As our fourteen-day long quarantine has come to a long-awaited end, the world seems full of possibilities: finally hugging that friend you have only been seeing through a Zoom window, making those weekly trips to Spinneys to stock up on “groceries,” hopping on the shuttle to Yas, or hosting “small gatherings” in our dorms on Thursday nights. After months of staying in, quite understandably, we’re all trying to make up for the lost time. There’s so much to do and so much that needs to be done.

While we try to make up for lost time, it’s easy to get carried away and forget all that is at stake. This fall presents us with a series of individual and collective hurdles: creating a culture of shared accountability, navigating tricky situations, braving awkward conversations and consistently thinking about more than just ourselves. Instead of asking what we can get away with, we must pause to consider what is at stake.

Living with this post-quarantine glee, it’s easy to forget, or even worse, wilfully dismiss, the facts of the matter. The UAE has seen a sudden surge of new cases due to localized outbreaks, and the past week has seen the highest daily case numbers since May. As a result, there have been suggestions to return to greater restrictions and regulate residents’ movement. Just a few weeks into the fall semester, thanks to sororities and fraternities, several US universities are quickly becoming clusters of infection, consequentially embracing restrictions and even considering shutting down. These storms may appear distant at first, but a few missteps and we could be in the eye of one.

Now is the time to recognize the collective privilege that comes with being on campus this semester. In an admirably ambitious undertaking, the campus infrastructure has been undoubtedly equipped to promote our collective wellbeing. From the low-density housing model to fortnightly interval testing, socially distanced spaces and the mildly frustrating Symptom Checker, changes are numerous and clearly visible. None of these measures are enough, however, if we flout the rules.

The Fall 2020 Student Agreement that we all signed clearly states our obligations to our peers, faculty and staff, as well as the wider Abu Dhabi community: Mask. Social Distance. Don’t host large gatherings. Get tested.

These rules and regulations are not meant to restrict, frustrate or be intentionally punitive in nature. Their compliance is the mere facade of what we owe to ourselves and this community. When you signed that student code of conduct, the wider community invested its trust in you. Don’t break that trust. It’s not a matter of principle. For some, it’s a matter of life and death.

Every time you merely reload your Symptom Checker to save a few minutes, you make a decision. Every time you make that unnecessary trip to Yas, you take a risk. Any half-decent gambler knows what the stakes are. But a little reminder wouldn’t hurt, after all, that the stakes have never been higher.

For some of our community members that are immunocompromised, your convenience and negligence can prove to be a matter of life and death. For others, it could mean having to fly back home mid-semester and spending the rest of the semester plagued by potential connectivity issues, toxic households, financial crisis and more. For all of us, it could affect our ability to move across residence halls and utilize on-campus facilities. Remember that momentary but blinding rage you felt when you thought you couldn’t enter other residence halls? A minor slip-up and that could be an inevitability.

Our recklessness and selfishness could potentially force a situation on some of our peers in which they have to abandon the safest and the most stable place they have ever come to call home. Is that who we want to be?

We must create a culture of shared accountability and restorative justice. Sooner or later, we will all make mistakes. When we do, it’s integral that we see our mistakes as opportunities to grow out of these experiences. Our responses in the moment are crucial to creating this unifying and constructive approach to collective accountability.

The other day, for instance, an intimidatingly buff senior barked at me to wear gloves at the Fitness Center. I was momentarily startled, pushed to the defensive and left searching for an excuse. That’s a natural reaction. But we must move beyond it. The excuses don’t matter. If anything, embrace being called out. Thank them for having the courage to consciously place the community’s well being over the initial awkwardness attached to the conversation. Reframe confrontations as conversations. And instead of taking to Confessions to call a person out, reach out to the individual. Approach accountability with a balance of directness, maturity and empathy.

Do you see those eight students huddled together at D2? Intervene. Someone’s not wearing a mask? Gently remind them. A friend making unnecessary trips to the city? Remind them what is at stake, for all our sakes. Your neighbour is hosting a party? Call the RA and Public Safety. And no, you aren’t being a snitch. Standing up for community health, the lives of your peers and being aware and considerate is not snitching — don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

This semester will put you in situations in which you don’t want to be. It will nudge you into conversations that feel uncomfortable, awkward and confrontational. There will be times where you will be left second guessing your own decisions and feeling paralyzed by the consequential guilt. It won’t be easy. Embrace the discomfort — it’s here to stay. Silence is complicity. This semester, we must collectively ask more of ourselves, to brave difficult conversations and situations, to consistently put others before us, to do better. We owe it to ourselves.