Living and learning from lockdown

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.