Urban Idyll

          I had put my smartphone down, absent-mindedly, then wandered off without it. Had this happened at home, I need not have taken an anxious turn when I realised it was no longer in my pocket. But I had left it on top of a bike-store outside a railway station and that is reason to be concerned. Not that the device is a top-of-the-range model that would cost a fortune to replace. The cause of my dismay was more to do with the unwanted inconvenience and potential disruption to the rest of the day. So, having dashed back more in hope than expectation, I was relieved to find it undisturbed – thanks, I am sure, to the lack of footfall due to the current situation. Thus, I experienced a strangely oblique benefit of lockdown, though there are others, less odd.

          City-centre living has long been my ideal: the buzz of humanity and the availability of everything within walking distance – including public transport for when you need to travel afar – are the essential ingredients for townies like me who seek a life sans ennui. Now, although everything is closed except for essential shops and services, many delights remain, free and out in the open. And now is the time – aided by the fair spring weather – to seek them out in the backstreets and awkward corners of the urban landscape.

          Five years ago, or thereabouts, they lifted the flagstones at the front of the municipal art gallery to plant ornamental trees, shrubs, flowers and herbs for the café. With the gates being locked these past two months, things are getting a little unkempt. I can’t quite reach through the railings to get at the herbs, but the honeysuckle is spilling over onto the pavement and its sweet scent gets blown up and down the street, filling the air more fragrantly than the usual fumes from cars or even the kitchens of adjacent Chinatown. Now that these plants are flourishing, it’s hard to remember what the forecourt used to look like – severe and formal, I suppose, as architect Charles Barry intended way back in 1823. But the garden does not spoil his vision of triumphant, classical pillars and porticoes. Rather, it enhances it, in a romantic way – as does the wild vegetation found around isolated ruins of the real Greek temples on which it is modelled. When the garden was first planted, they installed hidden speakers that played birdsong (during opening hours) and, now that the garden is mature, it supports a population of actual birds that sing regardless of human time.

          We can’t get into the gallery’s garden, but we have found other places to sit and read, or to picnic, alone or with distanced pals. There are the abandoned terraces of bars and smart restaurants, where the furniture has been left out, either obligingly or negligently in their haste to lock up and leave. Simply choose one that has an urban vista or, if you prefer, a sunny aspect and bring your own bottle. The proprietors would be furious if they knew. Then there is the University campus, a treasure trove of well-tended hidden lawns, gardens and picnic tables that nestle in between glamorous buildings, all of which are currently unused yet immaculately maintained thanks to the coffers (now rapidly depleting) of University plc. And let’s not forget the canal and riverside spots that have emerged since the clearing of the residual industrial warehouses. The new age of urban planning enlightenment has obliged even the most rapacious developers to reserve and refurbish patches of land for the use of humans and wildlife.

          But I am aware that this urban idyll will not last. The question is not when it will end, but how? Covid-19 will not be the last virus and, already, there is talk of fundamental change to our lifestyles: moving out of cities; shunning public transport; reforming our economies to more sustainable models et cetera. We city dwellers could end up living in abandoned, dysfunctional, redundant centres, with only the resurgent wildlife to keep us entertained.

Vulcan Tendency

          “It is wrong always, everywhere and for anyone to believe anything upon insufficient evidence” *. If this assertion popped up in an online survey, I would tick the “agree” box. I would then be keen to see the result of the survey though, even prior to its publication, I ‘believe’ that the majority would have ticked the “disagree” box. My evidence? Well, for a start, the fact that proven liars and science-deniers have been elected, by due democratic processes, to the governance of rich and powerful nations makes it a nonsense to conclude otherwise. Maybe I should follow my own principles and wait for the result of the imagined survey but – and this illustrates my dilemma – human behaviour is not entirely driven by logic. I may aspire to be Spock of the Starship Enterprise but, since I am not Vulcan, he is probably an inappropriate role model. And so, burdened as I am by adherence to a principle that is at odds with being Human, life can get tiresome. Whenever someone states a belief, I expect a rational explanation, only to find that the word itself is slippery, for ‘to believe’ can also mean ‘to have faith’ – a state of mind that defies logic.

          The best I can hope for is that there will be a pendulum swing of the socio-political zeitgeist, away from irrational populism and towards rational cooperation. Such a swing would need the impetus of an event that has widespread repercussions and it could be that Covid-19 serves that purpose, by leaving in its wake the turbulence required to shake us out of our collective complacency regarding the current direction of travel. Here I am thinking at the macro level, where academics, professionals and other experts are analysing the damage that has been done to society by years of neo-liberal excess. There is movement on several fronts: to re-establish the credentials of science-led governance; to reckon up the destructive effects of austerity economics; to reinvent capitalism for the common good; to address the inequalities of pay for keyworkers; and to plan for the repercussions that are about to explode as a result of climate change and the next industrial revolution. All these issues – and more – are inter-twined and inter-national. But how many people, while coping with their daily life-struggles, have the capacity to follow the arguments and act upon them? How can they be persuaded to vote rationally for jam tomorrow, when they are preoccupied with finding enough bread today, especially when the pandemic has added layers of difficulty and danger to everyday life.

          But despite the gloom and doom, there are signs that to be Human (as opposed to Vulcan, say) is not to be a basket case. Some things just cannot be explained by reason. Take the compulsion to socialise, for example. Why do we feel the need to do it? City-dwellers may have been locked in their apartments for weeks, but they have found ways to mingle-at-a-distance. In our block, where some apartments face each other across a small courtyard, the residents gather on their balconies at the cocktail hour each Friday. The event, especially as it follows Thursday evenings’ applause-for-the NHS session, is building a community where, before lockdown, each resident went their own way into the weekend. And, thanks to fine weather, minimal traffic and reduced pollution, people are beginning to take advantage of eased permissions to meet each other outdoors for takeaway coffee. Better still, there are even a couple of impromptu ‘beer gardens’ popping up in disused car parks near one or two pubs. On this evidence, we see that people are drawn together – though it’s not clear why. Perhaps they seek not the truth but something more fundamental, what Joseph Addison asserted are the “Three grand essentials to happiness in this life… something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.”

* William Kingdon Clifford, mathematician and philosopher (1845-1879).

Clutching at Straws

          Things are looking up. Yesterday, I passed two pubs that had their doors open! They were offering only takeaway pints but still, I could not resist. Of course, it’s not the real deal – sitting outside, all alone, supping ale from a vessel that resembles a cardboard soup-container – but the beer tasted good after so long and it was an quiet moment of reflection on what’s to come. If this a green shoot of economic recovery, then we had best be prepared to nurture it – without screwing up. Which is one reason why my lockdown project has been to gen up on how we came to damage so severely our own biosphere and what we can do to fix it.

          My understanding thus far can be simply stated: our biosphere is on a path to certain and irrevocable destruction. The cause is our voracious extractive industry built upon consumer demand stoked, not only by population growth, but also by the perceived need for economic growth at any cost – even that of killing the goose that lays the golden egg. So, now I have an idea of the depth of the hole we’re in, I need to know how we can climb out of it. On first reckoning, the task is daunting. It seems that everywhere I look, powerful forces are working to hasten the demise of the planet in the interests of accumulating as much wealth as possible into the hands of a few individuals. This is true of western democratic nations, which are fast reverting to their plutocratic origins. It is true of nations that are already ruled by autocrats and dictators. And it is true of one-party states that brook no criticism of their ideologies, regardless of the consequences. Therefore, as I sup my pint, I am wary of the end of lockdown becoming a race to return to business as usual, especially a la Trump, for where the USA leads, the current UK government looks set to follow.

          Of course, the phrase “nothing will ever be the same” resonates in the light of the devastation caused by the pandemic but, unless we act, some things will remain the same: the despoliation of the planet by wealth-accumulating elites being one of them. But we who want change are neither hopeless nor helpless. The pandemic has put much of our economic activity on hold, thereby presenting an unsolicited opportunity to question the wisdom of continuing headlong down a path to destruction. The viability of working from home, the true value of keyworkers and the importance of nurturing a healthy population are just a few of the hot topics that can be made to stick if we shout loud enough. And there are influential individuals, corporations, politicians and NGOs who have been working for years to gather evidence and press the case for rebalancing power and wealth away from elites and towards the population at large. In his book The Third Pillar, Raghuram Rajan makes the case for reforming capitalism for the benefit of society as a whole. In her book Reimagining Capitalism: How Business Can Save the World, Rebecca Henderson cites many examples of successful alternative approaches to profit-making that strengthen the case for incorporating sustainability into every business. Their voices, added to others in influential positions, could yet lead to timely reforms.

          Yesterday, my favourite coffee shop also re-opened (takeaway only) and I hot-footed down there for my fix. There was a queue of construction workers not normally found outside this pricey artisan joint but, with the adjacent Greggs, Costa and Starbucks all remaining shuttered, they had no alternative – (except to bring their own thermos flasks). Even so, there was no grumbling. Perhaps, like me, they were relieved to see a glimmer of business as usual, on this level at least.

Catch-Up Time

          What’s missing in lockdown is the sense of urgency that seemed to prevail in the days before. There are still things to be done, but thoughtfulness and sustainability have crept up the agenda, bringing with them a more meditative approach. If I were to choose some background music right now, it would be the relaxed tempo of laid-back bossa nova. It feels as though time has lengthened and, in a way, it has: since we can’t go out socialising, we have gained a time bonus, some of which I use to catch up on gaps in my cultural intake, like seminal films that I did not see when released. I settled in to watch one such, Celine and Julie Go Boating, a 1974 French ‘classic’ by Jacques Rivette. But, because it is more than three hours long and little by way of plot to get hooked on, it took me three consecutive evenings to get through it. The actual boating happens right at the end, by which time I no longer cared whether they sank or swam, but perhaps that was the director’s existentialist message.

          Even exercising has an unhurried quality. No more dashing to the gym for a quick aerobic fix. Now it’s a leisurely walk. Last Sunday, I was strolling through a large park, when I came across an abundance of flowering wild garlic. The smell always stimulates the taste buds and, normally, I would consider harvesting some (food-for-free!) but then walk on thinking “next time”. But, on this occasion, I paused to consult the phone for recipes, gathered a bunch to take home and, that evening, hey presto! Pesto!

          Of course, there is no such bounty to be found on my normal routes through the city streets and around the small reserves of cultivated garden, where only token patches of grass are sown with wildflowers for the insects. But there is plenty to contemplate otherwise: most visibly, the effects of the pandemic on the economy – in particular, the hospitality sector. Restaurants, cafés and bars have all closed, but with varying degrees of determination. The most depressing sight is of windows boarded-up, as if in anticipation of the worst outcome – economic disaster and civil unrest, with looting mobs rampaging through the streets. Next to those are the hastily abandoned places, with dying potted palms in the window and furniture pushed randomly about. They look as though their distraught owners walked out with no intention of returning. But there are other establishments where optimism is reflected in clean windows and hopefully set tables gleaming with glass and cutlery. The full range of anticipated outcomes, from despairing pessimism to irrepressible optimism can be found in just one street.

          I have even found time to tinker with a bike that a departing resident had ‘gifted’ the block by leaving it in the hall. I last owned a bike when I was twelve and have rarely ridden one since, but I was tempted to vary my exercise regime by giving cycling another try, especially as the roads are no longer hazardous with  masses of marauding motors. I rode the bike around one of my walking routes and was surprised by the speed with which I arrived at the familiar marker points along the way. It was all over so quickly that I didn’t know what to do with the extra time, except lie down and recover from what I deemed to be a mild case of bike-lag. I don’t anticipate taking up cycling for its own sake – not that it’s an unpleasant experience but, for a man who is not in a hurry, shanks’ pony will do just fine. Besides, walking is more conducive to contemplation and has led me to reflect on the nature of existentialism. If Jacques had titled his film Celine and Julie Get Up to All Sorts and Then Go Boating, I would have sussed it straight away.

Not Just a Pain In the Neck

          Millions of people are experiencing financial, emotional and physical hardship under lockdown, whereas many are not. And, while sympathetic to the plight of the former, I am fortunate (to the point of feeling guilty) to be among the latter. Mind you, not everything at Wonderman Towers is tickety-boo: I have just spent several uncomfortable days in the throes of neck pain, a condition that takes the edge off pleasurable pursuits and emphasises the pertinence of the saying “pain in the neck” when describing a persistent, low-level nuisance. A visit to the physiotherapist was out of the question, so I resorted to my copy of Andrew Ferguson’s Back and Neck Pain: A Complete Plan for Self-Diagnosis and Treatment. Self-reliance is once more the order of the day and I now have the problem under control. The neck pain, it turns out, was a symptom of muscular turbulence elsewhere in the torso. Everything is connected.

          And I mean everything – though, when you look at subjects in isolation, this fact can be obscured by specialisation. Consider the British Library’s Sound Archive, which contains millions of items that must be digitised if they are to be saved from decay or technological obsolescence. Why bother? Because sound recordings are a recent but precious connection to human history and, in some cases, Earth’s biosphere. One such recording is that of a now extinct Hawaiian songbird last heard in 1987 singing for its mate who died the previous year. In light of this, it is unsurprising that the curator refused the shameless request of a hunter who asked for a copy of the mating call of an African big-game species so that he could use it to lure others of its kind. Other, dedicated specialists operate under the radar of everyday busyness, e.g. the British Dragonfly Society, complete with a network of County Recorders, whose aim is to support research into and aid conservation of dragonflies and their habitats. They know that you can’t do one without the other!

          The Gaia Theorem has come to haunt me. Everything I consider now seems linked to, caused by or affected by something else, no matter how apparently remote. The migration of newscasters and commentators from TV studios to home studios, many hastily improvised, led me to muse on whether there would be a consequence, as in future homes being built with provision for home working as standard. Something like this, apparently, happened in 1950s America, when TV ownership exploded. Stay-at-home housewives were the norm and they wanted to watch TV while working in the kitchen, but the sets were too big and expensive to install, except in the lounge. So, enterprising builders adapted their designs and open-plan living was born.

          Of course, American homes are bigger than most but, for those who have the luxury of a home office and the time to cogitate within it, lockdown is an opportunity to consider how we can learn to manage the whole complex business of cause and effect. Covid-19 is in-your-face proof that everything is connected. The worldwide pandemic mocks the isolationist, nationalist and protectionist nonsense of populist demagogues. Yes, their strict border controls might hinder the spread of viruses, but they would also impede the international co-operation that is necessary to tackle and rectify the causes of this and other worldwide problems. The scientific research for a vaccine is international and access to the product must be universal if it is to be fully effective. The PPE that is made abroad is required everywhere. China’s economy depends on the health and prosperity of its customers – aka the rest of the world. America’s population depends on China to supply that which it no longer manufactures... and so on. I think it’s time for the Gaia Theorem to graduate with honours.