It seems frivolous to point out how unrecognisable the world was 10 months ago. Italy was entering into lockdown; the World Health Organisation declared Covid-19 had reached pandemic stage; Leo Varadkar had closed schools and St Patrick’s Day celebrations were cancelled.
Meanwhile, the UK government made a curious decision: culture secretary Oliver Dowden – accompanied by Boris Johnson’s unique brand of gung-ho enthusiasm – claimed there was no good reason to call off the Cheltenham racing festival.
The decision has become emblematic of the UK’s early response to the pandemic, often characterised as too little too late. The UK’s infection rates soared as Johnson prevaricated and delayed imposing a nationwide lockdown. The choice was no doubt a product of Johnson’s inclination to champion civil liberties above all else; high off the back of a seismic electoral victory; and imbued with confidence that 2020 would finally be the year Britain could embark on the grand project of Brexit.
The psychological impulse to travel home for Christmas seems to come from a similar place to those who attended Cheltenham in March
But, ultimately, attempts to carry on “business as usual” were thwarted by rising case numbers and by the healthcare system being pushed to its limits. And the realisation fast dawned that the UK was increasingly out of step with its European neighbours; with Covid-19 largely uninterested in Johnson’s new cohort of energised backbenchers. In hindsight the decision to go ahead with Cheltenham – with 60,000 punters descending on the town – seems like a patent insanity.
Though there was no shortage of raised eyebrows at the time. Simon Coveney commented that Cheltenham wouldn’t have gone ahead were it held in Ireland.
And though the exact scale and quality of the impacts were difficult to predict, it was hard to shake the sense of foreboding many observers had at Cheltenham: that this was an epidemiological car crash unfolding in slow motion; that embracing Johnson’s “show must go on” mentality would have dire consequences; and that the virus was unlikely to kowtow to Johnson’s majority in the House of Commons.
Predictable impact
The context has changed since then. But as Christmas approaches, that familiar sense of foreboding has returned. As governments ease restrictions – to varying degrees across the British Isles – it is once again hard to avoid the obvious conclusion that we are about to witness a public-health disaster in real time; with predictable and direct impacts as we head into the new year.
The psychological impulse to travel home for Christmas seems to come from a similar place to those who attended Cheltenham in March. So long as our politicians tell us it is okay – though not without its risks – who are we to say they are wrong?
It seems governments – by relaxing rules – are fastening themselves a festive Gordian knot. We can assert with some confidence that allowing households to mix indoors will cause a spike in infections; there will be subsequent pressure on health services; and the likelihood of further lockdowns in early 2021.
And when the inevitable happens – with the situation in January and February looking bleak – the public response is not hard to guess: “You told us we could do this. You eased restrictions!” And all of a sudden, the government has to handle not only the knock-on effects of increased infection rates but also the likely outrage of the electorate claiming any sort of easing was irresponsible in the first place. The electorate may be poor at gratitude, but it is excellent at doling out blame.
Social cohesion
On the other hand, if a government offers no type of easing, keeping families separate and allowing many to spend Christmas alone, it faces a different problem.
Either it deals with people simply refusing to adhere to existing rules, thereby undermining social cohesion and causing further problems for managing public behaviour in the future, or it deals with the inevitable accusation that it is run by overzealous, Grinch-like scientists who care little for the overall wellbeing of families who have suffered a difficult year.
It is an unenviable position. But the Christmas dilemma has thrust both governments and families in between a rock and a hard place. Families who have been apart for so long want to be together, not least at such a testing time. And this is not an impulse for anyone to criticise. Nor, when cases spike in the new year, ought blame be apportioned to the public.
But so too is it a politically impossible question for governments. It is all well and good to ask why Johnson doesn’t seem to have heeded the lessons of Cheltenham – that loose restrictions increase infection rates and serve as fodder for public outrage down the line – but the context of Christmas is a different one. What is the function of a government if it cannot facilitate some kind of normalcy now?
None of this changes the troubling reality we face. Families need to make difficult decisions, weighing up personal responsibility and individual risk. Meanwhile, it is hard to see any route out of this dilemma for governments that is not an incredibly rocky one.