her cloth masks in her bedroom – on her special shelf with her special unicorn.

(The keys were happy about this – now they have all their key-rack hooks back to themselves at the front door! No masks are allowed there anymore!)

I must say I wasn't surprised at Brea's reaction, but nevertheless, I found it fascinating. She was only 3 and a half when The Mask became a thing. In some ways, it's all she’s known. And it has defined her social engagement in public since the first term of the first year of her first school.?

She has worn a mask in public... for a very very long time.

My wife returned home from the school drop-off this morning and said the atmosphere was almost electric – seeing everyone 'fully-faced.' Her first words when she walked through the door were: “Today I got a feeling of joy rising up – seeing kids' faces, knowing they can play at break time without a layer covering them.” She said she hasn’t felt that feeling since covid began. A new hope started rising in her.

But my daughter doesn't feel any of that.

For her, it's all a little too sudden, and scary, to be throwing all our masks in the fire.

In the formative years of her development, when her neural pathways have been developing, she has been told constantly that "The Mask protects us, and others." Even though she knows that Covid is not so scary anymore, and in many ways, life has already returned to normal, The Mask is something that has gone with her literally EVERY time she has left the house... for almost half of her life.

She has become institutionalised.

She has a relationship not just with her specific masks, but with The Mask, itself.

Cognitively she can track with the logic of the moment, she understands we aren't legally required to wear them anymore ... but emotionally she is still connected to The Mask.

Change is confusing, change is hard.?

I remember as a teenager watching Shawshank Redemption with Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) and Red (Morgan Freeman).

One of the characters, an old inmate named Brooks (James Whitmore) had been in Shawshank for 50 years. There is a scene after the old-timer is cleared for release. He grabs a knife and threatens his friend.

After spending so long in the prison he didn't want to leave. Holding the knife he shouts: "It's the only way they'll let me stay!"

The next scene is a conversation out in the yard where a few of them are trying to make sense of his behaviour.

"He’s institutionalised” ... Red says. That was the first time I had ever heard of the concept. Red explains that after spending so long in prison, your whole world is the prison. Brooks was scared of the outside.

Some of the inmates think he's talking nonsense, to which he replies:

“I tell you, these walls are funny … first you hate 'em, then you get used to 'em... Nuff time passes, you get so you depend on ‘em – that's institutionalised"

The Mask has played a very interesting role in our societies over the last quarter decade, hasn't it?

We've reached for it in fear, and lashed out at it in frustration.

It has protected us, and we've hidden behind it – from more than just Covid.

It has silenced us, stifled us, 'invisibled' us.

But, as much as I have hated it, I am also grateful for it. The institution of The Mask has served an important purpose, for a time. But that time is now ended. I can see the good it has given us, and the harm that The Mask has done to our humanity. It has helped us survive, not flourish.

I can hold the two sides in tension. I can be grateful for it, and also let it go.

So why then does my daughter want to hold on to the institution of The Mask? It's got me thinking a little bit ... about other institutions and the hold they have on us.

I recently watched the Netflix documentary series "Keep Sweet: Pray and Obey," a chilling expose of the crimes of 'The Prophet' Warren Jeffs, in the FLDS sect in America. Even after his conviction, sentencing, and imprisonment, the FLDS way of life continues – with him still as their prophet, dictating life for them – from prison. Although in this story, it is the ones who are NOT in prison who are institutionalised.

Institutionalisation is no joke.

We can be trapped in ways of thinking and behaving because of the psychological power of "the way we do things."

There is institutional power everywhere, every institution has it –?the media, religion, medical science, nationalism, woke-ism .... capitalism. And those are just the abstract ones... Specific institutions have them too: like your own family, your own place of culture ... your own company.

Institutions have power, and through institutionalisation, they have power OVER us.

Now, I happen to be of the opinion that power itself is actually good. Not bad, not neutral ... good.

But of course, power can so easily do damage, which makes power a very dangerous thing indeed. Keeping the results of power 'good,' is challenging. So power is something that we really need to try hard to understand and keep an eye on.

How do we leverage the best that we can from our institutions through the power they have. While at the same time watching out for the power that institutions have over us, to institutionalise us in ways that rob us of our humanity?

That's something I am interested in exploring more. I'd like to understand these dynamics with greater clarity.

The Mask has served us well. I have no real concerns about my daughter's attachment to it. It's not really an issue. What I am more concerned about is how we let other institutions shape our beliefs and behaviours in ways that may at one time have served a purpose for us, but now rob us of some the honour and dignity, and the value of being the kind of creatures we are – human beings.

I can think of some examples from capitalism, communism, patriarchy, feminism, racism, woke-ism. I won't write them here. (I will leave your imagination to write the details.)

And I can think of specific examples from specific institutions in my own life. My family of origin, my country, my company, some previous workplaces. Likewise, I won't name them here.

The power that institutions have is real and true, and good. The power they have over us through institutionalisation is also real and true. But it is bad in its effect on us.

This is real and true for innocent children and seasoned criminals – after 5 years, or 50. It is true for individuals and for groups. Whether in the past or the present

What can we do to leverage our own power and agency, to challenge, rethink, and reimagine ourselves in relation to the world?

Answer: A lot, but it's you that has to do it.