Some winters are more beautiful than even the most exquisite summer. Against the snowscape outside, the pubs shine with firelight and good cheer. In a season that is both hedonistic and introspective, the thrum of shopping competes with the chirp of sledging youngsters as ambient sounds. You almost bribe a passing orphan to carry the largest goose in London town to Bob Cratchit as soon as possible. This will not be one of those winters. As I write, several nations are re-entering a state of lockdown, but without the novelty and grim humour that characterised the first.
Remote employees' ability to take a mid-afternoon constitutional will mean a lot less in the cold and dark. Outdoor eating will be bleak for those who have taken the unusual decision not to reside in Los Angeles. Families that only meet once a year will be brutally separated.
The general population is aware of all of this. It explains the massive anti-lockdown protests I've been hearing about: the coronavirus cultural war, which has been raging for almost a year. How careless of the pollsters to overlook it. According to a recent YouGov poll, 68% of British citizens support a two-week "circuit breaker" shutdown. Only 20% of those polled are against it.
Those who feel that new limits go too far or strike the correct balance outweigh those who believe they are insufficient. You may say this is the passiveness of an unrevolutionary nation until you uncover comparable views abroad. In France last month, the proposal of at least a 15-day lockdown received 72 per cent approval.
At the time of writing, nine major cities are under curfew. I keep hearing about the massive anti-lockdown protests. How careless of the pollsters not to have noticed it. In the United States, the earliest lockdowns were widely supported by the public. The quick departure from them did not work.
There are few polls on the second round of limitations, but there is a proxy measure in the shape of the presidential election. Donald Trump has positioned himself as the antidote to the establishment's interfering killjoys and weak hearts. According to the facts, there are fewer takers than he had hoped for. Two aspects of the great lockdown Kulturkampf stand out. For starters, it can be found everywhere except in public opinion polls. Second, my profession appears to be virtually willed into existence at times. And, I emphasise, not out of malice. It's not so much sensationalism as it is industry-wide humiliation at work here.
After underestimating popular disdain for elites in 2016, we now sometimes foresee it before it occurs.
We are repeatedly because we are so determined not to make the same mistake twice. In the process, the true tale of the year is overshadowed. It is no longer the disorder and division that characterises Western civilisations. It's their unusual docility. Of course, a tiny number of dissenters may undermine a lot of public health efforts. Even a trader of the wisdom of crowds, a believer in the people, would have expected a considerably higher proportion at this point. Imagine being informed in March that lockdowns would cost a country a fifth of its GDP in one quarter while maintaining a supermajority of support by October. Or that the country in question is the United Kingdom, where reverence has long given way to widespread scepticism about official power.
We'll never know the true cost of the lockdown in terms of untaught pupils, unformed relationships, and neglected parental bereavements. The reaction may still be on the way, and it will be worse since it has been building for several months. It's simply that its enigmatic nature is a lot bigger concern than we give it credit for. It contradicts all that has been stated in recent years about western democracies' noisy ungovernability. Our perception of The People and their attitudes toward power may need to be revised. It appears that the falcon can hear the falconer.
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