Jonathan Ernst/Reuters

A flag is pictured in a trash can after supporters of President Donald Trump occupied the U.S. Capitol Building, in Washington, on Jan. 7, 2021.

Across America on Wednesday the stunning footage of mob violence and destruction in the U.S. Capitol produced in many citizens reactions almost akin to electric shocks.

In Sacramento, California, retired Air Force Lt. Col. Noel Lipana felt as if he were watching news streaming in from another country, troubled and far away. 

“We talk about being a guiding light and a bastion of democracy, about upholding certain ideals, and it just exploded,” says Colonel Lipana, who served a combat tour of Afghanistan in 2008.

In Savannah, Georgia, the Rev. Guillermo Arboleda, the missioner of racial justice at the diocese of St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church, saw the same images and thought of his Instagram feed, where he’d just seen old black-and-white photos of the civil rights era colorized to put them in contemporary context.

“It just [reminded] me that American history is not a history of racial progress, but a history of racial progress that is met almost every single time with racist backlash,” says Mr. Arboleda.

In Independence, Iowa, small business co-owner Cindy Hoffman felt the media was misrepresenting the mob attack as the work of Trump supporters. She repeated an unsubstantiated story popular on MAGA social media that antifa people started the trouble and were the ones busting the Capitol up.

“Trump people wouldn’t do the stuff that was shown on the TV,” says Ms. Hoffman, despite photographs and other evidence they did just that. 

As Ms. Hoffman’s comments show, opinions about the unprecedented insurrection seem almost a symbol of the deep political and social divisions that have long existed between citizens of the diverse, hyperpolarized country, but perhaps became wider in the four years of President Donald Trump.

Those divisions promise to be among incoming President Joe Biden’s biggest challenges. They underscore a need for a recommitment to democratic principles and an imperative to rebuild and reinvest in political institutions, says William Howell, a professor of American politics at the University of Chicago.

“It also reveals just how challenging the task is going to be,” says Professor Howell. “These divisions really run deep and they aren’t just matters of disagreement about what good policy looks like.” 

A “temple of democracy” that kindles strong emotions

For many Americans, their first reaction to the smashing of historic windows and doors and the incursion into an iconic Washington building was emotional – in some cases, surprisingly so. Taught about in schools, visited on vacations, seen in countless news reports and TV shows and movies, it is a part of millions of American stories.

Courtesy of Rev. Guillermo Arboleda

The Rev. Guillermo Arboleda, missioner of racial justice at St. Matthew's Episcopal Church in Savannah, Georgia, says Wednesday’s storming of the Capitol shows that “American history is not a history of racial progress, but a history of racial progress that is met almost every single time with racist backlash.”

Take the American story of Helio Fred Garcia. His family emigrated from Brazil in the 1960s. As a New York City debate champion in the 1970s he won a coveted spot as a congressional page during the Watergate summer of 1974.

He had come from a country with a military dictatorship, and when President Richard Nixon resigned, he thought there might be tanks in the streets.

“And it didn’t happen,” he says. 

Six years ago, he attended a reunion of former pages at the U.S. Capitol. He felt a bit overwhelmed.

“When my wife and I were able to walk onto the House floor, tears ran down my cheeks – I’m tearing up a little right now,” says Mr. Garcia, now president of the crisis management firm Logos Consulting Group, and author of “Words on Fire: The Power of Incendiary Language and How to Confront It.”

So, unsurprisingly, after a mob of Trump supporters stormed the building on Wednesday his emotions ran especially deep.

“I was heartbroken when I saw my sacred chamber being desecrated and attacked . . . For us, it really is a sacred place. It is a temple of democracy,” he says. 

A new lesson plan Thursday

Sara Zubi, a 10th grade world history teacher in St. Louis, Missouri, on Thursday scrapped most of her plans to launch a unit on the Renaissance. Instead, she allowed the Capitol insurrection to live front and center in her virtual classes at Cleveland NJROTC Academy.

Beyond discussion of the events, her students – most of whom are Black – shared how they felt. The teens had seen a law enforcement crackdown on Black and brown protesters during the summer’s racial justice protests, images they felt contrasted with the security handling of the largely white Capitol mob.

“Students were mostly feeling really frustrated,” Ms. Zubi says.

She says the day’s intellectual grappling was summed up in comments made by two students who said they feared civil war. Though it was hard to respond, Ms. Zubi says, she tried to validate their feelings while also offering hope.

“The fear of violence is real,” she says. “But we also saw that Joe Biden was confirmed, and that democratic processes continue despite this violence.”

Double standards in policing

The conduct of law enforcement in Washington also baffled civil rights activists in Minneapolis, where police officers killed George Floyd last May, touching off massive protests nationwide against police violence and racial injustice.

Nekima Levy Armstrong, former president of the city’s NAACP chapter, contrasted the relatively light police presence at the Capitol with the response to largely peaceful Black Lives Matter protests in cities across the country last spring and summer.

“People faced huge numbers of law enforcement in riot gear who used rubber bullets, tear gas, and sound machines against them just for peacefully marching in the streets to protest George Floyd’s murder,” says Ms. Armstrong, a civil rights lawyer.

Ms. Armstrong says she possesses limited hope that Wednesday’s events will aid the call to reform law enforcement.

“It’s a teachable moment only if people make an effort to learn from it,” she says. “We’ve had so many teachable moments leading up to George Floyd’s death, where we’ve seen evidence of systemic racism, and people say, ‘We didn’t know it was this bad.’”

Sad but not surprised

Terrance Harris is the co-owner of a metal cutting tool distributor north of Houston, Texas. A Black man with a white wife, he has three children.

Mr. Harris says that he honestly was not surprised to see an explosive event like the Capitol violence. He says that he had a feeling something bad would happen ever since Mr. Trump went on television in the early hours of November 4 to claim that he had in fact won the presidential election.

“I thought that was dangerous and would lead to people getting upset,” he says.

Mr. Harris says he’s neither Republican- nor Democratic-leaning. If he had to subscribe to a party, “I’d say I’m a Christian,” he says.

“I think the country needs prayer and a settlement of the heat and division that has taken place. And that’s not on a specific person,” Mr. Harris says.

That doesn’t mean a nation of more than 300 million people will ever be united on everything, he adds.

“There are so many different beliefs and thoughts. I don’t think we’ll ever have an America that’s 100% in tune,” Mr. Harris says.

Bipartisan anguish in the Midwest

Though the mob attack was rooted in bitter partisanship, the Monitor spoke to Republicans as well as Democrats who were aggravated by Wednesday’s events, which temporarily delayed the peaceful transition of power from President Trump to President-elect Joe Biden.

“It was extremely uncalled for, and definitely unnecessary,” says Donald Walker, a Republican who lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, and works in the medical supply business.

Mr. Trump should have spoken up and tried harder to calm the situation and the police response should have been more forceful, Mr. Walker says.

John Kameen, a Republican and Trump supporter in Forest City, Pennsylvania, thought the Washington gathering of election protesters was, in theory, a good thing.

“However, I was very sad about what happened,” says Mr. Kameen.

Mr. Kameen says he is still behind Mr. Trump because of all the president has accomplished over the past four years. But the Capitol violence will by no means be a good capstone for the Trump years, he adds.

“He is going to be painted with this brush forever,” he says.

That does not mean he trusts how the event has been described and framed in mainstream news reports.

“Unfortunately I don’t think we’re ever going to figure out how this happened because I don’t think the news media will be upfront and honest with us,” he says.

Cindy Hoffman of Independence, Iowa, goes further. Besides saying that antifa was behind the riot – an assertion which gained credence when the Washington Times published a story, later retracted for false claims, that said a face recognition firm had spotted known antifa members in the Capitol crowd – she believes that the election was stolen from President Trump.

“All the good stuff that Trump did will just be reversed,” she says, by President-elect Joe Biden.

Multiple narratives

In the short term, the mob riot and its aftermath will certainly rock President Trump back on his heels, says Professor Howell of the University of Chicago.

Indeed, on Thursday House Speaker Nancy Pelosi said the House will pursue a second impeachment of the president if he is not removed by Cabinet officers under the terms of the 25^th Amendment to the Constitution.

But 74 million people voted for President Trump, and the narrative around the Capitol event remains fluid. There are meanings, plural, about the event, according to Professor Howell.

“Some people are going to recoil in horror from what happened yesterday and there are going to be other groups that see this as not just a righteous moment, but a demonstration of their ability to push back against power,” he says.

Staff writers Harry Bruinius and Sarah Matusek in New York; Henry Gass in Austin, Texas; Nick Roll in Cincinnati, Ohio; and Noah Robertson in Alexandria, Va., also contributed to this report. Mr. Kuz reported from Sacramento, Calif.; Mr. Jonsson from Savannah, Ga.; and Ms. Hinckley from Washington. The story was written by Mr. Grier.

Shannon Stapleton/Reuters

Trump supporters storm into the U.S. Capitol during a rally to contest the certification of the 2020 U.S. presidential election results by the U.S. Congress, in Washington, Jan. 6, 2021.

“Pence has left! Pence has left!” a reporter yells through the Senate Press Gallery to all the journalists pecking away at their keyboards as Congress debates whether to sustain an objection to the Electoral College results.

Moments ago, I’d been peering over the balcony overlooking the Senate chamber where Vice President Mike Pence – in his capacity as president of the Senate – had been overseeing the proceedings. I’d just come back to my cubby to eat my lunch and am mid-bite when I see on my little TV that Republican Sen. James Lankford of Oklahoma has been abruptly cut short.

The Capitol is on lockdown, my editor texts me. An alarm sounds and a muffled recorded voice instructs everyone to stay away from windows and doors. Protesters outside are trying to storm the building, she adds.

Then the news about Mr. Pence’s departure rings out. “We’re locking the doors! You’re either in or you’re out!” shouts a staffer with the Senate Press Gallery, a suite with dozens of journalists’ desks that opens onto a balcony overlooking the Senate.

It’s only my third day as the Monitor’s new congressional correspondent, and I can barely find my way to the cafeteria, let alone figure out the best escape route. Follow the senators, says my editor. I grab my phone, notebook, and backpack and run back to the balcony. Below, senators are still milling around – some chatting, a few cracking smiles, others scribbling notes on the speeches they had prepared for this momentous day.

When I agreed to take this job, I was looking forward to having a front-row seat to history. I just didn’t realize the history would be quite this consequential. Not since the War of 1812 has the Capitol been besieged – and never by American citizens.

Earlier, I had listened to the Senate chaplain, Barry C. Black, offer his prayer for the day right in the chamber where we are all sheltering now. “Have compassion on us with Your unfailing love,” he said in his deep baritone voice. “Guide our legislators with Your wisdom and truth as they seek to meet the requirements of the U.S. Constitution.”

After the prayer, shuttling between the Senate and the House of Representatives, I could see crowds of protesters on the lawn facing the east side of the Capitol, waving huge blue flags bearing the president’s name. Their shouts and chants mingled with the voices of lawmakers, staffers, and journalists echoing inside the halls of Congress. Later I learned an even bigger crowd had amassed on the west side, where preparations are underway for the inauguration in two weeks.

As I approached the large House chamber for the start of the joint session, I passed Howard Chandler Christy’s 20-by-30-foot painting of the signing of the Constitution, the document at the heart of today’s debate.

Now, all the lofty speeches about the Constitution have stopped, along with the rest of the day’s proceedings, as protesters break doors and windows and burst into the Capitol’s halls, shouting, “This is our house.”

All of a sudden, Democratic Sen. Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota yells out that shots have been fired. The chamber falls silent. Soon, all the senators are ushered to the front of the room to evacuate. Someone has the presence of mind to pick up the mahogany boxes containing the Electoral College votes on the way out.

What about us? What about us up here? someone yells from one of the balconies.

JUST GET OUT!

Reporters cram into the gilded elevators and head to the basement. When the doors open, we join a stream of senators heading for an undisclosed secure location. I find myself next to Sen. John Hickenlooper of Colorado, one of the more than two dozen Democrats who had run for president, and strike up a conversation. I ask him if he thinks this crisis might enable the Senate to come together at a time of such intense divisions. He says he’d just been discussing that with a colleague.

When we arrive at our temporary holding location, the senators pour into a large room while the press hunkers down in an adjacent foyer. Journalists share power cords, words of support, and tidbits of news, many sitting cross-legged hunched over their laptops. Amazingly, warm food – steak and chicken with rice and Brussels sprouts – appears from somewhere. FBI and other law enforcement officials with large assault weapons are standing guard, making for a well-protected trip to the bathroom.

My phone is lighting up with messages from colleagues, friends, and family. The outpouring of support is extraordinary. It also drives home just how much our Capitol is a symbol not only to Americans but to those around the globe, and how today’s events are reverberating worldwide. One of my international classmates from The Fletcher School comments that if you’ve grown up in a country where you don’t take democracy for granted, then you saw this coming.

Finally, after several hours, House and Senate leaders announce that Congress will reconvene that evening, and we are ushered back into the Capitol. Partway there, we are asked to step aside for two women carrying one of the boxes of electoral votes back toward the Senate chamber.

In just a few hours, the mood has shifted from fear to resolve. 

“We will not be intimidated,” says Sen. Rob Portman of Ohio, a Republican, as debate continues over whether to sustain an objection to counting the electoral votes of Arizona, one of six battleground states that President Donald Trump lost. “Here in the citadel of democracy we will continue to do the work of the people. Mob rule is not going to prevail here.”

Amid pleas on both sides to put the interests of the American republic above partisan motives or personal ambition, perhaps none stand out as much as that of Democratic Sen. Tammy Duckworth of Illinois, a veteran who lost both legs fighting in Iraq.

“I refuse to let anyone intent on instigating chaos or inciting violence deter me from carrying out my constitutional duties,” she says. “My troops didn’t sign up to defend democracy in war zones thousands of miles away only to watch it crumble in the hallowed halls here at home. Yet that is what this effort amounts to – an attempt to subvert our democracy, and in the process it is threatening what makes America American.”

Some Republicans point out that it’s possible to believe there are issues of electoral integrity worthy of further investigation, while also unequivocally denouncing violence and respecting the will of the people.

Others remind their colleagues of how this looks to those abroad, especially foreign adversaries.

“Beijing, they’re high-fiving because they point to this and say – this is proof the future belongs to China, America is in decline,” thunders Republican Sen. Marco Rubio of Florida. “There’s nothing Vladimir Putin could have come up with better than what happened here. It makes us look like we’re in total chaos and collapse.”

In the wee hours of the morning, they finally certify Mr. Biden’s victory, overruling objections by 138 Republican House members and six senators. 

As cleaning staff quietly begin to sweep up debris and lawmakers and their staff survey the damage, it’s clear to everyone that the building will be repaired and security lapses addressed. Fixing what has gone wrong in our politics, however, remains a more challenging task.

I walk out of the Capitol around midnight, past the shattered glass windows and the heavy law enforcement presence, into the still night air. Looking back at the illuminated dome, my biggest takeaway is that that citadel of democracy, as Senator Portman put it, is greater than any building. It lies in a shared commitment to ideals of liberty and justice for all. And every citizen, journalist, and public official has a role in defending that shared commitment. 

The first time Sandra Nikolajevs fell in love with her husband was two decades ago. 

The second time was during the spring lockdowns of 2020, when the husband and wife started taking early-morning walks together. 

“When you first get to know someone, you spend a lot of time talking … and then, after being married over 20 years, you take that for granted,” says Ms. Nikolajevs, the principal bassoonist for the Savannah Philharmonic. “Having this time where there is 45 minutes or an hour and nothing to do but talk about things, it’s really interesting because it’s not important stuff. It’s just ideas and things that you toss around in your head and you’re able to get feedback and have a real connection that way.” 

She adds, “It actually reminded me of the first days of our courtship when we met at Oberlin College.” 

When the lockdowns began last year, there was widespread speculation that the divorce rate would soon spike. Traditional marriage vows uttered during the bliss of a wedding day suddenly took on a gravity that may not have been fully apparent before. Indeed, for a great many couples, the pandemic made it evident that continuing their relationship was untenable. But for many husbands and wives, the greatest reset of the pandemic was that it actually drew them closer. They became more grateful for each other. Relationship experts say that the ways in which couples navigated the duress of 2020 offers lessons that are applicable for when things return to normal.

“A survey came out – it’s called the American Family Survey – and it asked the couples how their experiences are in the pandemic,” says Wendy Wang, the director of research for the Institute for Family Studies. “A majority of them said that the pandemic actually made them appreciate their spouses more, and more than half of them also say their commitment has deepened.”

The annual American Family Survey, conducted by the Deseret News and the Center for the Study of Elections and Democracy at Brigham Young University, suggests that overall divorce rates won’t rise significantly as a consequence of the pandemic. The 2019 survey of 3,000 individuals found that 40% of respondents reported that their marriage was in trouble. In 2020, that figure fell to 29%. Similarly,‌ ‌data‌ ‌from‌ ‌the‌ ‌UK‌ ‌Household‌ ‌Longitudinal‌ ‌Survey Coronavirus‌ ‌Study‌ ‌of‌ ‌2,559‌ ‌parents‌ ‌revealed‌ ‌that‌ “‌twice‌ ‌as‌ ‌many‌ ‌marriages‌ ‌improved‌ ‌during lockdown compared to those that worsened‌.‌” ‌The‌ ‌proportion‌ ‌of‌ ‌couples‌ ‌considering‌ ‌divorce‌ ‌was‌ ‌two-thirds‌ ‌less‌ ‌than‌ ‌it‌ ‌had‌ ‌been‌ ‌between‌ ‌2017‌ ‌to‌ ‌2019.‌ ‌
 ‌
That‌ ‌was‌ ‌despite‌ ‌the‌ ‌fact‌ ‌that‌ ‌both‌ ‌surveys‌ ‌discovered‌ ‌that‌ ‌stress‌ ‌in‌ ‌marriages‌ ‌increased‌ ‌during‌ ‌the‌ ‌pandemic.‌ ‌Indeed,‌ ‌the‌ ‌company‌ ‌Legal‌Templates‌ ‌reported‌ ‌a‌ ‌34%‌ ‌rise‌ ‌of‌ ‌sales‌ ‌of‌ ‌its‌ ‌divorce‌ ‌agreement‌ ‌form‌ ‌between‌ ‌March‌ ‌and‌ ‌April‌ ‌of‌ ‌last‌ ‌year‌ ‌compared‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌same‌ ‌period‌ ‌in‌ ‌2019.‌ Blame concerns over the virus, financial instability, and the effect of being together around the clock, often with children, with less personal space. 

“I have seen good relationships get stronger but the past year has been sort of a ‘stress test’ for relationships and has exposed the flaws or weaknesses among many couples,” says Aimee Hartstein, a New York-based licensed clinical social worker, via email.

Mehedi Rahman Ehab/Courtesy of Karina Zannat O'Connell

Nicholas O'Connell and Karina Zannat O'Connell (center) celebrate during their wedding ceremony in Bangladesh, where the bride is from. The pair started their married life in New York City, where he was raised. After living for a time during quarantine with the groom's longtime roommates, they found their own apartment.

For Karina Zannat O’Connell and Nicholas O’Connell, the close confines of lockdown-living quickly ended the “honeymoon period” of their new marriage. 

In November 2019, the couple had three weddings – two in Bangladesh for her Muslim family, and one in India for his Hindu family. Then she moved to the U.S., where he’d grown up and where they’d met in college many years previously. Mr. O’Connell’s three-bedroom New York City apartment was already shared by his two longtime roommates. Once the quarantine started, Ms. O’Connell was stuck inside with no friends in the city. While Mr. O’Connell played Dungeons & Dragons in the living room with his roommates, she retreated to a bedroom to scroll through posts on Reddit “for the 20th time.”

“I remember talking to a couple of my friends and they asked, ‘How’s married life?’” says Ms. O’Connell, a self-described extrovert. “And I was like, ‘I moved here. And there’s COVID and there’s refrigerated morgue trucks. And I really resent my husband. I hate him. And they were all like, ‘Oh, my gosh, girl. You know, we’re supportive of you if you want a divorce.’”   

Their talk of divorce shook Ms. O’Connell. It was time to address the situation with her husband. 

Mr. O’Connell listened to his wife. More than that, he responded by finding a new apartment for the couple even though he was reluctant to move. His willingness to adjust reminded his wife to intentionally focus on her husband’s good qualities – such as taking on the cat litter and dish-washing – rather than nitpicking about the bad things. 

“It changes the whole atmosphere of the house when your wife is happy,” says Mr. O’Connell, who adds, jokingly, “I’m just afraid if we get a dishwasher, then what will happen? I’ll get replaced.”

“We’re in such a good place now that we’ve actually decided that we want to have a baby in the next six months,” adds Ms. O’Connell. “We’ve renewed our commitment to each other.” 

Partners in romance and finance

According to the American Family Survey, 45% of respondents who’d experienced financial decline during the pandemic reported increased marital stress. 

“We have grown up in a world in which we treat marriage as all about finding your soulmate – which it is and can be – but it’s still, at the end of the day, a partnership with an economic component to it,” says Steve Horwitz, an economics professor at Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana. 

Dealing with unemployment and trying to make a living during the economic downturn has poked at the nonromantic aspects of marriage, says Mr. Horwitz, the author of “Hayek’s Modern Family.” Those burdens have fallen disproportionately on women, many of whom have left the labor force to care for schoolchildren at home. 

Yet tough economic circumstances often encourage couples to lean into each other for support. That was true of the recession of 2007 to 2009, when divorces declined by 7%. In the 2020 American Family Survey, 65% of those whose financial situation worsened said they felt a greater appreciation for their marital partner and 60% reported a deeper commitment to the marriage.

Courtesy of Ana-Shea Fann and Stewart Edwards

Ana-Shea Fann and Stewart Edwards celebrate their socially distanced wedding in October 2020 in New Orleans. The couple says what's sustained their relationship amid pandemic challenges are small acts of service and remembering to give each other regular hugs.

Ana-Shea Fann and Stewart Edwards can attest to that. When the pandemic hit, the New Orleans-based couple had been planning a wedding for 300 people. Then she lost her job as an organizer for people facing mental challenges. Cooped up in their 900 square foot home, where they care for Ms. Fann’s ill mother, she didn’t feel it was the right time to celebrate anything – let alone ask wedding guests to travel. Mr. Edwards wasn’t keen on postponing the nuptials. He’s not easily deterred. After all, he’d been the one to drive over two hours from another town for his first date with Ms. Fann. He told her that getting married was more important than being able to have the type of big-party wedding they’d envisioned.

“It took a little bit of convincing,” laughs Mr. Edwards, an industrial electrical estimator.

The couple revamped their wedding by setting it in their backyard for 15 socially distanced guests. They also broadcast the ceremony via Zoom. It was a “gorgeous” event, says Ms. Fann. 

Days after the wedding, Mr. Edwards returned to his employer’s office for the first time since the lockdown. By 10 o’clock the same morning he was back home. He’d been laid off. 

“This is not a normal time where, as a married couple, you can sit down and be like, ‘OK, here’s our finance goals,’” says Ms. Fann. “It’s just like, ‘Have we made it? Can we pay the rent?’”

Ms. Fann recalls something her father told her at age 16: “Ana-Shea, if you wait your whole life to be only excited about the big things, you’re going to be miserable almost all your life. You need to learn how to appreciate small stuff.”

What’s sustained their relationship amid the challenges are small acts of service and remembering to give each other regular hugs, says Mr. Edwards. Date nights now consist of finding new and inventive recipes to cook. Arguments have been few and far between.

“We made it so well because we have each other,” says Ms. Fann. “And that’s actually something that’s kind of rare and not the story everyone else has. I know a lot of people who’ve gotten divorced.”  

Slowing down, catching up

Jonathan Shippey, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Louisville, Kentucky, says the unique circumstances of 2020 have revealed to some couples that their marriage was merely a functional one. The busyness of day-to-day scheduling masked underlying foundational issues.  

“Some of these couples were on two parallel train tracks and they could see each other and maybe even headed in the same general direction, but they were not on the same train,” says Mr. Shippey, a master trainer at The Gottman Institute, which helps counsel married couples. 

Courtesy of the Prathers

Maryland couple Anika and Damon Prather are making changes to their family's home life and are committed to not going back to their pre-pandemic ways.

Prior to the pandemic, Anika Prather says she thought her relationship to her husband Damon was “OK.” Now she realizes that if things had continued as usual, their marriage would have become dysfunctional at some point.

As the co-founder with him of The Living Water School, a private school in Fort Washington, Maryland, Dr. Prather’s pre-pandemic life had been nonstop. For instance, two weeks after giving birth to the youngest of their three children, she’d gone back to work instead of taking the entire maternity leave. In those days, she and her husband weren’t bonding the way they should have been.

“I was so stressed I would have moments where I was cold, not because I’m upset with him, but I was just so dead tired,” says Dr. Prather. “I wasn’t an emotionally soft person.”  

When the hard brake of lockdowns stopped her perpetual motion, she toppled over. On the first day of quarantine, a longtime family friend and church member died by suicide. The same day, Dr. Prather’s cousin – who’d been like a brother to her – died of COVID-19. She was racked with guilt because they weren’t as close as they’d once been. She hadn’t had time to improve their relationship.

“I just became a hermit,” says Dr. Prather, who spent her days wearing pajamas and shrouded in gloom. Soon after, she received an offer to teach at Howard University – something she’d always dreamed of. She took the offer to teach a few classes, but she couldn’t muster any excitement.

“So my husband, one day, he says to me, ‘You’re going to have to cut this out,’” she recalls.

He snapped her out of her funk by telling her that it’s OK to grieve but not to neglect gratitude for all the good things God had given them. Mr. Prather, an analyst for the federal government, started by expressing appreciation for his wife, as Dr. Prather recalls. “He said, ‘This is the first time in all of the 13 years that I’ve known you that I haven’t seen you running out to meet some deadlines…’ And he said, ‘That means you have been working extremely hard the entire time we’ve been married.’”  

Dr. Prather and her husband began to focus on their family and asking themselves how to make the most of their time in lockdown. They spent more time together, with game nights and family walks. Mr. Prather and the oldest of their two sons grew closer while Dr. Prather realized that her daughter wanted female bonding time with her. They could see what their life could look like after the pandemic. 

“We became very adamant about not stopping what the virus has forced us into – slowing down, holding on to each other, enjoying ourselves, enjoying our kids, and our kids enjoying us, focusing on what’s important,” says Dr. Prather, who has figured out a way to now work part-time. “What I’m doing should not place my marriage or my children in jeopardy. I can still have my career ... but it shouldn’t compete with other things.”

“My wife and I are determined not to go back to the stressful lives we had pre-pandemic!” Mr. Prather explains via email.

His wife has coined a term for their experience: Corona Blessings. “As sad as it is,” she says, “it turned out to be a blessing for our family.” 

In different parts of the world, environmental catastrophes happen in different ways. In Australia and California last year, it was a series of ferocious wildfires. In Venezuela and Mauritius, there were massive oil spills. In the Horn of Africa, locusts. 

And at the remote Aldabra atoll in Seychelles, disaster is unfolding in the form of abandoned fishing gear and 60,000 discarded flip-flops.

That footwear composed about a quarter of the nearly 28 tons of plastic debris collected over five weeks in 2019 by the Aldabra Clean Up Project (ACUP), a team of 12 volunteers from Seychelles and Oxford University. The project’s aim was to put a number to the atoll’s marine plastic pollution problem and to calculate the cost of cleaning it up. In a paper published in Scientific Reports in September 2020, the team estimated that they had collected about 5% of the total amount of litter that had washed up on the atoll.

Thanks to a convergence of ocean currents, some of the most remote islands on Earth – small island countries like Seychelles and Maldives in the Indian Ocean as well as islands in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Caribbean – are bearing the brunt of the world’s marine plastic pollution.

Foto Natura/Courtesy of Seychelles Islands Foundation

This aerial view shows the Aldabra atoll, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, in the western Indian Ocean. Due to a convergence of ocean currents, Seychelles, which includes Aldabra, is one of the island nations bearing the brunt of the world’s marine plastic pollution.

The problem is getting worse: A study published in July 2020 by the Pew Charitable Trusts found that, if current trends continue, plastic flows into the ocean are expected to nearly triple by 2040, reaching 32 million tons – the equivalent of about 35 pounds for every foot of the world’s coastlines. And in December, the marine conservation organization Oceans Asia reported that an estimated 1.56 billion face masks likely ended up in the oceans in 2020.

The good news is that immediate action could stem that flow by 80%, according to the Pew study. Many countries – with the notable exception of the United States – say they are prepared to do just that. At a virtual meeting in November, two-thirds of United Nations member states declared that they are open to a global treaty aimed at reducing plastic waste. As with all environmental initiatives, the first step requires measuring the extent of the problem, which means more local projects like the ACUP.

“Regional solutions that provide economies of scale, supported by international expertise and financing, will be the only way our natural heritage and landfills will not receive waste from other countries,” says Jeremy Raguain, communications and outreach coordinator at the Seychelles Islands Foundation and one of the authors of the Scientific Reports paper.

An uninhabited oasis for turtles … and trash

The Aldabra atoll, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, lies more than 700 miles from Seychelles’ main island of Mahé. The nearest human settlement is 400 miles away, on the African coast. This coral atoll, one of the world’s largest, is home to the only wild population of the Aldabra giant tortoise, and is a crucial nesting site for the vulnerable green turtle. 

Cheryl Sanchez/Courtesy of Seychelles Islands Foundation

Loggerhead turtles like this one often get entangled in fishing gear on the Aldabra coast and die. Most of the plastic litter on Aldabra is a result of Seychelles’ tuna-fishing industry, an important source of foreign income for the island nation.

Despite being uninhabited and strictly protected by the Seychelles Islands Foundation, the islands of the remote Aldabra atoll are said to have more plastic trash per square foot than any other island on Earth. The debris, carried by ocean currents, has not only harmed wildlife – preventing turtles from nesting, choking birds who have ingested the plastic, entangling marine creatures – but also damaged entire ecosystems.

“We do not yet know the full impact of plastic accumulation on Aldabra,” says April Burt, a Ph.D. student at Oxford’s Department of Plant Sciences and the Scientific Reports paper’s lead author. She notes that corals are more likely to become stressed when plastic is present in the water.

“This could have an even more devastating impact on coral reefs in the region, which are already affected by several other threats,” she says.

A price tag “beyond our capacity”

Most of the plastic litter on Aldabra is a result of Seychelles’ tuna-fishing industry, an important source of foreign income for the island nation. Of the more than 550 tons of litter that the team estimated remains on the atoll, 83% is discarded fishing gear, such as buoys, nets, and rope, says Ms. Burt. 

“The tuna industry is polluting with impunity the very ecosystems it needs to sustain and at huge cost to the regional communities who rely on these ecosystems,” she says. “The industry is not paying for the damage they have done.”

The ACUP team calculated that clearing Aldabra of 95% of the litter remaining on the atoll would require a staggering $4.68 million – a price that Seychelles simply can’t afford.

Thomas Zillhardt/Courtesy of Seychelles Islands Foundation

A shuttle boat moves the trash collected by the Aldabra Clean Up Project (ACUP) from Aldabra onto a ship for transport to Mahé, Seychelles’ main island. ACUP has worked to calculate the extent of the atoll’s marine plastic pollution problem and the cost of cleaning it up.

Another major challenge faced by such nations is the lack of specialized recycling technology. In Seychelles, only PET plastic, glass, paper, and aluminum can be commercially recycled, says Mr. Raguain.

“The variety of pollution ending up on Aldabra’s shores, as well as its state of degradation, is beyond our capacity to manage,” he says. 

“In the long term, the cost of removing plastic from protected areas like Aldabra will fall upon already-strained conservation resources and SIDS [small island developing states] taxpayers,” says Rolph Payet, former Seychelles minister for environment, currently serving as the executive secretary for the secretariat of the Basel, Rotterdam, and Stockholm conventions. “Seychelles and other SIDS should continue to strongly advocate for concrete and measurable action against the major polluters.”

As there is no cost data from any other island cleanups, the calculations from the ACUP are also meant to help Seychelles and other SIDS in planning their marine litter cleanups, which in turn would help them in requesting funding and assistance from the international community. 

While the extent of plastic pollution on Aldabra is alarming, Brendan Godley, professor of conservation science at the University of Exeter, remains hopeful. “Plastic pollution is an avoidable problem, and there is a tangible link between our actions and their consequences,” he says. “We can all be part of the solution.”

REUTERS

A worker cleans a statue of former President Ronald Reagan inside the Rotunda of the U.S. Capitol in Washington a day after supporters of U.S. President Donald Trump stormed the Capitol January 7, 2021.

Yesterday rioters entered the U.S. Capitol and disrupted the work of the country’s elected officials. They provoked fear and confusion. They looted and defaced the building. They sought to overturn the peaceful transfer of power being conducted through a lawful and democratic process laid out by the U.S. Constitution.

Unlike the crisis of 9/11, when foreign agents attacked the United States, this act was self-inflicted, undertaken by Americans against their own government. Whether the U.S. can emerge stronger from this blow will depend on how Americans now respond.

President Donald Trump has, at the least, stoked fear and anger among his followers through repeated false claims that the election was stolen from him through voter fraud. This claim has not been substantiated: In every state, elected officials, both Democrats and Republicans, have certified their results as the legitimate and honest representation of their voters. Joe Biden has won the majority of votes in the Electoral College and is the nation’s president-elect.

As has been frequently pointed out, some Americans are receiving information via social media that is simply false. It culminated in yesterday’s sad mayhem in Washington. The riot shows what can happen when the agitated politics of emotion replaces reason and thoughtful debate.

America has been shocked. How it will respond lies ahead. 

“Our civic crisis doesn’t end this week,” Sen. Ben Sasse, a Republican from Nebraska, wrote in The Wall Street Journal the day before the rioting. But, he added, “I believe there is still a silent majority of Americans that want something better. They don’t want tribal forever wars that burn down our institutions.”

Americans, and the world that has been watching aghast, can take some comfort that the U.S. government continued to function unimpeded. The work of Congress was disrupted only briefly. Elected officials of both parties expressed their determination to keep on with the people’s work.

“We will not be kept out of this chamber by thugs, mobs, or threats,” Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, a Republican, said as he returned to the floor. “We are back at our posts. We will discharge our duty under the Constitution and for our nation, and we’re going to do it tonight.” Vice President Mike Pence then properly performed his duties presiding over the Senate as outlined by the Constitution.

After the turmoil, President Trump inched closer to accepting the decision of the American people, pledging in a statement to provide an “orderly transition” to a new administration. 

Now is the time for more listening, for understanding and addressing the fears and concerns of fellow citizens. After his election victory, President-elect Biden urged Americans to stop treating each other as the enemy. “The Bible tells us that to everything there is a season – a time to build, a time to reap, a time to sow. And a time to heal,” he said. “This is the time to heal in America.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers,” advises that same Bible. Efforts across the political spectrum to calm and unite, and not spread fear and division, are badly needed.

More than a century ago, the founder of the Monitor, Mary Baker Eddy, expressed her certainty that prayer affirming the innate power of goodness and love is an effective means of protecting the American democratic experiment. Such prayer can yield results in the form of thoughtful, healing actions that will safely lead America forward.