AFTERSHOCKS — Within three years of the first government-mandated shutdowns, polling suggested that Covid-19 and its aftermath had become one of the least important issues to Americans. By the time the 2024 election rolled around, it barely registered at all in surveys. But looking back at the past year in politics and policy — as well as culture — it seems clear that this was once again a year shaped and created by Covid. The latest example? Vermont’s recently re-elected Gov. Phil Scott was forced to cancel public appearances this week after testing positive for the virus. The culture we live in, our politics, our politicians, the way we think about our economic circumstances, and even our families are still reckoning with the aftershocks every day. Few people still think about fomites, R-naughts or vaccine trials anymore. Rather, It is the spirit of the pandemic and its response that has seeped into our lives and reordered them. Take a trip to the grocery store. Ask yourself, if you see that paper towels are in short supply as you roll your cart down the aisle, do you wonder about shortages more than you used to? Do you wonder about supply chain resilience? That March 2020 spirit begins to move back in, even if the shortage is simply a store issue. (Or maybe they are still understaffed, as they have been for a couple years? The grocery store basically becomes a choose-your-own-adventure of Covid themes.) The pandemic experience spawned an entire cohort of voters for whom opposition to vaccine mandates and government lockdowns is central to their political identities. While the country clearly says it doesn’t want to think about Covid anymore, the federal government plans to continue probing its after-effects. Many who decried Biden-era pandemic policy on everything from the operation of schools to vaccines and business restrictions will now occupy top governmental seats in the second Trump administration. Even our biggest recent cultural moments are indelibly marked by the stamp of Covid — an expression of the desire to memory-hole Covid with mass events that run counter to an era of masking and social distancing. The Olympics this summer were one such blockbuster event — in television ratings and cultural attention — in direct contrast to the previous two editions, which were each unofficially Covid-themed oddities. In the world of concerts, fans clearly wanted to return to arenas and stadiums; five of the 10 highest-grossing concert tours of all time took place at least partially in 2024 (headlined, of course, by Taylor Swift.) Need further confirmation? Take the Billboard Hot 100 list’s now co-longest running song, Shaboozey’s “A Bar Song,” which begins: “My baby want a Birkin, she’s been tellin’ me all night long, Gasoline and groceries, the list goes on and on, This 9 to 5 ain’t workin’, why the hell do I work so hard?” Yes, for 19 weeks, a song that began with complaints about the high cost of groceries was the No. 1 song in the country. That pandemic-related inflation — the biggest issue for Americans in the 2024 election — was the result of economic conditions created directly by the Covid outbreak and the efforts of governments around the world to pull themselves out of a recession spiral. Politics, culture and economy aside, there are smaller signs of Covid’s lingering influence. When I moved to a new DC apartment this year, I was greeted by a lovely ornament outside my door: the floor’s hand sanitizer station. But upon attempting to use it, it appeared empty. And it has sat, empty, for months right there. America may be done thinking about the pandemic, but its scars won’t stop reminding us. Welcome to POLITICO Nightly. Reach out with news, tips and ideas at nightly@politico.com. Or contact tonight’s author at tweyant@politico.com on X (formerly known as Twitter) at @tweyant.
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