I’m writing this on the evening of the first full day of the Covid-19 “lock down” here in New Zealand.
The world is a different place today than it was three months ago. The virus has changed everything. The fact that we are living through history was brought home to me when I was talking to my elderly mother about the closure of schools and businesses, and she told me about the similar response to the polio outbreak when she was a child. I realised that schoolchildren today, as they were back then, will be known as the kids that lived through the pandemic.
We thought 9/11 was significant, but really its effects were minor. Of course, for those in the Twin Towers or on one of those airplanes on that day in 2001, or even for the many US service men and women who went to fight in Afghanistan and Iraq as a result of the terrorist attacks, the impact was huge. But for the rest of us the effects of those events were mostly limited to extra security checks at airports and in some public buildings. The current crisis is different – it affects us all profoundly and intimately.
The first day has been fine. I think we all feel excited at these momentous events that have overtaken us, tinged with a little worry about how long it will last and who might succumb to the virus. The worst time will be later, when the excitement wears off along with our tolerance for the annoying habits of those we are forced to spend every waking hour with for the next month. Even the most solid relationships will be tested.
I am fortunate. My home is spacious and is surrounded by the “green belt” of trees and bush, interspersed with hiking trails and fields, so I can go for a long walk and barely cross paths with another human being. My family and I have almost everything we need right here and so long as we can stock up every week or two with essential supplies, we can continue to live in considerable comfort. I have watched the apartment dwellers in European and Asian cities, singing from their balconies and otherwise putting on a brave face in their cramped spaces, and I know their confinement is so much worse than mine.
There will be moments when fear will eat away at our resilient spirits. Concern about getting the virus itself is only part of it. The loss of economic and social freedom frightens everyone. We have all been made dependent on our governments, no matter how self-sufficient we were before. I am sure that even the most ardent big-state supporters don’t completely trust the government with the almost unlimited powers it has assumed to deal with this crisis. I watched the New Zealand police commissioner earlier today talking about how he will enforce the lock down, and he wasn’t shy about threatening the use of force against those who break the curfew. I am sure the actions of the police here in New Zealand will be measured, but now we all have a taste of what it must have been like to live under a totalitarian regime such as Soviet Communism.
Our cage might be gilded, but it is still a cage.
The world is a different place today than it was three months ago. The virus has changed everything. The fact that we are living through history was brought home to me when I was talking to my elderly mother about the closure of schools and businesses, and she told me about the similar response to the polio outbreak when she was a child. I realised that schoolchildren today, as they were back then, will be known as the kids that lived through the pandemic.
We thought 9/11 was significant, but really its effects were minor. Of course, for those in the Twin Towers or on one of those airplanes on that day in 2001, or even for the many US service men and women who went to fight in Afghanistan and Iraq as a result of the terrorist attacks, the impact was huge. But for the rest of us the effects of those events were mostly limited to extra security checks at airports and in some public buildings. The current crisis is different – it affects us all profoundly and intimately.
The first day has been fine. I think we all feel excited at these momentous events that have overtaken us, tinged with a little worry about how long it will last and who might succumb to the virus. The worst time will be later, when the excitement wears off along with our tolerance for the annoying habits of those we are forced to spend every waking hour with for the next month. Even the most solid relationships will be tested.
I am fortunate. My home is spacious and is surrounded by the “green belt” of trees and bush, interspersed with hiking trails and fields, so I can go for a long walk and barely cross paths with another human being. My family and I have almost everything we need right here and so long as we can stock up every week or two with essential supplies, we can continue to live in considerable comfort. I have watched the apartment dwellers in European and Asian cities, singing from their balconies and otherwise putting on a brave face in their cramped spaces, and I know their confinement is so much worse than mine.
There will be moments when fear will eat away at our resilient spirits. Concern about getting the virus itself is only part of it. The loss of economic and social freedom frightens everyone. We have all been made dependent on our governments, no matter how self-sufficient we were before. I am sure that even the most ardent big-state supporters don’t completely trust the government with the almost unlimited powers it has assumed to deal with this crisis. I watched the New Zealand police commissioner earlier today talking about how he will enforce the lock down, and he wasn’t shy about threatening the use of force against those who break the curfew. I am sure the actions of the police here in New Zealand will be measured, but now we all have a taste of what it must have been like to live under a totalitarian regime such as Soviet Communism.
Our cage might be gilded, but it is still a cage.
1 comment:
I enjoyed reading this.
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