Thank You, Aneurin Bevan

          Earlier this week I happened to be at a local hospital, the one at which, on 5^th July 1948, Aneurin Bevan inaugurated the NHS. There, in the half-empty car park, stood a temporary Covid-19 testing station not in operation, which surprised me considering the extent to which coronavirus is raging. But the disease has spread quickly since then and a long queue may well be forming right now.

          That same evening, I was out with a friend for drinks and supper at a couple of pubs (we had decided that the risk was minimal). There were no crowds, but then it was a Monday, so the situation seemed normal. We finished up at a tiny pub where we got talking to the landlord and his regular drinking buddies, one of whom said, on leaving, that he would not be coming back until the virus was gone. It seemed overly dramatic at the time but, since that night, pubs, bars and restaurants have been obliged to close their doors to customers. Indeed, being out in the city streets today one feels like an extra on the film set of a disaster movie. We have all seen images of deserted foreign cities but how sympathetically have we reacted to the plight of their inhabitants, people to whom we are not close? Perhaps, by experiencing the same at home, we might, at last, feel a degree of empathy, if only fleetingly.

          One morning, despite mounting pressure exemplified by the impending compulsory closure of schools, I ventured out to a normally buzzing coffee shop. There were just two other customers. The staff were at pains to assure us that hygiene was strict – they were no longer handling keep-cups and had placed sanitizer on the counter for customers’ use – and, since they had nothing much else to distract them, the coffee they made was excellent. However, it didn’t go down with much relish for all that. What spoilt it was the feeling that we might all be acting selfishly by taking the risk, however small, of spreading the virus. Which raised a couple of questions: is it wise to allow unqualified individuals, however well-informed, to assess such a risk for themselves? Should we leave it instead to government dictat and, if so, would that incur other kinds of risk – such as being manipulated by self-serving regimes and allowing the responsibility for our actions to be removed from us as part of a stealthy erosion of our civil liberties? And, finally, was I over-thinking my coffee break? Still, left to their own devices, people’s judgement is influenced by factors such as fear, ignorance and selfishness on the one hand as well as knowledge, practicality and philanthropy on the other. For example, the proprietor of a local convenience store is asking an extortionate price for sanitizer, whereas some brewers and distillers have switched production to making sanitizer, which they are distributing free to those in need.

          In times of crisis, such as this, populations look to their authorities for planned and controlled solutions, not suggestions. This is when so-called ‘big government’ should come into its own, with its public resources ready to meet the challenge. However, the hollowing out of institutions by advocates of ‘small government’, like the Republicans in the US and the Conservatives in the UK, can leave states inadequately equipped to protect their citizens from disasters, while the private sectors they foster remain well placed to profit from the provision of solutions only to those who can afford them. It’s been 72 years since the NHS was founded, which is surely long enough for any government of a supposedly civilised society to admit that it is the best, if not the only way, to ensure the welfare of all its citizens.