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By Elie Honig

Dear Reader,

I’ve had some moments at the Meadowlands.

I’ve seen Springsteen play there, of course, and Bon Jovi, both as required by New Jersey state law. I once sat very, very high up and saw Dan Marino light up the Jets for 422 yards and two touchdowns on a freezing Sunday afternoon, while the Jets countered with Pat Ryan and his anemic but very Jets-y 125 yards and two picks (this was in the old stadium, not the modern colossus). More recently, we took the kids to a surprisingly entertaining stage adaptation of “Phineas and Ferb” at the Brendan Byrne arena; highly recommended. Sadly, contrary to the popular trope, none of my organized crime cases ever turned up a decaying corpse anywhere in the swamps of Jersey — though I did have one case where a mid-level mobster thought he had an inside tip about a horse that would definitely win a fixed race at the Meadowlands track (it finished fifth).

Just a few weeks ago, at that very same horse track, I got my second Covid vaccination. The transformation of the racetrack — from a seedy palace of cigar smoke and despair to an efficient, military medical dispensary — was jarring, yet made perfect sense. Every once in a while, I’d spot a ticket window that used to sell exactas and trifectas now converted into a patient intake booth, or a concession stand used as a staging area for medical supplies. The room where they gave the actual injections overlooked a now-empty grandstand and the horse track itself, deserted since Covid hit.

I am, admittedly, a bit needle-phobic, and my (blessed) nurse sensed it. As I sat down for the shot, she distracted me with a riddle: what rock group has four men that don’t sing? I thought for a few seconds and guessed The Pretenders (turns out they only have three men, along with legendary front Chrissy Hynde, and the men actually do sing backup; I’m awarding myself partial credit). By the time I worked it through, the shot was in and the needle was out. The “correct” answer, by the way, according to my saintly nurse: Mount Rushmore.

And just this past weekend, I took my kids, ages 15 and 13, for their first vaccinations. This time, we booked them at two separate CVS chains (one inside a Target — a different but no less archetypal Jersey experience). All the feelings I had after getting my shots — relief, jubilation, awe and gratitude at what we are collectively capable of doing — multiply them by five, as with anything relating to the kids.

It’s a big moment for everyone. No, we are not done with Covid yet, but you can feel things getting better. My supermarket recently gave up on the one entry door/one exit door setup, and went back to the good ol’ days of two doors that allow traffic both ways. A small thing, but an indicator. It felt damn good, almost defiant, to walk out through the former entry-only door.

The question now is how long will it take to get back to full normal. Will we ever get there? Or will, heaven forbid, one of the variants break through and erase much of our staggering process to date? In one sense, the pace of vaccinations so far has been impressive. More than half the adults in the United States have now received at least one vaccination shot, and the new expansion of eligibility to anybody aged 12 and up should give us another boost. At the same time, there are worrisome trends. Our daily vaccination rates are dropping, and experts now say we might never reach herd immunity. And our faith in vaccines seems to track partisan lines, to an almost unfathomable extent: over 40% of Republicans say they do not intend to get the vaccine at all, compared to only 4% of Democrats.

What if we do stall out short of the finish line? There has been no serious talk of the government mandating vaccines, and there seems to be little cause at the moment for such drastic measures. The law does, however, give the government a surprising amount of power to take drastic action regarding mandatory vaccines — certainly more than I had known, or than most people likely realize.

The U.S. Supreme Court in 1905 held that states can use their general “police powers” to enforce mandatory vaccination laws. To be clear — these laws do not involve government officials forcibly injecting people, but rather imposition of fines or other penalties for failure to vaccinate; in the 1905 case, a Massachusetts citizen was fined the then-handsome sum of $5 for his recalcitrance, and he was locked up until he paid. Of course, any exercise of state power must be reasonable, and would depend on the nature of the disease, its spread, and the vaccine itself.

This may seem like the stuff of yore, but the impacts are still with us. For example, every state has laws requiring certain vaccinations for public school students (a practice that the Supreme Court specifically upheld in 1922).  It seems we won’t need to resort to mandatory vaccination laws on Covid — barring a completely unforeseen turn in the course of Covid’s spread, and in political will.

One of the lasting impacts of Covid is that it has given us cause to re-examine the outer edges of the law.  How much power does the government hold to restrict our basic liberties, our freedoms to move and travel and work, in times of emergency? How do we draw a line between public health, economic freedom, and religious liberty? What happens if the President or the Vice President is incapacitated? Who calls the shots, as between federal, state, and local officials?

The bottom line answer to most of these questions is perhaps a bit unsettling, especially to those wary of governmental overreach. It turns out that, while our democracy is largely founded on the limits of governmental power — “make no law” and “shall not be required” and the like — much of that goes out the window when things get truly grim.

Thankfully, we’re not there. And it seems like we won’t get there. Heck, it seems like we’re so close — this close — to getting back to our beloved normal. And for that, I’m going to hand it over to the Boss, like he’s howled it many times from the stage at the Meadowlands: it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.

Stay Informed,

Elie

Elie Honig is the author of the forthcoming book, “Hatchet Man: How Bill Barr Broke the Prosecutor’s Code and Corrupted the Justice Department,” now available for pre-order.