Skip to main content

AHEAD OF THE CURVE

The laws announced in a dramatic speech last night at 8.30 pm live on BBC television by PM Boris Johnson are the most astonishing ever, in a UK context. The history of Britain, since Magna Carta at least, has never witnessed such draconian measures; indeed, not even the most fevered of ancient kings would have imagined ordering EVERYONE to stay indoor for 3 weeks, under penalty of sanction.

That these laws do not go far enough, in this blog's opinion, is a measure of just how serious the current global pandemic is. Indeed, it is of grave concern, now that cases are arriving in Africa, that death rates have been so high in Italy - a country with superb health care. The concern for all humane persons must be what such a deadly virus could do on a continent with far fewer hospital beds or ventilators per capita than Europe, which is itself stressed to breaking point, with many healthcare workers themselves dying from Covid-19.

Those who deny or diminish the dangers of this novel virus are endangering millions of lives; no one is immune, and the young and old can both die from this cruel and relentless parasite, that thrives on social contact.

We need to see our borders closed; internal travel curtailed for non-essential workers; and the underground and busses blocked to all but NHS staff, the police, and other emergency workers. Scenes of crowds sporting in the sun are insulting to human intelligence, and anti-social; packed train carriages suggest the government needs to support the zero-hours and self-employed workers faster and better; and crackdown on rogue bosses demanding people work when they should be staying inside for at least three weeks.

Now, at least, the government is getting its balance right - towards greater and more serious measures; we expect to see increasingly serious orders imposed in the coming 6-8 weeks, when the pandemic here will truly explode.

On March 8, when I first started writing about the pandemic, there were 100,000 cases. I predicted 1.5 million by April 8th. There are now 300,000, and apparently that number is doubling every 4 days, so we shall see. I hope not.

In other ways, I was conservative in my predictions, though jeered at by some as a fearmonger. I wrote on March 8:

'By Mid-May … Everyone who can will work from home, and food will be delivered by soldiers. Theatres, cinemas, music concerts, all will be firmly shut. It will feel like a movie, and not a happy one.'

The shutdown has begun, and soldiers are being discussed, now, as potential deliverers of food to the most in need. The army is on the streets today as reported in the news, so, by April, Great Britain's laws, streets, and general lifestyle will not be recognisable. In fact, they're alien to anything that has come before. Let's hope the laws work.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

CLIVE WILMER'S THOM GUNN SELECTED POEMS IS A MUST-READ

THAT HANDSOME MAN  A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought.  Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart?  A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional.  Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were.  For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ?  Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets.  But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ?  How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular.  John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se.  What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and  Silence of the Lambs .  I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".