The War on Covid
By: Nick Harkaway
Tags: UK Politics, Rhetoric, Covid 19, Coronavirus, Patriotism

A “Your Country Needs You” for the Pandemic Moment

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We are in a war with an enemy that is ruthless, cruel and subtle. Casualties exceed those from the Battle of Britain in World War II. We are losing.

The enemy has no scruples. He attacks the old, the vulnerable, the poor. He is opportunistic. If he sees a chance to take the life of someone strong, he will do so. The death he inflicts is merciless and ugly. He is content to cripple, to wound, to exhaust. He will leave us with long term suffering — and the economy harm that entails — in up to fifteen cases in one hundred. He is invisible. He takes the form of those we know, those we love. He is a monster.

And together, we can destroy him utterly.

In the last five years we have made much of our uniqueness. We have claimed a high place in the world. We have reminded Europe of our independence, our unwillingness to bend the neck. We have reminded ourselves of our national resilience eighty years ago. We have stepped into the unknown based on the certainty of our strength as a society, as a national character of Britishness which is worthy to inherit the mantle of our heroes.

In this moment we will make good, or we will not. We will stand together, or we will fall apart. And in this moment, there is doubt. Shockingly, there is doubt, even though what we must do is not complicated. It is merely hard.

We have told ourselves that we do hard things. We have challenged the world. We will trade. We will grow. We will stand alone, and once more be the envy of the Earth, not the butt of the joke. Now is when we prove it.

Very well. We are not sitting comfortably.

Let us begin.

These are the seven things we must do to win this war. They are not so burdensome as were the things our forefathers did. Let them be done without complaint. Let them be done with British cool. Let them be done as if they are nothing. That is who we are. We are the nation that does what is necessary and does not consider troubles worth discussing.

First: we wear a mask when we leave the house. We wear a mask to shop, to work, to walk. We wear it over the mouth and nose. It is uncomfortable. That is irrelevant. We do this to protect our neighbours and ourselves, to remind us that we are in a war all the time, even though the enemy is invisible. We do it because the enemy is within, is all around, and we choose to continue to live. We do not remove the mask, not because science requires that it be on in all situations, but because it is a trivial discomfort and these rules must be simple or they will not work. This is not a surgical war, though it is a medical one. It is not elegant and perfect. It is messy. The trenches have come to us. So we wear our masks, and we carry on.

Second: we keep a two metre distance from others. One metre is just personal space. It vanishes on buses, at gates, in queues. One metre means “what you can, when you can,” which too often means no distance at all. The Two Metre Rule is simple. It means “as much space as you can” and — because the virus can spread much further than two metres under the right circumstances — that is what we need to do. Likewise, we avoid unventilated indoor spaces. If we control offices and buildings: we ensure that all our spaces are ventilated in such a way as to limit transmission. This is the price of possession of such resources. We do not complain that there is a draft, that it’s chilly in the winter. This is Britain. Of course it’s chilly in the winter. This is a country that does not shirk.

Third: we wash our hands. We treat flat, hard surfaces as suspect. Where they are our surfaces — door knockers, door bells — we clean them regularly. We block the enemy at every doorway, at every front step. We block it on every bus, in every station, in our homes and at our places of work. We do not walk the virus into the houses and workplaces of others, do not smear it with our fingers onto handrails or items in shops. We do not pass it on. We hold the line, and we trust that others will do the same for us.

Fourth: we teach our children these measures. We stop pretending they are immune. They are not. If we are lucky, they will not develop symptoms. That is not the same thing. We tell them the truth, because we are not afraid of it. We teach them to be wise as well as happy, strong as well as innocent. We do not pretend the world around them is not difficult sometimes. We do not pretend they are toys. We love them, and we show that by treating them with respect.

Fifth: we support those around us who need it. We are generous with our time, with our resources. We do not resent what we give away to those in need. In business, in society, we know that this is the moment to invest, to spend. This is what national wealth is for. We share not because it is required, but because it is right; not because we would wish others to share with us in our hour, but because we choose to do the kind thing. We keep track of our family, friends, neighbours. We talk to them. We protect them. When necessary, we carry them. We cook for our health workers, pay our carers, feed our bus drivers. We support those we employ or work with who must isolate to keep us safe. We are a nation.

Sixth: if we come into contact with the virus, we isolate. Our enemy is insidious because it inverts the pattern of trust. Those to whom we are closest are those from whom we are most at risk. We counter this by declaring where we stand, by drawing the line. This far, and no further. If we have symptoms, we get tested, and we isolate. If we are living with someone who may have the virus, we isolate. If we become ill with the virus, we isolate. We do not pass it on. We do not risk passing it on, even if we believe we do not have it. It is hard. It is wise. It is necessary. To be British is to understand this kind of reality, as it always has been.

Seventh, and finally: we are humble. We respect the value of work. We do not pretend to knowledge we do not have. Instead, we accept the advice of those who have made understanding this moment their life’s study. We do not shop around for advice which makes us feel better. We do not pretend that there is no war, that no enemy exists, that there are no dead, no grieving, no sufferers. We look the world in the eye, and we do what is necessary, because that is who we are. We take the measures that are necessary, because we do not choose to lose this war through arrogance or triviality. We choose to win it, and in doing so we shall discover the steel within ourselves, not merely as single persons but as a country. It is a country we have forgotten. It is time we remebered.

Together, we will win this war. The spring will come. That is not in question. In a matter of months, we will feel the shifting of the wind. We will see our enemy wither and fade. We will open the clubs and bars, the theatres and museums, the football grounds and cinemas, the high streets and tea shops. Even then, there will be much to be done to rebuild, to remake, retrain, revive, reimagine, renew.

We will do those things together, in the shared sunlight.

Until then, we fight.

Together.