I think I must have some Dutch DNA in me

People wear masks at La Concha beach after Spain introduced stricter mask laws during the coronavirus disease (COVID-19) outbreak, in San Sebastian, Spain, March 31, 2021. REUTERS/Vincent West

You might think that after two years of relentless propaganda telling us masks are an invaluable tool of disease control, and two years living in one of the most draconian mask regimes in the world (Spain), I would feel a sense of normality walking through a sea of faces or wearing a mask to the supermarket. But wearing a mask out and about “just because” the authorities said so, feels just as futile, and humiliating, and irrational to me as it did in April 2020.

One of my most vivid memories of Spain’s mask regime is from early in the pandemic, when outdoor masking had become legally compulsory in Spain. I needed to walk down a busy street. I was in good health, and had already contracted Covid at the outset of the pandemic.

Even in the worst case scenario, in which natural immunity did not prevent re-infection, it was extremely unlikely that I would get re-infected just a few short months after my first exposure to SARS-CoV-2 (in spite of the spurious doubts that media pundits were heaping over the biological fact of natural immunity). Add to that the fact that there was absolutely no good evidence for the efficacy of outdoor masking or the likelihood of infecting people in the open air, as public health authorities had insisted up to March 2020, and you can see why wearing a mask in the street simply made no sense to me.

So I just went about my business, and headed out of my apartment, with my face uncovered.