Hopelessness on the home front: The nation needs something to look forward to
As the pandemic continues to roll through our communities, riding undulating waves of infection “R”, infectious hope does not seem to have followed the same trajectory.
In the midst of lockdown, many talked about hope as a protective shield that would see us through to the end of this crazy interlude. My, how we would laugh at the ridiculous toilet roll dramas and the disastrous evenings with the “house party app” once things got back to normal and everyone removed their rainbow paintings from the windows.
Yes, we were all #InItTogether — and self-congratulatory at how neighbours rallied and the suffering was worth it to protect our most vulnerable. We imagined “post vacc” parties, sun-drenched foreign trips, and a Christmas to herald the end of this Annus Horribilis.
When the clouds of restrictions drifted but lingered on the horizon, we began to meander around the “new normal” with no map. Resolved to live between lockdowns, we emerged from shelter into the daylight blinking at the sun and tried to make up for lost time, feeling fabulously noble at how, in doing so, we were “helping out” local businesses.
Now, as London joins many millions in the country who are subject to the inglorious Tier 2 restrictions (or harsher), the mood is as gloomy as the outlook for Christmas. No longer #InItTogether, the realisation that some of us are in it more than others — in terms of geography, age, and income bracket — has had a striking impact on flattening the curve of hope.
The mood music in our towns and cities is an absence of “look forward to”. A lack of ability to concretely plan things in our future means that the only certainty we have is riding the rollercoaster of Lockdown the Sequel. No one (not even — or rather, especially not — the government) knows when this ride will end or when the restrictions will rise or fall.
The impossibility of predicting when a vaccine will be ready and if people will be given it fuels insecurity about the economy, jobs, health, and vulnerability to infection. This, coupled with the population being socially and emotionally locked down and the dearth of touch, is leading us towards a dangerous chasm of Great British hopelessness.
U-turns, overblown promises, calamitous test and trace systems and lack of candour all suggest that the hands on the wheel steering us through stormy waters is not steady, which challenges the belief that we can beat this.
The government has responded to the pandemic with a mixture of unpredictable fluctuations of restrictions and scolding instructions to follow the rules, seemingly blind to the real need to allow people to hope for the return of simple pleasures — like dinner with parents, hugging a grandchild or kissing a lover.
The mental health impact of the isolation of restrictions is discussed widely, yet it is not being adequately addressed through the government’s actions.
Perhaps isolation would be better managed and compliance with restrictions increased if policy were constructed by politicians who prioritised the need to give our fatigued population what it most craves right now: the ability to hope.
Main image credit: Getty