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.

Shop Talk

          At our local Tesco, there is a kind, attentive lady whose job it is to assist customers at the self-checkout. She has rescued me many times and, over the years, we have developed a friendly relationship that manifests itself in banal chit-chat. Once, I introduced her to my partner – who must have made quite an impression because, since then, she will sometimes enquire after her. “And how’s your good lady?” she will say. “Oh, fine. She’s loafing around at home, while I’m sent out to the shops,” I might reply. But events of the past few weeks have left the checkout lady increasingly fraught. It was never going to be easy for her to keep the regulation physical distance from customers. They marked spaces on the floor and put signs up everywhere; then they installed screens around the checkouts; and all the while she was increasingly apologetic for the inconvenience. Finally, they gave her a face-visor, behind which she looked quite mournful. “I’m not happy about it,” she said (lifting it to talk to me). “It doesn’t feel right.”

          This is the new normal – social and economic carnage. However, there are chances to enjoy unusual, even unique, moments in the midst of it. I experienced one yesterday, sitting, almost alone, in a city plaza bathed in sunshine, strewn with fallen blossom and quiet but for the mellow sound of a lone saxophonist blowing melancholy jazz. The music echoed around the buildings, interrupted only by the passing trams, empty but for their drivers. Ghost trams. The musician told me that the police had asked him to move on, lest he draw a crowd. But a passer-by had protested, saying that his music was a tonic, not a threat. Besides, jazz doesn’t draw crowds. She won her argument: it was the police who moved on.

          On my daily walks, the unnatural quiet of the streets draws attention to things that are otherwise unremarkable – like a seeming proliferation of roadworks, for example. Is the council taking advantage of the absence of traffic to bring forward its programme of repairs, or is the activity simply more noticeable than it would be under ‘normal’ traffic conditions? Whatever the answer, it is a good time to be fixing those potholes. One day, I encountered a friend who, like me, was out for his walk. We had our conversation across two metres of paving and he reminded me that it had been six weeks since we had been more comfortably situated, in a pub. It feels as if that was another era, for which I expressed a wistful longing. He recommended a couple of online beer suppliers but, you know, it’s not the same. Supping beer, alone, at home, is even more joyless than the solo, DIY coffee experience to which I am reduced these days.

          It’s those personal interactions, profound or otherwise, that are the missing ingredient in daily life. They make us feel we belong to society, that we have a place in which we feel comfortable, people to whom we can relate. A big chunk of that has disappeared. The few people you pass in the street avoid eye-contact as well as physical proximity. And facemasks conceal any subtle attempts to smile or look kindly on someone. The chances of having a casual conversation with anyone other than a shop worker are few and far between. But not everyone is down and out. I overheard a supermarket conversation that reassured me that there is humour in adversity. The man in front of me said to the cashier, “How are you? I haven’t seen you for a while.” “I’m fine,” replied the cashier, “I’ve just had a week off.” “Good for you. Did you go anywhere nice?” said the man, grinning.

The Real News

          There’s a bloke who, somewhat eccentrically, cycles slowly and continuously round town playing music, loudly, from a large, lo-fi boombox strapped to his back. Now that there is no traffic noise, he can be heard approaching from several streets away. Lockdown has not deterred him, nor does he seem to mind the lack of an audience – which puts paid to my theory that the motive for his activity is to annoy people. But then lockdown is proving to be an other-worldly dimension, where the accepted state of affairs is re-ordered, re-prioritised or called into question altogether.

          I count myself fortunate not to be in a position whereby staying at home is any kind of hardship. I know this is not the case for millions of people around the world, which is just one of the issues that I have more time to contemplate now that the clutter of life outside has been pared down to essentials. Things are quiet – too quiet. In fact, after waking in the night and imagining myself completely alone on the planet, I was glad to hear the sound in the morning of roadworks starting up outside the window.

          Searching the media for news of anything other than the covid-19 pandemic, I am struck by the fact that all things are connected with it though some, nevertheless, appear to have an upside. For example, residents in the Lancashire village of Cartmel can now get a £5 takeaway meal from the Michelin-starred restaurant at its centre, the chefs having no other work to do. And there is a Bavarian-based distributor of sex toys who, in the first week of lockdown, reported a sharp rise in orders, including a 3,000% increase in demand for fetish nurse uniforms. Cruel irony? Based on this news alone, it seems likely that we can expect another generation of baby boomers that will, one day, rebalance the aging demography of the rich nations. Then there are some items that are puzzling: for instance, the government’s plea specifically to video-gamers to stay at home. I had always assumed they were already the stay-at-home bedrock of the take-away pizza industry.

          But behind all the news items, whatever the source and regardless of the subject, there lurks one over-arching issue: geopolitics. The most obvious example of this comes from the most obvious source – President Trump – who, in his anxiety to deflect his critics’ attention from his own blasé handling of the pandemic, seeks to blame the Chinese government, the WHO or any other party that he thinks he might successfully rally his supporters to condemn. His motive? To ensure that he gets re-elected. And if he does get re-elected, the world will be in even worse shape to resist the next global pandemic. In his book, America: The Farewell Tour, Chris Hedges explains why. Donald Trump’s mission is to do the bidding of America’s monopolising corporations, whose appetite for profit is insatiable and whose disregard for the public good in the quest for that profit is unconscionable. Unrestrained capitalism has left America with relatively few publicly owned facilities, an expensive, profit-motivated health-care system that is beyond the means of millions of its citizens and a military establishment bloated out of all proportion to the purpose of national defence. The more Trump blusters, the more it becomes evident that the covid-19 pandemic, in exposing the weaknesses, is also exposing to view the excesses of the economic system over which he presides.

          It is the pandemic that makes the headlines but, if you look critically, the overstory is this: the present trend of capitalism, whereby all resources become privately owned by an ever-concentrating elite, is a route back to the impoverishment and servitude of the masses, last seen in the middle ages, when eccentrics were burned as witches.

All Change, Please!

          There are very few cars parked on the street in town these days so, seeing a line of four fancy models, each with a document displayed on the dashboard, made me curious. The document turned out to be a letter from a local stockbroking firm addressed “to whom it may concern” and stating that the cars belong to “keyworkers in the financial sector”. It was displayed, apparently, in lieu of a parking ticket. Merchant bankers, it seems, have not learned restraint from their 2008 debacle: in the midst of a viral pandemic they seek even small ways to profit. In our contemplation of the end of ‘lockdown’, the last thing we should be considering is a return to “business as usual”, a discredited system that, once again, stands exposed as being at the heart of society’s most intractable problems.

          Rutger Bregman’s Utopia for Realists was published in 2014. In it, he argued the case for a universal basic income or, as he put it, “Why we should give free money to everyone”. It’s not a new concept – President Nixon came close to passing it into US law in 1970 – but it has always faced resistance from economists of a neo-liberal persuasion, whose belief – despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary – is that it would be unaffordable and that paying people to do nothing encourages indolence. Pilot schemes have all proved these beliefs to be unfounded: administration costs for grudging ‘job-seeking’ schemes are an expensive waste of resource because the desirability of employment is about more than just wage-dependence. Yet, still, there is a wilful blindness to the facts when it comes to adopting a social safety net for all. Well, now that we are in a situation where governments are paying the wages of millions of citizens because their employers are unable to stump up, there is a chance to change entrenched opposition to the idea of a universal basic income. Of course, strictly speaking, government is not paying wages, it is redistributing taxpayers’ funds: government does not have any money other than that with which taxpayers entrust it for the benefit of society as a whole. And it is the principle of collective benefit that this viral pandemic has thrown into the foreground.

          The term “keyworker” is not new either, but when it comes to a crisis the true value of our nurses, drivers, garbage collectors and others on whom we rely becomes self-evident. And the fact that they are stuck on the lowest rung of the pay ladder is a travesty of social justice, given that they are truly indispensable: their work cannot be done by robots. And at the top end of that keyworker pay scale are the scientists, surgeons and researchers whose earnings may be good but whose ranks have been thinned out by the lure of higher rewards as stock market traders, corporate lawyers and bankers. These are the “bullshit jobs”, so-called because they extract value from commercial activities without creating anything of value in return. Their remuneration is vampiric and capitalism – especially since the Reagan era – has produced a slew of them that multiplies itself constantly, skimming off wealth and concentrating it in the accounts of ever fewer individuals.

          Neo-liberal capitalism, by sleight of hand, has privatised public wealth, hollowed out public services, belittled specialist knowledge (except in the field of financial gimmickry), commoditised education and left the world unable to respond adequately or collectively to a pandemic that affects everybody. No way should it be back to business as usual. Just for a start, we should teach bankers to be responsible members of society: they must pay to park like the rest of us. Then we should recycle all those bullshit salaries by taxing them, along with the bullshit financial transactions upon which they depend. If this pandemic doesn’t catalyse system change, what will?