At the weekend, Boris made his most depressing announcements
so far, putting swathes of the south-east of England into a new tier four,
telling them they must not mix with anyone beyond their own households over
Christmas whilst telling the rest of us we could spend just Christmas Day with
loved ones, rather than the five days he’d previously said he would allow
us. It was his response to the news that
a mutated version of coronavirus is now doing the rounds in the south-east,
wreaking havoc with up to 70% greater transmissibility than mark one, causing
infection rates to spike there once again.
So far, Bournemouth (my home) and the south-west remains in tier two.
It’s no secret that I resent all the rules (I’ve written
about it before). The Prime Minister’s
previous announcement of his five-day festive window for up to three households
to form a celebratory bubble left me fuming.
It’s not the government’s place to tell people who they can and can not
see or to interfere in Christmas plans.
Neither is it really its job to protect us all from a virus and prevent
us from dying; it doesn’t go to such extreme lengths to prevent deaths from
other illnesses from seasonal flu to HIV, and many of us would be outraged if
it did. It’s the responsibility of each
of us to listen to wise advice, assess the risks to ourselves, show respect for
others and behave sensibly.
When governments step in, they diminish people’s sense of
personal responsibility and they fuel mistrust in others. I can’t abide the view I’ve heard time and
again – sometimes laced with barely-disguised racism – that restrictions are
justified because certain people can’t be trusted to behave responsibly. Foolishly, ministers also lay pretty huge
traps for themselves. They tie
themselves in knots with rules that become more and more confusing as they keep
changing and that can not be enforced, and there’s anger on social media. Consequently, some demand clarification and
yet more restrictions or even another punishing lockdown with all its
devastating implications, whilst others become more resentful and increasingly
ignore the rules.
‘Damned if they do and damned if they don’t,’ say the
commentators, which may be true, but ultimately, when politicians declare that
no level of deaths is acceptable, they mislead people, unreasonably raise
expectations and doom themselves to failure.
It’s also patently untrue: tragically, nearly seventy thousand people
have now died in Britain, yet no-one is protesting or rioting. Despite what Boris and his government think,
we are mature enough to accept the grim reality of a pandemic.
Perhaps the strongest argument for any restrictions is the
protection of the NHS – to avoid it being overwhelmed by Covid patients
requiring hospital treatment.
Politically, it’s a difficult case for Boris and his government to make,
however, lest it imply their own neglect of the health service. Moreover, it risks raising our expectations
of a health service that is already vulnerable and could never fully cope with
a pandemic on this scale.
Mine is a controversial point of view, I know, but it’s not
one I hold without sympathy for anyone who has suffered or is suffering with
Covid, for anyone who has lost someone dear to them or for anyone who is now
trapped alone. There is an inevitability
to death during a global pandemic but of course, every loss is an awful tragedy
to those who are bereaved.
I don’t believe I’m being naïve or reckless either. I know the risks I take; importantly, so do
the people with whom I spend any time; and I completely respect anyone’s choice
to not see me. I take sensible
precautions, continuing to respect social distance, limiting the numbers of
people I see, meeting others outdoors, wearing my mask and washing my hands. Above all, I am grateful for my good fortune
(so far, at least) in living in a part of the country that has fared better
than most, at avoiding the virus and staying well and healthy.
I’m now in Devon, at my mum and dad’s, where I’ll spend most
of the next week and be joined by my uncle for Christmas Day. I had no expectations when I spoke to them
after Boris changed the Christmas rules.
We agreed though that fortunately, we’re all in good health and none of
us is especially vulnerable. My uncle
and I both travel from single-person households and not from multi-person
households so arguably, we’re at less risk than much larger three-household
bubbles. We won’t see anyone else. And none of us really understands how there
would be less risk in us getting together for just one day instead of a few
more. We’re responsible grown-ups; we
know our circumstances, we know the risks and we’ll take care of ourselves and
each other.
No-one is having a particularly joyous Christmas. Even with the company of family, surrounded
by sparkling decorations and looking forward to a traditional feast, Covid feels
close at hand, I’m aware of friends, family and others spending Christmas alone
or bereaved, sad and fearful, and there’s a flatness to this festive
season. I am deeply sorry for anyone who
can not enjoy the Christmas they hoped for but hope no-one will resent those of
us like me doing the best we can, even if we are breaking the rules.
After the year we’ve all endured, can anyone really be
blamed for finding whatever merriness they can in this Christmas?
