“We can dance if we want to,” Men Without Hats declared in their 1982 hit, “The Safety Dance.” This catchy tune, resurfacing on classic radio stations, ironically encapsulates the anxieties and divisions of our current era, especially concerning “safety” in the wake of global events. The lyrics, “We can leave your friends behind / ‘Cause your friends don’t dance and if they don’t dance / Well they’re, no friends of mine,” resonate with a new, perhaps unintended, meaning in a world grappling with varying perceptions of risk and security.
This notion of a “safety dance”—a performance driven by the pursuit of security, real or perceived—isn’t entirely new. Even before recent global events, a preoccupation with “feeling safe” was emerging. Consider the 2016 incident at Emory University, where students protested sidewalk chalk messages supporting a presidential candidate, claiming they felt “unsafe.” This reaction, seemingly disproportionate to the innocuous nature of chalk on a sidewalk, signaled a growing trend of equating discomfort or disagreement with a lack of safety.
More recently, a personal anecdote highlights this amplified focus on safety. A friend expressed genuine fear for his life around unvaccinated individuals due to concerns about the Delta variant and the perceived reduced efficacy of his Johnson & Johnson vaccine. While his fear is understandable on a personal level, it reflects a broader societal shift where “feeling safe” often overshadows objective risk assessment, scientific data, and even established relationships. This heightened anxiety can strain social bonds, as seen in the numerous online clashes over mask mandates and vaccine debates, where differing views on “safety” lead to fractured friendships and polarized communities – echoing the song’s line, “if they don’t dance / Well they’re, no friends of mine.”
The COVID-19 “Safety Dance,” therefore, seems less about achieving actual safety and more about the performance of feeling secure. It’s a cultural phenomenon arguably more aligned with historical instances of mass hysteria than with rational risk mitigation. Think of St. John’s Dance or St. Vitus’s Dance, medieval outbreaks where groups in Europe engaged in uncontrolled dancing frenzies for days, driven by unknown psychological or social pressures. These historical parallels suggest that the contemporary “safety dance” might be rooted in a similar collective anxiety, where the act of performing safety measures becomes more crucial than their objective effectiveness.
Initially, even prominent voices like US Surgeon General Jerome Adams and Dr. Anthony Fauci downplayed the effectiveness of public masking against viral spread, citing scientific evidence. However, this stance quickly shifted under political and social pressure to implement measures that would make people “feel safe.” The widespread adoption of masks, often worn even when not strictly necessary based on initial scientific guidance, became a visible symbol of adherence to this “Cult of Feeling Safe,” accompanied by a ubiquitous reliance on hand sanitizers.
Even with the widespread availability of vaccines, the impulse to continue the “Safety Dance” persists for many. This continued performance of safety protocols, even when scientific consensus evolves or personal risk levels change, suggests that the underlying motivation is less about tangible risk reduction and more about maintaining a feeling of control and security in an uncertain world. This constant state of alert and performance of safety, however, can be detrimental to overall well-being. As the song suggests we can dance if we want to, it also implies a choice, a freedom that seems diminished in an environment dominated by the imperative to always perform “safety.” The prolonged engagement in this “Safety Dance,” much like its historical counterparts, may ultimately prove to be, in its own way, unhealthy.
