When the lockdown began, as the government instructed
people to stay indoors but for fleeting occasions, the prospect of dark empty
streets was somewhat unnerving.
It may have been a natural middle-class reaction,
thinking that while I’d carefully obey instructions only the reckless and
dangerous would flout such restrictions, given that the threat to our health comes in the shape of something as
intangible as an invisible virus.
Fears of societal disintegration, as in Golding’s Lord of the Flies came to mind; or would the dystopian chaos of Cuaron’s
Children of Men or even Mad Max – with marauding gangs of eco-warriors, freedom
fighters and bounty hunters – be made flesh by the Covid-19 crisis?
Any such fears were not just misplaced, but wholly
nonsensical of course. But, perhaps something more remarkable has occurred. Far
from creaking and failing around us, social structures and the strengths of communities
– at least from this corner of south east London – appear remarkably
resilient.
The most obvious signal of this coherence is the week’s social
highlight when neighbours emerge from their houses to clap the NHS each
Thursday evening. It’s clearly not just our streets, the noise echoes all
around. Indeed, every week, someone is, hopefully safely, setting off fireworks
to celebrate the efforts of doctors and nurses. Despite my reticence towards
such publicly emotional displays, it’s impossible not to be moved and get
involved.
Support groups have spontaneously appeared in every community,
offering the elderly and vulnerable support. Within minutes of signing up for
one on behalf of some relatives who live elsewhere, we were inundated with messages offering to
help with shopping, deliveries and other assistance from complete strangers.
This perspective, however, inevitably comes from
something of a position of privilege. Our two daughters are young enough for
their school absence not to be significantly detrimental. They have a garden in
which to run around and we have secured relatively safe and secure ways of
getting enough food. We are working from home and it is a tight squeeze; but we
are still working. As far as the girls are concerned, they
can still construe these weeks – in the sunshine, with Spring emerging, with
a smattering of school working continuing but not overwhelming and access to wider family and
friends available via social media – almost as a holiday. It’s a time that may
long linger in their memory with a fondness.
How one copes during the lockdown is a measure of
entitlement. Less than a stone’s throw from my house, there are flats where the
occupants have no garden at all, where venturing into the spring sunshine for
anything other than exercise or dog walking risks at least a reprimand from the
police. Unless one is living under such circumstances it is very hard to truly
imagine how hard such conditions are.
Labour MP Karen Buck has regularly posted about the
domestic challenges some of her constituents are facing. Just today she wrote
about an appeal to her from an NHS hospital worker living in a one bad flat
with her husband and three children
‘She can’t self isolate, she’s terrified for her family
and it’s impacting on her mental health’.
It isn’t the fault of any cabinet minister that they may
have more than one comfortable home and garden but instructing people such as
those above, who are in such tight circumstances, to remain indoors, must be exasperating
and angering.
At times police have appeared heavy-handed in their
handling of the lockdown rules but they are learning how to operate in a
strange new world as are we all. But we
haven’t seen great confrontations between the authorities and anti-lockdown
protesters, as has been seen in the United States and Paris. The country has
taken to the grim challenge with perhaps surprising success.
It’s all the more imperative, then, to make the effort to
recognise how exceptionally difficult life is for many at the moment; and to sympathise
– even if we cannot truly empathise – with those whose lives have been thrown
into chaos, confusion and desperation.
We must really work hard to ensure that, when these exceptionally strange
times are over, we remember who kept our lives going, which roles are ‘key’,
which workers underpin our sense of community and who are the most vulnerable
people in our society. Where would we be without doctors, nurses, healthcare assistants, carers, volunteers, transport workers, shop workers, rubbish collectors, delivery couriers? Our democracy is
only as good as the lives of those who have not got sharp elbows, or a house
and garden, or a supportive family, and who may not always be able to look
after themselves.
