“We’re all in this together.”

Of all the insulting, disturbing pieces of propaganda to emerge from the coronavirus pandemic, this has to rank near the top.

It’s become a mantra of sorts, parroted alongside the ever popular “this virus doesn’t discriminate.”

“We’re all in this together” isn’t a rallying cry. It’s a means of control disguised as a soothing balm. It’s false reassurance that urges us to follow bad advice, like not wearing masks, and distracts us from the harsh reality: This pandemic is making the health and economic gaps between us grow wider, not narrower.

The person who says, with a plastered-on smile, “We’re all in this together” doesn’t give you a choice. He’s not pressuring or shaming you into conformity, he’s outright assuming it. You’re already “in this.” You can’t decide you don’t want any part of it because, we’re told, the virus doesn’t discriminate, and we’re all in the same boat.

But, in fact, the opposite is true. The virus does discriminate. And, worse, so do we.

The virus discriminates by affecting people with chronic health conditions more than those without them. It discriminates by hitting the elderly far harder than the young. Some geographic regions are harder hit. There’s even research that suggests people with certain blood types are more susceptible. Long story short: We are most certainly not in this together, even from the virus’ perspective.

And we make things worse by discriminating ourselves, as a society. Some people are being forced to choose between their health and their livelihoods, while others are not. The laid-off blue-collar worker who struggles to keep the heat on while self-isolating in a studio apartment is not “in this together” with the independently wealthy jet-setter who doesn’t have to work and can hole up in a six-bedroom, 3.5-bath McMansion.

“We’re all in this together” creates a false sense of buy-in, urging us to ignore the fact that this pandemic affects individuals very differently. In fact, the pandemic has become an excuse to spew propaganda aimed at brushing other forms of suffering under the rug. If “we’re all in this together,” suddenly no one has a right to complain if they can’t afford the rent or can’t find the money to feed their family, because the virus becomes the only valid concern.

“Be thankful you don’t have the virus,” is the unspoken (and sometimes spoken) rejoinder. “If celebrities and politicians are getting it, you’re the lucky one. What do you have to gripe about?”

Yes, some celebrities have gotten sick. Some have died. But these deaths get reported. Meanwhile, thousands of non-celebrities die in anonymity and are left as faceless statistics, except to the few who know and love them. The news reports celebrity deaths, with faces and biographies. Everyone else is just a number. Clinical and impersonal. So it seems like celebrities are being hit as hard (or harder) than everyone else, when in fact, the opposite is true.

Here’s the thing: People at the lower end of the economic spectrum — those non-celebrities whose names are never mentioned — are 10 percent likelier to suffer from a chronic health condition than anyone else. And they’re less likely to seek treatment for it, because they can’t afford it. Without that care, chronic health problems get worse. And remember: People with chronic health problems are being hit harder by COVID-19.

Some workers have paid sick leave, others — generally those in low-paying jobs — don’t. NBA players earning millions a year got tested for the virus quickly, even if they showed no symptoms, while ordinary factory workers, schoolteachers and truck drivers who were obviously sick had to wait.

If you think “we’re all in this together,” think again. We’re not. In the midst of the virus, no one’s talking about the wealth gap or the individual cost of health care anymore, but that doesn’t mean those problems have gone away. The virus has actually made them worse. We’re even less “in this together” than we were before. Far from being the great equalizer, the pandemic has widened the chasm between the haves and have nots that had been growing on its own for decades, and now that same pandemic has become an excuse to ignore it.

Under the false premise that “we’re all in this together.”

That’s like saying plantation owners and slaves were “all in this together” because both were part of the same cruel and dysfunctional economic system in the antebellum South. Or saying the worker who earns minimum wage and company executives who earn millions are “all in this together” because the same firm supports them both. Yet the worker can get laid off at the drop of a hat, while the fired executive gets a cushy buyout and, probably, another gig when some headhunter comes calling.

Yes, the virus discriminates, and yes, so do we. We can stop both kinds of discrimination by focusing on protecting our most vulnerable — to the disease and to economic hardship. In many cases, they’re the same people. But if we continue to turn a blind eye because we believe the false narrative that everyone’s in the same boat, more and more life rafts will keep sinking. And all the while, the privileged few keep will keep sailing blithely along in their luxury yachts, oblivious to the storm that’s wrecking everything around them.