Though trust in the Government’s Coronavirus measures is falling, along with willingness to adhere to rules that seem detached from either science or common sense, the majority of us still accept them, more or less. Well over half of us have changed our behaviour to reduce the spread of infection, washing our hands more, wearing masks and avoiding crowded places. Two thirds of Britons surveyed in November 2020 said they’d support a third national lockdown after Christmas if cases remained high. And, yesterday, a YouGov poll indicated that 65% of people think face coverings should be made compulsory in busy outdoor areas.
We must take these survey answers with a health-advice-breaking pinch of salt. Another survey said three quarters of us expected that most people would break restrictions to see people over Christmas, though of course only a quarter said they planned to do so themselves. In practice, many people use common sense when applying the rules to their own lives, making their own judgments about acceptable risks. But the principle that society must change around the limitations of the NHS, and not vice versa, is now entrenched in public discourse.
What happens when risks from Coronavirus become comparable to flu, and other seasonal respiratory illnesses? The 2014/5 winter was the worst since 2000 for excess winter deaths, which peaked at 15,000 per week in January 2015. The public was encouraged to take up influenza vaccines, and to wash hands and catch coughs and sneezes. No question of working from home, closing pubs and theatres, let alone sports stadiums or swimming pools.
Instead of strategies to reduce risk while keeping society running as much as possible, we responded to Coronavirus as if it were an existential threat, in whose teeth any measure was justified. When vaccines beat it back to a nasty disease like so many others that lie in wait for the vulnerable, will we know how to weigh risks to individual lives against the danger to public life?
I fear that, having once been sacrificed on the altar of the NHS and its limited capacity, our freedoms are no longer safe from the utilitarian knife. The same people telling us to shop alone, drink alone, and be in bed by eleven, to save lives from Coronavirus, will continue to make the same arguments over lesser risks.
If we accept pubs serving no alcohol, or alcohol only with a meal, or closing at ten, on the shaky ground that it reduces the spread of a virus, why not accept similar measures to take the strain of drunkenness off A&E departments every weekend? It can’t be coincidence that those rules fit so well with public health campaigners’ longstanding desire to wean us off our boozy nights out.
If we accept mandatory masks for Coronavirus, why not keep the rules for every flu season? And if masks, why not socially distanced theatres, reduced public transport capacity and more working from home? Once we have accepted that it’s our job to reduce demand on the NHS by limiting our lives, where will it end?
So the reason for drunken swearing behind my mask on that train home was not that I mind wearing a mask all that much. I wear a helmet for motorcycling, I take off my shoes for airport security, and if I have the flu I avoid friends on chemotherapy. Masks aren’t that big a deal.
But I want life to go back to normal. I want to meet people indoors, to laugh and drink, and watch performances, and take part in public meetings. I want to go into other people’s homes and have them come into mine. Lord knows, it’s the only thing that makes me get the vacuum cleaner out. And I don’t want to live another 50 years if I’m not allowed to hug anybody.
So once you’ve stuck that vaccine in the arms of the highest risk groups, you can take your 18 more months of social distancing, and stick them somewhere else.
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