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Politics Foreign Affairs Culture Fellows Program

Quality of Life is More Difficult to Measure Than Death Rates

How much of what makes us 'human' must be sacrificed to COVID?
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This weekend I shall go to a restaurant and I really can’t wait. But I’m also anxious; things will be different. I had to book well in advance: there’s little room for spontaneity in our post-lockdown ‘new normal’. I had to leave my full contact details. I will only be able to dine with the people I live with, my family, whom I love very much, of course, but – after three and a half months – we are all craving new company. We will be seated at a bare table, kept far apart from other diners, served by waiters wearing masks and gloves, offered a limited menu and given condiments in disposable sachets. 

I am worried that my longed-for night out will be more like a visit to the dentist than a few hours of pleasure. However, after three and a half months of lockdown I am prepared to take the risk. Frankly, I would do pretty much anything for an evening away from television news reports detailing the latest coronavirus death toll and tracking reports of new cases. (In the UK at least, both are steadily falling – although this is rarely noted).

As countries around the world emerge, falteringly, from lockdown, people are wary. The importance of continuing to practice social distancing and not being reckless with our newly regained freedoms is reiterated on a loop. If we disobey, restrictions will be reimposed. Even before schools, cafes and pubs have fully reopened, England has its first localised lockdown in place. The next few weeks might simply be a temporary respite. The threat of winter, with cold weather, more time spent indoors, and more opportunities for coronavirus to spread, looms large. Before we find ourselves back in lockdown, it is vital we take stock of the past few months.

We need to have a difficult conversation about what we have gained and lost from locking down society for such a lengthy period. We look to death tolls and new Covid-19 cases because they provide us with something tangible. Statistics can be plotted on graphs, dips and bumps highlighted, progress recorded. 

Each grim number represents a tragedy for the family and friends of the deceased but for the rest of us, this data is out of all context. Most of us have little idea how many people usually die on any given day. We are not told how many of the people who have tested positive for coronavirus are asymptomatic or how many people go on to make a full recovery.

On the other hand, there is another set of statistics – a growing tally of jobs lost and people out of work. And each of these numbers also hides a story: families struggling to pay rent and bills, to feed and clothe children; people left anxious, insecure, ground down. Unsurprisingly, the sectors now shedding workers are those that struggled through lockdown: catering, retail, tourism, the arts and – in the UK especially – aviation.

Unemployment in these areas hints at other, less readily quantifiable, losses. As a result of lockdown, museums, art galleries, cinemas and libraries all closed. Live performances were cancelled. The loss of revenue and continued social distancing requirements mean many theatres and concert halls will struggle to reopen. The arts make a valuable contribution to our cultural life, at best they remind us of what it means to be human, but they have been left decimated in a matter of weeks.

The same goes for sporting events. Watching live sport, competing, or participating in a team game provides pleasure to millions. It is historically unprecedented for the Olympics to have been postponed. When Olympic athletes strive to be ‘Faster, Higher, Stronger’ they show us what the human body, as well as the human spirit, is capable of achieving. This year, we are all poorer for the want of that reminder.

Perhaps most tragic of all is the closure of schools. Rather than bringing children out of their homes to be educated in a public setting, we sent a generation to their bedrooms with only a screen for company. Instead of passing on to children their intellectual birthright, giving them access to the best that has been thought and said, we gave them social media. We denied them opportunities to forge relationships and make new friends. 

Collectively, we now know far more about coronavirus than we did at the start of this year. We know it is most devastating for elderly people and that it spreads rapidly in care homes and hospitals. We know that younger people are far less likely to die, or even to suffer serious complications, from coronavirus. Children are more likely to be struck by lightning than to die from Covid-19.

It was right that, when confronted with an unknown threat to health, we sought to protect and extend life. However, now that we know more about the virus we need to take a more balanced approach before rushing into imposing new lockdowns.

Quality of life is more difficult to measure than death rates. But what makes us human is far more than simply being alive. We do not exist simply to mark off days on a calendar. We need relationships, art, culture, sport, education and all the other things that make life worth living, lift our spirits and remind us of our common humanity. When future lockdowns are proposed we need to ask at what point robbing life of all pleasure renders the project of extending days futile. I’ll begin by ordering an extra large glass of wine when I’m back in my favorite restaurant this weekend.

Joanna Williams is a regular contributor to TAC and the director of the UK based think tank, Cieo.

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