LONDON, U.K. -- Hello again. Now, where did we leave off?
Right! At the end of the first lockdown, which felt like coming out of forced hibernation. Winter was over, the earth was warming; the coronavirus appeared beaten back. It was no longer against the law in England to sun bathe in the park.
Everybody went on holidays, in a short-lived, liberating escape after months of brooding over our collective doom.
When we talk about neutralizing antibody responses, we say it's quite remarkable, especially when we compare with a subject that recovered from the disease."
It was exhilarating, even as millions of Europeans watched their vacation curtain close and the number of infections start to rise alarmingly again.
They rushed home only to be scolded by pandemic experts for having had too much summer fun.
And now we’ve been delivered into national lockdown number 2, which feels nothing like lockdown number 1, though the warnings of rampant infection, rising death rates and overworked hospitals have been just as dire.
It’s very depressing for those of us who haven’t been inside a pub, a restaurant, a supermarket, or somebody else’s house since last March. I have no more lockdown to give.
Here’s the big difference between then and now: the fear is gone. During the first lockdown, we were all left terrified of either dying or, killing others. The warnings were delivered with all the menacing power Boris Johnson and his government could muster: Stay Home to Save Lives.
Every parcel, every delivery, every item of groceries that came into our house was wiped down with disinfectant before it could be handled. That seems foolish now, orchestrated by a campaign of fear rather than solid scientific guidance.
“The trouble is, fear wears off,” says Nick Chater, who’s a professor of behavioural science at Warwick Business School. And he’s right.
I can feel the fear wearing off, and you can certainly see it wearing off. Go for a walk in a London park and count the number of people wearing masks, or gathering in groups. It feels like defiance.
The second lockdown doesn’t look like a lockdown either and maybe that’s why the scientists are dubious it will bring the infection rate down.
Pubs and restaurants are closed, but many are still selling take-away food and booze, which often gets consumed on the street. Chocolate and stationery shops still appear to be open. What’s essential about chocolate?
When the British Prime Minister has only reluctantly embraced the need for a second lockdown, how you can you expect the country to get in line?
It would be a “disaster,” said Boris Johnson, nothing less than the “nuclear option.” And yet here we are for another month. Hotels and guesthouses closed; no travelling between regions, yet schools, factories and construction sites remain open.
Half in, half out.
The real obsession, more political than medical, seems to be Christmas, a gigantic fear that millions of British families will not be able to celebrate the holiday together. It’s not about missing turkey and stuffing, it’s about the political backlash for a prime minister who’s already suffering a loss of popularity.
His goal now is for a Christmas that as “close to normal as possible.” Whatever normal means anymore.
