Kevin Lamarque/Reuters/File

President Donald Trump meets with China's President Xi Jinping at the start of their bilateral meeting at the G-20 leaders summit in Osaka, Japan, June 29, 2019.

The Commerce Department announces tighter standards for the export of some sensitive technology to China.

Members of Congress send a letter to Secretary of State Mike Pompeo encouraging him to investigate the role of the Chinese Communist Party in what they say was a cover-up of the coronavirus’ origins and a disinformation campaign about the outbreak.

And President Donald Trump declares at a press conference that the United States will seek to require China to “pay big” for a pandemic that originated in China but spread globally to sicken millions, kill hundreds of thousands, and plunge the world into recession.

That’s just part of the evidence that the already testy relations between the world’s two superpowers have taken a sharp turn for the worse as a result of the outbreak.

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That shift appears to be taking hold not only in Washington but in the American heartland – the state of Missouri has filed a lawsuit against Beijing seeking reparations for the heavy costs of addressing the epidemic – and in a public with an increasingly negative view of China.

With six months to go until the U.S. presidential election, could a rising tide of anti-China public sentiment become a factor?

For many experts in U.S.-China relations, the bilateral tensions spawned by the pandemic have so far been limited to tougher and certainly more public versions of positions that were already percolating. Congress already had its China bashers; the Trump administration was already debating a tougher stance versus deeper cooperation with China – especially on trade.

But some longtime advocates of a “decoupling” from China say the pandemic offers the best opportunity since the 1970s for a robust national debate on the merits of a significant and policy-driven separation. Such a debate would span issues from technology transfer and U.S. economic sectors’ dependence on China trade to sharpening criticism of China’s violations of human rights.

“Three months ago I would have said there was no chance of a serious decoupling from China, but the political environment has changed,” says Derek Scissors, an expert in U.S.-China economic relations at the American Enterprise Institute in Washington.

“We’re still not near the serious – and what would be costly – steps necessary to separate [from them] and reduce our participation in the success of China’s economic model,” he adds. “But all the outrage over the tremendous suffering and economic impact of [the pandemic] has opened a door to a reassessment of our relationship.”

More likely than a new China strategy that sets out to reduce ties, say others, is an acceleration and intensification of actions that were already being pursued or promoted by some in Congress and some China analysts.

“What this [rise in tensions] is really doing is exacerbating the geopolitical trends we’ve already been seeing in recent years,” says Michael Auslin, a distinguished research fellow in contemporary Asia at Stanford University’s Hoover Institution in Stanford, California. “The tensions were already growing.”

Thus there is likely to be rising pressure for action on topics that have raged for years, from stemming the theft of intellectual property and repatriating supply chains critical to U.S. national security, to confronting China’s expansionist activities in the South China Sea.

“An asterisk next to China”

A change that the U.S. and other Western countries should capitalize on in the post-pandemic period, some experts say, is that China is now going to be marked by many countries as an untrustworthy partner. That is not just because of how China handled the initial outbreak of the coronavirus, they say, but because its heavy-handed actions in its pandemic-related foreign assistance has left a bad taste from Europe to Africa.

“The world has put an asterisk next to China,” says Mr. Auslin, who notes for example that the White House now puts an asterisk next to coronavirus statistics out of China. And the theme running through much of the European press last week, he says, was “The Week China Lost Europe.”

Efforts to punish China that were building primarily among Republican senators have recently gained the avid interest of President Trump.

Andrew Harnik/AP

Secretary of State Mike Pompeo addresses reporters at the State Department in Washington, April 29, 2020. On Sunday he said China had engaged in a “classic communist disinformation effort” on the coronoavirus outbreak that made sure “the world didn’t learn in a timely fashion about what was taking place.”

“We are not happy with China,” the president said last week, before separately leveling the accusation that the coronavirus originated in a Wuhan virology laboratory. Most scientists and the U.S. intelligence community have concluded that, based on available information, the virus spread after a wild-animal-to-human transmission.

Mr. Trump and senior administration officials kept the anti-China fire roaring over the weekend, with the president promising a “very strong report” soon that would lay out China’s initial mishandling of the outbreak and then a cover-up.

Mr. Pompeo said on ABC’s “This Week” Sunday that the Chinese Communist Party had engaged in a “classic communist disinformation effort” that made sure “the world didn’t learn in a timely fashion about what was taking place.”

In response, a party newspaper, The Global Times, said Mr. Trump was making accusations without presenting evidence, “to fool the American public” about his administration’s poor response to the pandemic.

White House officials confirm that Mr. Trump’s comments reflect his growing interest in finding ways to “punish” China over the pandemic. That interest has focused on the idea of stripping China of its sovereign immunity so that it might be successfully sued for damages by states – such as Missouri – and individuals demonstrating losses from the epidemic.

Options for punishing China

Yet while demanding greater transparency may be the international community’s right, many experts say the chances of forcing China to pay for the pandemic are remote.

“It is totally appropriate for the U.S. and other countries around the world … to be deeply upset and concerned about the initial development of the virus … and to demand greater information and changes in Chinese policies,” says Scott Kennedy, a senior adviser in Chinese business and economics at the Center for Strategic and International Studies in Washington.

On the other hand, the chances of successfully suing for reparations are extremely low, he adds. “In the case of the Missouri lawsuit, they will almost assuredly not be able to overcome issues of sovereign immunity.”

Mr. Scissors of AEI says that even if White House officials are discussing a range of options for punishing China, he assumes that what the president would settle on, if anything, would be a new round of tariffs.

“The president probably means tariffs” when he talks about making China pay “because he always means tariffs, it’s his go-to response,” he says. “But tariffs are about getting the Chinese to buy more American products,” he adds, “and that’s definitely not decoupling.”

Mr. Trump acknowledged last week that a new round of tariffs he is considering might jeopardize his trade deal with China, but he said addressing the pandemic crisis is now more important.

Mr. Scissors says the U.S. faces a “basic choice” in its relationship with China, which he sums up as “weighing money earned by American technology companies against the harms of supporting the Chinese Communist Party.” Any meaningful steps to disentangle the U.S. and China would be costly, he adds, and “politicians don’t like costly.”

A 2020 election issue?

But he says he sees signs the American public could demand a different relationship with China – and says he would not rule out that demand becoming a key theme of the 2020 election.

A Pew Research Center poll from last month backs up the notion that the American public is souring on China. The survey found that the percentage of Americans holding an unfavorable view of China rose to 66% – up from 47% last year and the highest negative opinion of China since Pew began asking the question 15 years ago.

“This election will decide the course of U.S.-China relations,” Mr. Scissors says, while acknowledging that, at this early point in the presidential race, there is little evidence of either major candidate making significant change a pillar of his campaign.

Real change “is going to take either President Trump or Vice President Biden moving to action against China that neither of them has ever agreed to in the past,” he says.

Nothing so far suggests either man would proceed to a sea change in U.S.-China relations, Mr. Scissors says, but he cautions that the last election came down to an underlying public sentiment that got short shrift in the campaign.

“In 2016 it was unhappiness with globalization, and as part of that, unhappiness with China. That was the story of the election,” he says. “In 2020, it could be a deepening of that unhappiness with China, and a signal from the American people that they don’t want the relationship to continue as it has, that could lead to real change concerning China beginning in 2021.”     

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It was a first for Michigan state Sen. Sylvia Santana. Before heading to the statehouse in Lansing last Thursday, she slipped into a bulletproof vest.

Ms. Santana’s husband, a sheriff’s deputy, warned her about potential trouble at a rally to protest the decision to extend a coronavirus lockdown.

A group of armed white men entered the Capitol and shouted at lawmakers. To Ms. Santana, some were dressed like they were “going to war.” Several Confederate flags, a swastika, and a misogynistic sign aimed at Gov. Gretchen Whitmer could be seen outside.

“I thought that was very scary,” says Ms. Santana, an African American who represents parts of Detroit and all of neighboring Dearborn. “We’re there to do a job, and it’s not to dodge bullets as we try to do our jobs in a bipartisan fashion to make sure we’re keeping all Michiganders safe.”

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Four days on from the protest, her concern lingers. The pandemic has intensified many societal fault lines – from health care inequities to political polarization – and gun control is no exception. Feeling that state officials are overreaching, a tiny minority of protesters are flexing their Second Amendment rights in Michigan and beyond.

But at a time of crisis, their crusade against the perceived tyranny of government is seen by many as tyrannical in its own right – recklessly using their liberties to intimidate others.

The core question is: Where should the line be drawn? For protesters, guns in statehouses is one of the purest expressions of the power the Second Amendment invests in citizens. But no constitutional right is absolute.

“Where do people who see no problem with guns downtown or near a hospital or in the legislature, where do they draw the line?” Sanford Levinson, co-author of “Fault Lines in the Constitution.” “That’s an interesting question both politically and legally, because courts are really receptive to line drawing. I don’t think you’d find any judge who says, ‘Yeah, I welcome guns in my courtroom.’”

In that way, the struggle over whether to allow firearms in legislatures “is part of the culture war,” he adds.

Are hard-line tactics effective?

Today, 21 state capitols allow guns in some form, according to a Wall Street Journal report. But only a few, including Michigan, allow citizens to openly carry under the rotunda. Many Republican-led states balk at open carry in the people’s hall for personal safety reasons, and courts have upheld bans in places like legislatures and polling places, holding that guns can chill other people’s rights.

Elements of race have long played a role. The modern gun control movement is linked to the signing of the Mulford Act in 1967, which banned open carry in California. The bill gained momentum after two dozen Black Panthers legally brought firearms to the state capitol to protest against it. The National Rifle Association backed the bill.

Incidents like the one in Michigan, however, could do more to damage gun rights than advance them. “It’s really now an open question to what extent hard-line pro-gun policies are politically advantageous,” says Mr. Levinson, also a visiting professor at Harvard Law School in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Ms. Santana was certainly not persuaded. “I, as a state lawmaker, want to hear your concerns and your position on the issue. But I don’t feel that bringing assault weapons to the capitol and using symbols of hatred will make me understand your issue better.”

The scenes in Michigan, which has been hit hard by COVID-19, only make it harder to have already difficult conversations, others say. Part of self-defense is respecting the preferences other people have for their own security, which might mean leaving guns at home when overtones of intimidation are possible.

Gerry Broome/AP

About a dozen protesters – several with visible firearms – marched Friday around state government buildings in Raleigh, North Carolina. A Facebook post said the event was to promote constitutional free speech and gun rights.

“When your eyes look at these pictures of groups of people ... in a public building that is supposed to be a center of democratic exchange and debate, and you see a group of people carrying military weapons, that is not a vision of democracy,” says Hannah Friedman, a staff attorney at Giffords Law Center to Prevent Gun Violence in San Francisco. “That’s a vision of intimidation by a minority of people.”

Such concerns were heightened further this weekend, when employees at businesses in Stillwater, Oklahoma, faced a threat of violence with a gun while trying to force customers to wear masks, as mandated by the local government.

“I think we were heard”

But Ashley Phibbs has a different view.

Ms. Phibbs, a project manager and mother who helped organize the Michigan rally, acknowledged with regret that many in attendance didn’t abide by social distancing rules. She also confirmed the display of hate symbols. But she insisted those were agitators and not part of her group, Michigan United for Liberty, which has sprung up to oppose what members see as repressive COVID-19 restrictions.

“I know how it can seem to people who aren’t active in rallies and who are looking at it from the outside in, and I try to be very understanding of that,” says Ms. Phibbs. “But ... I don’t think that anyone was there to really make anyone fearful. I didn’t see anything that would have really caused fear, aside from loud noises from the people yelling. But a lot of people are also sometimes afraid of guns in general.”

In the end, she says, “I think we were heard. I think overall [the rally] was positive.”

Knowing your audience

Other gun-rights advocates saw problems with the optics.

As he watched news from Michigan Thursday, Caleb Q. Dyer saw some familiar faces. The New Hampshire barista and former state legislator had been a keynote speaker at a Michigan Libertarian Party event last year.

But he worried that his friends in Michigan were sending “mixed messages” by failing to abide by public health rules.

In fact, he usually brings witty protest gear – such as a sign that says “arm the homeless” – to disarm fear. It’s a fine line, he says, between free speech and armed intimidation.

“People aren’t ready to have the discussion that a lot of these gun-carrying protesters want to have, which is that none of these laws are even remotely effective or just,” says Mr. Dyer. “But they’re not going to have that discussion if they cannot carry themselves in such a way that the opposition won’t think ... that they’re murderous and violent.”

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Will Dunham/Reuters

The U.S. Supreme Court is not an institution that changes quickly. It was 1935 when it got its own courthouse, and it is only now airing hearings via technology due to the pandemic.

History will be made Monday when, for the first time, oral arguments at the United States Supreme Court are broadcast live to the public.

Numerous state and federal courts have been livestreaming arguments for years – and have expanded the practice during the pandemic. But to the frustration of transparency advocates, the technophobic Supreme Court had resisted calls to follow suit. This month, however, the justices will hear arguments in 10 cases via telephone conference, with audio from the arguments broadcast live on C-SPAN.

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Why did the court change now?

The generational crisis that is the coronavirus pandemic is the main reason. The outbreak forced the high court to suspend oral arguments in March and April for the first time since the 1918 influenza outbreak, and like millions of other Americans, the justices have been working from home.

The high court clearly felt that some major, time-sensitive cases needed to be argued, however. With in-person arguments off the table, they took a cue from lower courts around the country by holding arguments over the phone. And if arguments were going to be telephonic, they would have to be broadcast live.

“It would have been impossible to avoid a charge of hypocrisy that some listen live and others can’t,” says Josh Blackman, a professor at the South Texas College of Law in Houston.

Plus there would have been the risk of the arguments being leaked or eavesdropped on, he adds.

Why has the court been so hesitant?

The Supreme Court has always been slow to embrace change, particularly when it involves new technology or systemic change. The court’s most recent adoption came in 2017 when it made new court filings available online – years behind the rest of the federal court system.

As for livestreaming oral arguments specifically, the high court has resisted for various reasons, including concerns that it could have a chilling effect, or encourage sound bites – from justices and advocates – over thoughtful questions and arguments.

The court has developed in recent decades into a “hot bench,” meaning the justices like to pepper advocates with questions and hypotheticals, often interrupting or talking over each other. And for this month’s historic arguments, the lack of visual cues may have brought more confusion than clarity.

The court hoped to solve that issue by having justices ask questions in order of seniority. But it still puts advocates “in a tough spot,” Professor Blackman says, “because they’re not going to know how the justices are reacting to their positions.”

Will streamed hearings continue after the pandemic?

Oral arguments are the public’s only opportunity to see the high court in action, and they are notoriously inaccessible – to the point that those who want to attend will pay $35 to $50 an hour to someone to hold a spot in the line outside the court for public seating. (Except for select cases, audio of oral arguments isn’t posted online until the end of the week.)

Such restricted access can fuel damaging misperceptions about the high court, argues Gabe Roth, executive director of Fix the Court, a nonpartisan organization that advocates for increased transparency and accountability in federal courts.

“You can’t know what you can’t see,” he says. “Any general transparency would demonstrate to the American people that by and large the court is operating outside of politics.”

Furthermore, 43 state supreme courts and six federal appeals courts already livestream argument via video or audio, either routinely or by request, according to Fix the Court. And they’ve reported few problems.

“This has been done before, and it’s been done in a way that helps educate the public,” says Mr. Roth.

Professor Blackman agrees that while the court’s hand has been forced, now that arguments will have been livestreamed “it’s hard to put this genie back in this bottle.”

Some experts are skeptical, though. For an institution with a historic reticence to adopt new technology, as the world returns to normal the justices could choose to do just that: return to normal.

“The fact they’re so slow to come onto technology even in this crisis,” says Steven Schwinn, a professor at the John Marshall Law School in Chicago, “and that they’re doing it in such a modest way, signals that this isn’t a court that’s rushing into the technological age.”

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Jules Sher, a retired insurance agent in San Juan Capistrano, California, still remembers his first Caribbean cruise in 1973. “I love cruising. I love to get away and to unwind,” he says. 

Like other pre-pandemic cruisers, though, he’s had to rethink his travel plans. He recently canceled a 61-day Pacific cruise scheduled for September, figuring it may not sail anyway. But he reckons the worst of the COVID-19 outbreak may already be over in California, and is itching to get back to sea. 

“The minute things turn around I’ll be on a cruise,” he says.

His wife Carole’s voice crackles in the background. He laughs into the phone. “She says she’s not going with me,” he explains.

That, in a nutshell, is the cruise industry’s acute challenge: What would it take to convince travelers, particularly the retired boomers who cruise the most, that it’s safe to sail again, and will their wanderlust eventually win out, despite their health fears? 

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Just as cruisers like Mr. Sher and his wife are weighing the risks of cruising during a global pandemic, so too are leisure travelers in general, prolonging the pain for near-empty hotels, airlines, and theme parks as summer season looms.

“It’s not just the cruise ships. Are people willing to travel? Are people willing to go to restaurants? Movie theaters? If they’re not prepared to do those things then they’re not getting on cruise ships,” says Andrew Coggins, a professor of management at Pace University who studies the industry.

For now, the cruise industry is in free fall, unable to sail and sinking into debt, amid lawsuits from passengers sickened on cruises and indelible images of people stuck at sea after ports refused to take COVID-19 patients. Even as states begin easing lockdowns, cruise operators can’t restart until a 100-day no-sail order by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention expires in July.

Cruise ships carry around 30 million passengers a year, and while families and younger travelers book short cruises and may take summer vacations on board, the industry relies on retirees to fill longer routes, particularly in winter and spring. Some retirees book back-to-back sailings and barely touch land. “People like to cruise. The industry has a very high repeat rate,” says Professor Coggins, a retired U.S. Navy commander.

But medical experts say that loyal demographic is most vulnerable to COVID-19 because of their age and underlying health conditions, putting the industry in a bind as it tries to rebuild.

Arthur Birken’s next cruise is booked for November, a 20-day sailing from Athens to Dubai, via Israel and Egypt. “I’ve always wanted to see the pyramids,” he says. After that, he and his wife Judy had committed to three more long-haul cruises in 2021.

Courtesy of Arthur Birken

Arthur and Judy Birken pose for a photo during a Mediterranean cruise in April 2018. Mr. Birken, a retired judge in Broward County, Florida, likes to take long cruises but has put his plans on hold due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

But Mr. Birken, a retired judge in Broward County, Florida, is loath to board, not until there’s a vaccine or cure for a deadly virus that spreads in confined spaces like cruise liners. “You don’t want to be with crowds. It’s not just on the ship. What about the excursions? What if you get sick in the middle of nowhere?” he asks.

Cruise companies are vowing to sail again. On Monday, Carnival announced plans for new excursions starting at the beginning of August. Companies have promised a raft of measures, from advanced ventilation and enhanced health screenings, to win back customers. At least one carrier now requires all over-70s to produce a doctor’s note about chronic conditions before boarding. Other changes may include ending self-service buffets and social distancing in restaurants and other venues.

A social-distancing cruise may be a tough sell, says Chris Owen, a travel agent in Florida. “A big part of the ship is the shared experience,” he says. For an industry that needs roughly 85% occupancy to break even, it’s also not clear they can afford to carry fewer passengers. “Until there’s a vaccine the cruise business doesn’t have a chance of coming back to where it was. Not a chance,” he says.

Ellen Silverberg, a retiree in Boston who winters in Florida, says she won’t take another cruise until the pandemic ends. “We’ll stay home for a while,” she says. Even traveling back to Boston isn’t risk-free. She debated with her husband if it was safer to drive than fly. Then she thought about the motel stops and decided to stay put for another month.

Mr. Owen had clients on board the ill-fated Princess Grand, which was held for several days off California in March amid a coronavirus outbreak. Two passengers died and over 100 tested positive. Princess Cruises has denied negligence in not warning passengers about an outbreak on the previous voyage that may have been spread by cruisers who stayed on board.

Even that debacle probably won’t deter diehard cruisers, says Mr. Owen. “The clock is ticking. We’ve only got so many years left to do these things.”

Singling out cruises as infection hotspots is unfair, given how hard crews work to sanitize ships and keep passengers safe, says Harry O’Donoghue, an Irish musician who performs often on cruises. “It’s cleaner on a cruise ship than on an airplane. We all know that,” he says.

Mr. Birken agrees. He’s not flying anymore and is resigned to a year or more without travel. But he may soon have a new companion. “We haven’t gotten a dog because of all the traveling we’ve been doing,” he says. “Now we’re [talking about] getting one.”

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It’s 4 p.m. on a Wednesday, and in a game reserve in northern South Africa, a baby elephant lumbers across a dirt road, ears flapping. Nearby, her mother hungrily scoops trunkfuls of grass into her mouth, chomping loudly as she goes.

No one should be here to see this. After all, South Africa’s national parks have been closed for more than a month, since a nationwide coronavirus lockdown closed public spaces here.

But as the elephant pair continues their meander, they have an audience of 11,322 people – all of them tuned into the livestream of a game drive through a private reserve near the country’s Kruger National Park.

And they’ve got questions for the ranger.

“Do elephants have feelings?” an 8-year-old in Singapore wants to know.

“Do they sleep standing up or sitting down?” asks a 6-year-old in India.  

How big is an elephant’s foot? How close can you get to them before they get scared? Do elephants eat different things in the winter than in the summer?

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As the queries pour in, ranger James Hendry jostles along one of the park’s dirt tracks, simultaneously fielding questions (yes, they have feelings, and they typically sleep standing up, though babies in particular sometimes lie down) and navigating his truck toward the next watering hole.  

For a decade and a half, a company called WildEarth has been livestreaming game drives in South Africa and Kenya, and selling the footage to National Geographic and other broadcasters. They have long had a loyal following of viewers, most of them American, who tuned in each morning and evening.

But over the last month, as countries around the world have issued stay-at-home orders to stop the spread of COVID-19, their popularity has ballooned. Between three and five times as many people are now tuning into the game drives as before the start of the outbreak, estimates Graham Wallington, who founded WildEarth with his wife Emily in 2006. And more of them than ever are South Africans – hungry for a glimpse of a world that while still close by, now feels very far away.

“Since this outbreak started, human beings have lost two very crucial things – one is a connection to each other, and the other is a connection to nature,” he says. “This is one nonconfrontational way of satisfying both.”

Since the coronavirus outbreak began, outdoor spaces around the world have searched for “virtual” alternatives to their normal programming, from 360-degree photos of American national parks to a video tour of the Grand Canyon led by Elmo. But arguably few at-home journeys are as visceral as watching a mother hyena cuddle her hours-old babies or a hippo snap his enormous jaw to warn off would-be predators.

“It’s a way for people to feel a sense of escape at a moment when they can’t really escape,” Mr. Wallington says. And because it’s happening in real time, without a script or a highlight reel, there’s a reason for viewers to keep tuning in each day.

That’s been especially important, WildEarth’s organizers say, for kids, millions of whom are now stuck at home without a lot to keep them busy. The first 45 minutes of each three-hour WildEarth safari drive are dedicated to questions only from kids, which are vetted and answered by rangers from their safari vehicles as they roam the reserves.

The set-up for the tours is simple: Cameras mounted to the back of safari vehicles give viewers a perspective on the park that mimics what they’d see if they were really on a South African game drive.

On a recent afternoon, guides idled alongside a pack of sleeping wild dogs, pointed out a nursing hyena, and watched a leopard named Tingana sitting sphinx-like in the tall grass.

“Isn’t he the best?” gushed ranger Lauren Arthur.

For viewers, no matter how far away, the experience can be surprisingly intimate.

“When I first heard about it, the idea of watching a game drive on YouTube didn’t sound very appealing to me,” says Heather Mason, an American travel blogger in Johannesburg who writes frequently about South African nature reserves. Wouldn’t a streaming safari be a shadow of the real thing, she wondered? “But it’s actually amazing. It feels like you’re really on a game drive, and that’s very relaxing.”

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AP

A Toyota factory employee in Onnaing, France, is instructed on how to use a face mask.

One flip side of the COVID-19 emergency has been an intense scrutiny by investors on private companies doing good deeds. Is a company paying extra to employees required to work on-site or with the public (“hazard pay”)? Is it providing enough protective gear for workers or time off to take care of children at home?  

Beyond this concern for the treatment of workers, investors are eyeing the long-term value in a firm’s response to the larger social needs of the coronavirus crisis. Are executives trying to keep their suppliers afloat? Did a manufacturer offer to make protective equipment? Have big companies resisted taking rescue money from government? Did a corporation cancel dividends and cut executive pay?

And as public debt rises with massive government spending, the financial firm Morgan Stanley offers this prediction: “We expect investors to require [corporations] to demonstrate they are paying their fair share of taxes.”

The public health crisis has “upended how companies operate,” writes Larry Fink, chairman and CEO of BlackRock, in a letter to the investment firm’s shareholders. “In my 44 years in finance, I have never experienced anything like this.” 

One indicator of the shift is that both corporations and public institutions are issuing more “social bonds” to raise money in the struggle against COVID-19. The Wall Street firm Goldman Sachs has led more than $15 billion of COVID-related bonds globally. Such capital will be used to help countries recover from the loss of business, build hospitals, and address other needs.

According to Bloomberg News, “green bonds” that support business practices curbing climate change have dipped while social bonds are increasing. More social bonds have been issued so far in 2020 than in all of 2019. “The stage is now set for social bonds to move from a niche solution to a mainstream one,” according to Foreign Policy magazine.

Private firms have long provided goods and services to the public while creating jobs, but usually to deliver a profit. Yet financial markets are now savvier in seeing whether a company’s response to societal needs, such as a health crisis or global warming, can add to the bottom line. With each crisis, concepts of what is the public good are expanding. Private capital is catching up.