In 2021, Kristen Magnuson had to make a secret deal to continue a staple of her daily routine: swimming at her local outdoor pool.
On a good week, she covers a cumulative 15,000 yards. Even during Seattle’s goose-bump days. But during the pandemic, the state of Washington required a vaccine passport to gain access to public spaces such as restaurants, movie theaters, and gyms. Ms. Magnuson chose not to get vaccinated. Her reason? A medical history of adverse reactions.
So the mother of two made a covert arrangement with gym staff. She could bypass the lobby by sneaking in through a back door. Ms. Magnuson was grateful, but she felt like a second-class citizen.
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“That radicalized me a little bit,” says Ms. Magnuson, an erstwhile Bernie Sanders supporter. So she started posting on Twitter (now X) and developed a following of 25,000. When she posted last fall about why she decided to vote for Donald Trump, describing it as “a chess move, not a valentine,” Elon Musk retweeted it.
Now she has a plea: Can we talk about what we went through?
She isn’t opposed to vaccines – her husband and children got them. But she sees harm in the way figures such as then Washington state Gov. Jay Inslee unilaterally curtailed people’s lives and livelihoods.
She and others are asking: What would America do differently if the country could have a do-over, or faced a similar challenge in the future? What guardrails could be raised to produce a better outcome next time? And how should the United States strike a balance between accountability and reconciliation, particularly when it comes to public officials and others influential in shaping pandemic policy?
Courtesy of Kristen Magnuson
“It would be nice if they would apologize and recognize their harms,” Ms. Magnuson says. “I want assurance that this won’t happen again. And I want practical changes in place to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
A reckoning with pandemic policies, and subsequent reforms, may both be slow in coming. But there are individuals who are trying to model and encourage a better way forward in areas such as public health, media, and academia. Those interviewed for this article – whose backgrounds range from science to politics – have found that humanity, honesty, compassion, humility, and temperance are needed in these frank conversations.
They say it’s important not only to analyze what went wrong, but also to do it with a tone that reconciles a polarized society, steadies politics and governance, and rebuilds trust in institutions like the media and the scientific community.
“You’re not going to restore trust in public health until you take some accountability for the mistakes you’ve made,” says Dr. Ashish Jha, the White House COVID-19 response coordinator under President Joe Biden. “Then you’ve got to just keep spreading good information and you’ve got to build allies to do that across the political aisle.”
For Ms. Magnuson, a churchgoing Christian, communicating with those with radically different views requires expressing empathy and “speaking the truth in love,” as the Bible counsels.
Humanity and compassion
At the start of 2020, Dr. Monica Gandhi had been in mourning. She’d just become a widow. When the pandemic arrived, she cut short her bereavement leave to protect the patients at the clinic she oversees. “We love them,” she says.
Compassion is one of Dr. Gandhi’s core values. Therefore, she advocates for policies that are fundamentally rooted in the dignity of patients. She would like to see a return to the principles espoused by legendary epidemiologist D.A. Henderson.
“In eradicating smallpox, [he] had a pandemic plan that absolutely never involved coercing the public, but bringing the public along with the response,” says Dr. Gandhi.
In the first months of the COVID-19 pandemic, public health officials were focused on eliminating the virus. Critics, and even some officials themselves, say the broader costs – and trade-offs – often weren’t factored into the decision-making.
Courtesy of Monica Gandhi
“You attach infinite value to stopping the disease,” Dr. Francis Collins, the former head of the National Institutes of Health (NIH), told a conference last year. “You attach zero value to whether this actually totally disrupts people’s lives, ruins the economy, and has many kids kept out of school in a way that they never quite recovered from. That was a mistake.”
Another example, Dr. Gandhi says, was the intemperate attitude of some in the health care profession toward those who chose not to get vaccinated.
“I was surprised when some politicians and doctors said that those who remain unvaccinated should not be treated if they fall ill. People were not ‘bad’ or ‘COVidiots’ if they contracted COVID-19; they were human,” Dr. Gandhi wrote in her 2023 book, “Endemic: A Post-pandemic Playbook.” “There is absolutely no place for stigma, judgment, and a shame-based approach in public health.”
The societal environment of inflamed tension, anger, and nasty rhetoric not only dehumanized others. It made it difficult to speak up.
Amid tribalism, the courage to have honest conversations
In January 2020, A.J. Kay’s daughters experienced COVID-19-like symptoms. The recently divorced mother in Arizona wondered, Could the virus have arrived in the U.S. earlier than the first officially reported case that same month?
Top journalists and many public health authorities weren’t answering her question. So she started digging. Flu surveillance data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention revealed there had been a December 2019 spike in what appeared to be an especially severe flu compared with previous years. Ms. Kay conjectured that it was COVID-19. In April, Ms. Kay published her findings on Medium, where she typically wrote about divorce and parenting.
Her essay challenged the Imperial College London’s worst-case scenario projection of 2.2 million pandemic deaths in the U.S. by August 2020 if no actions were taken. In actuality, there were 705,000 in all of 2020 and 1 million by May 2022. There is no way of knowing for sure exactly how that might have played out without any intervention. But Ms. Kay posited that an apparent arrival of COVID-19 in late 2019 offered several months of unmitigated data to draw from that ran counter to the underlying assumptions of the Imperial College’s estimate. (A government study in late 2020 concluded that COVID-19 may indeed have been present in the U.S. in 2019.)
Ms. Kay’s article racked up over 400,000 reads in 48 hours. Then, Medium yanked the piece.
“They sent me sort of a shaming letter: ‘You’re a threat to public health, and you’re going to hurt people,’” she recalls. “They pulled my top writer status. Editors stopped returning my calls.”
It was a devastating financial blow for the mother of four daughters. Two of them have special needs. At that point, Ms. Kay could have tried to reclaim her previous position by apologizing. Instead, she opened a Twitter account.
“I’m actually kind of grateful I got censored so quickly,” says Ms. Kay, who prior to the pandemic was a registered Democrat who had considered herself fairly apolitical. (According to a 2025 Axios-Ipsos poll, the pandemic caused one-third of respondents to rethink their politics and start paying attention.) “I was like, ‘OK, I’ve got nothing to lose. Let’s do it.’”
Ms. Kay became an even more influential voice in a social network of those who opposed lockdowns and mandates. They called themselves “Team Reality.”
Engaging in debate about COVID-19 data or pandemic policies – even in good faith – often provoked a backlash. Online, many hid behind social media pseudonyms. Those who did not risked being excoriated. Or worse. Dr. Jha, the White House COVID-19 response coordinator from 2022 to 2023, received death threats.
“I had a police car parked outside my house many, many nights for months,” says Dr. Jha, adding that tribalism has been very damaging to public health.
Some dissenters were banned by Twitter. Among them was Martin Kulldorff, a Harvard professor and co-founder of the Great Barrington Declaration.
The declaration, led by epidemiologists from three of the world’s most prestigious universities – including Dr. Jay Bhattacharya from Stanford University – challenged the U.S. approach of closing down everything. They instead recommended a more calibrated response of focusing on protecting those most vulnerable to the virus.
“You have to keep those safe who are most at risk, and that idea got so attacked,” says Dr. Gandhi, who describes her politics as “left of the left.” “Yet that is the fundamental tenet of public health.”
Heterodox voices inside elite institutions such as media and academia risked reputational damage. Case in point: Dr. John Ioannidis.
An epidemiologist at Stanford, Dr. Ioannidis has a penchant for wearing all-white suits and pedaling around campus on an adult-sized tricycle. In his spare time, he’s written volumes of Greek poetry.
He had made his name by pointing out that many medical research studies were flawed, their results not able to be replicated. A 2010 profile in The Atlantic said the professor, who is also trained in virology and infectious diseases, “may be one of the most influential scientists alive.”
Dr. Ioannidis analyzed data from the infection fatality risk of COVID-19 and suggested that the virus, though a serious danger, shouldn’t preclude the reopening of society for most people.
A number of public figures excoriated Dr. Ioannidis. YouTube banned a video interview with him. He was the subject of a scatological-themed meme that circulated on campus via email.
Although he appeared to be in the minority at the time, Dr. Ioannidis says highly credentialed epidemiologists would tell him, “‘John, look at what happened to you. If that happened to you, if we were to try to say anything in that situation, we would be completely annihilated.’”
Image of Sport/SIPA USA/Reuters/File
Dr. Sandro Galea, dean of the School of Public Health at Washington University in St. Louis, has argued that the institutions of public health, media, and academia may need to examine how they’ve strayed from their roots in the European Enlightenment.
That tradition prized “freedom of speech and thought, reasoned methodology, and the pursuit of truth as the basis of a better world,” he writes in his 2023 book, “Within Reason: A Liberal Public Health for an Illiberal Time.” “It is opposed to oppressive ideology – on both the left and the right – and to institutions that codify habits of mind that are inimical to freedom.”
Dr. Ioannidis welcomes such freedom of speech. He urges that discourse and debates be rigorous – but also characterized by respect, dignity, and kindness. That’s not just about being nice; it’s about improving scientific research.
“I always said that I want to give more opportunities to people who disagree with me to present their views and their evidence and their work,” says Dr. Ioannidis. “If they’re correct, they will be my benefactors and I would be grateful that they corrected my mistakes. If they are wrong, giving them more time and more opportunities will be the best way to show that they’re wrong.”
The Stanford epidemiologist says that during the pandemic it was difficult for anyone to have the full picture of what was happening. It’s unfortunate, he adds, that those with a public presence were praised by some and attacked by others. In his view, scientists shouldn’t be lionized – or demonized.
Dr. Gandhi is among those who worry that anger about the mistakes of the “Follow the Science” constituency has been taken to a “dangerous extreme.”
“If this is a reactionary or like a punishment for what happened during COVID, it is outsized, it is disproportional, and it is again hurting the poor,” says Dr. Gandhi.
Courtesy of John Ioannidis
Dr. Ioannidis also underscores the importance of continuing funding of scientific research at universities, which he describes as an engine that drives the world forward. “We should do our best to try to bring people together again and to say that no one is going to gain if we destroy science,” he says, adding that it’s also important to recognize that mistakes were made.
Ms. Kay is understanding about those who weren’t brave enough to speak out. But she’s bemused by those who were all in on pandemic policies and narratives and are now, in her words, “pretending like it didn’t happen.”
“No apologies, no acknowledgment, just carrying on,” says the essay writer. “People need to come to terms with what they did, or our government did.”
The meekness to admit mistakes
In the summer of 2020, before Dr. Jha became the Biden White House COVID-19 coordinator, he wrote a newspaper op-ed in which he expressed worry about reopening schools. But after the physician saw data from schools that had safely reopened, he went from being cautious to becoming a proponent of getting kids back into classrooms.
“People went from seeing me as an ally to an enemy,” says Dr. Jha, who is the dean of Brown University’s School of Public Health. “I just kept thinking, ‘But aren’t we supposed to be driven by evidence and data?’ But people really felt like, ‘What tribe were you part of? Who were you supporting?’”
Individuals on both the left and the right compare his recent positions with earlier ones, pointing out glaring differences. For instance, he went from being a supporter of vaccine mandates to saying they were a mistake. Dr. Jha says it would be a mistake if he were still giving the same advice in 2024 that he proffered in 2020. Which isn’t to say that eating humble pie doesn’t have a bitter taste. Most officials who made mistakes haven’t taken a slice of accountability. After all, expressing humility can seem humiliating.
However, “Humility is something that we need to start with,” says Dr. Ioannidis.
Dr. Jha is keen to restore trust from across the political spectrum. One way to bolster that, he says, is to be willing to change course, admit mistakes, and give credit where credit is due.
Earlier this year, Dr. Jha said on X that Dr. Bhattacharya – one of the Great Barrington Declaration signers, “who I actually have always admired and liked” despite them holding differing viewpoints – was a smart and reasonable choice for the nomination for head of the NIH.
Yet Dr. Jha points out mistakes, too. He cites a piece that Dr. Bhattacharya co-wrote in 2021 that asserted that India had reached herd immunity. The article argued that, consequently, vaccinating the entire population would cause harm. Two months later, a wave of the delta variant of COVID-19 killed a quarter million Indians between April and July.
“Unless you were going to argue that you were perfect in the pandemic and you got every single call right – which would be extraordinary – at this point I think credibility comes not from what proportion of your calls did you get right, but how much of your mistakes are you willing to admit to?” says Dr. Jha.
It takes courage to take up a position. It takes even more to admit to getting something wrong.
Moving toward forgiveness – and healing
Carol Tavris has never forgotten the day that a man in the audience stood up after she’d delivered a speech. He had a story about how her book changed his life.
“Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me),” which Ms. Tavris wrote with fellow social psychologist Elliot Aronson, is about the trap of self-righteousness. Originally published in 2007 and reissued in 2020 with a new chapter about Mr. Trump, it examines why people justify foolish beliefs, bad decisions, and hurtful acts. They can deceive themselves. Yet not see it. The point at which they recognize their own wrongs, and express contrition, can lead to forgiveness and healing.
Ms. Tavris recalls that the testifier had been in a battle with his brothers over the inheritance from their parents’ estate. The feud had gone on for years. After reading Ms. Tavris’ book, he’d handed a copy of it to the mediator in the dispute. The man requested that his brothers read it. It would, he hoped, reveal to them why they were in the wrong. Yet nothing came of it.
“He said, ‘And then a year later, I was rereading your book and the words on the page shuffled themselves around,’” says Ms. Tavris, quoting the man. He also told her, “I wrote to the mediator and I said, ‘Please tell my brothers, I am sorry for my part in this rift. I see now the mistakes I made in pursuing a course of action that I feel was overstated or wrong.’”
The dispute was resolved within a month.
Ms. Tavris shared the anecdote to illustrate why the U.S. remains mired in the divisions that were apparent during the COVID-19 pandemic. To date, there hasn’t been a public reckoning about what happened. A congressional bill to set up a bipartisan inquiry, modeled on the 9/11 Commission that produced a unanimous report, stalled out in both the House and Senate in 2022. Few public figures, from either the Trump or Biden administrations, have admitted to wrongdoing.
One notable exception is Dr. Collins, the former head of the NIH. At a 2023 conference sponsored by Braver Angels, a civic organization that aims to bridge political schisms, a citizen expressed the idea that forgiveness for those who did wrong is the first step to a path forward.
In response, Dr. Collins mentioned an article that proposed the idea of a pandemic amnesty. That hadn’t sat well with him. The former NIH director proposed, instead, a reckoning modeled on South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission in the aftermath of apartheid.
“That means people coming forward and confessing what they did that was harmful in public and asking for forgiveness,” said Dr. Collins, who was appointed by President Obama and served as a science adviser to Biden. “That’s very different than just amnesty.”
During the conference, Dr. Collins expressed regret for the language he’d used to describe the founders of the Great Barrington Declaration.
Dr. Jha, too, is eager for a bipartisan reckoning. He’d welcome a dialogue with Trump-appointed officials such as Dr. Bhattacharya.
“I think they got a bunch of stuff wrong. They think I got a lot of stuff wrong. We should be able to talk about that publicly,” he says. “I would welcome such a conversation.”
Ms. Magnuson, the Seattle-based swimmer, isn’t ready to absolve top officials until they show “a recognition of harms.” But she has a different perspective when it comes to ordinary folks.
“You have to be able to consider that somebody else’s point of view is motivated by compassion and empathy, just like mine is,” Ms. Magnuson says. “I was able to see that the people here who wanted the masks and wanted the mandates – they were just trying to protect people, too. They truly believed that the masks would save lives. They truly believed that the vaccines were essential to protect everybody’s health.”
During the pandemic, Ms. Magnuson practiced social distancing. She wore a mask to alleviate the fears of others, including family members and friends. Her philosophy is that preserving relationships is far more important than fighting about those sorts of things. She believes in extending a measure of grace to those whose views were starkly different from hers. One example: the people who once sat across from her and said that unvaccinated individuals shouldn’t be allowed to leave their homes and their children shouldn’t be able to go to school.
“I’ve forgiven quite a bit,” she says. “I try and show them love.”
This story is the second in a two-part series. Click here to read Part 1: “Other nations had a pandemic reckoning. Why hasn’t the US?”
