LAID low with Omicron and high on a cocktail of Ibuprofen and Lemsip, I stared dizzily at the TV on New Year’s Day morning and aimed the remote in its general direction. Through the haze of infection and painkillers emerged the timeless waltzes of Johann Strauss.
Last year, the traditional Vienna Philharmonic New Year’s Day concert was played to an empty hall. This year was different. For while Austria’s ninny-ish Chancellor Karl Nechamer declined to attend, claiming as only a politician would do that it would “send out the wrong signal”, the Musikverein this year welcomed an audience of 1000 people, albeit restricted, fully masked, and in possession of a negative PCR. Despite those masks, how lovely it looked: warm, civilized, the epitome of chocolate box Europeanism. At the centre of it all was the great Daniel Barenboim, now approaching 80, conducting here for the third time. Economical of movement, sombre in stature, he held the hall on the thin point of his baton.
Before the final waltz, he turned and addressed his audience. “What you see today,” he declared, pointing to his orchestra, “is one community, a group of people who think similarly and feel the same. This should be an example. Covid is not just a medical catastrophe, it is a human catastrophe. It is a catastrophe that tries to bring us away from each other….Let’s take this example of humanity and deal with it in our daily lives.” Thunderous applause broke out in the hall.
On my sofa, I croaked a hear-hear and his words penetrated by Covid-fugged brain. For as we enter a new year besieged by warnings about medical consequences of the Omircon virus (from which I recovered speedily, thankyou), it seems to me that Mr Barenboim has a good corrective message for us all, and especially here at home in Scotland where the use of powers to keep us apart in the name of our own protection seems to be accepted with barely any question or challenge. Some push back is required.
It does, of course, require to be said that only the deluded would now disagree with the way in which government assumed power over our lives over the course of this pandemic. Even now, as the weaker strain of Omicron sweeps through our streets and communities, it remains justified that governments are given leeway to restrict in our basic liberties and freedoms. It is disagreeable, especially when you and your children are forced to stay at home. But that is the way it is.
But this does not mean we should not question and challenge those decisions nonetheless. We should never lose sight of the fact that these powers over our lives are an exception, that they were intended to be temporary, and that intrude on the normal functioning of a free society. We should never lose sight of the fact that it is, in Mr Barenboim’s words, catastrophic — spiritually, socially, emotionally — to be kept away from each other like this. Nor should we be blind to the cultural shift that has occurred over this last two years. Those government instructions to stay at home have created an entirely new code of social behaviour. They increasingly have the quality of infallible commandments. Unless you think governments should be followed like 19th century religious leaders, that should give pause for thought.
The problem as I see it is that, too often, we are. Losing sight that is. Slowly but surely over the last two years, a culture of toe-dipping cautiousness has understandably seeped into the public consciousness. A “better not” attitude is holding sway. In this way, exceptional and extraordinary measures taken at a time of crisis are slowly becoming normalized and standardized, and even seen as desirable. This is bad news. It is bad for our culture and our society, diluting it of its richness. It is also ripe for exploitation by government. We should always be on the look-out when governments assume powers over our liberties and freedoms. Sometimes they may be justified, sometimes they may be not. But without challenge, one thing is certain: they will inevitably be extended, and in some case abused.
Take the health service. The call to “protect our NHS” has been brilliantly successful these last two years. We have responded to fears that our most trusted and loved national institution was under threat. A proper response to the crisis would see government examining the underlying shortcomings in the NHS that Covid exposed and deepened. Instead, it’s easy to see how, over the coming years, governments and health leaders will play on our adoration of the NHS to insist we must continue to “protect” it from ourselves in perpetuity. At the weekend, Wales’ Chief Medical Officer Sir Frank Atherton gave a taste of things to come, arguing that even people with colds should, in future, self-isolate “for a few days, just to stop it transmitting,” He acknowledged there were “real implications” for such a policy. You don’t say. A directive to stay at home during a pandemic looks set to be extended for good.
More specifically in Scotland, it’s also easy to see how the SNP will exploit the role handed to it by the crisis as a way to sell itself as a kind of benevolent national protector: as the reassuring parent that we children cannot do without. All governments have noticed how during the crisis most people were happy to be led and instructed on what to do. For a nationalist administration which hungers for control more than anything, this will not have passed them by. On Radio Scotland yesterday morning, John Swinney pushed out pre-prepared lines to claim that lower infection rates in Scotland compared to England were down to the ‘protections’ brought in by him and Nicola Sturgeon. Apparently, it is was nothing to do with the fact that the epicentre of the outbreak is in London. No, Mr Swinney insisted it was due to “the active policy making here in Scotland and the distinctive decision making we have been able to protect the population.” This bogus claim was as blunt a political message as it gets. We are looking after you. The other lot won’t.
Of course, governments must govern. And in these strange times, of course they must sometimes restrict our movements, restrain our behaviour and, at times, instruct us into a course of action. But a society which adopts these measures without quibble, or one that actively welcomes them, is one that marches towards infantilization and willing subservience to a government all too eager to lead them.
Back in Vienna, Mr Barenboim said in advance of the concert: “I hope that it inspires some politicians around the world to think about the importance and the spiritual need of the population for music.” With the best will in the world, I doubt it very much. But he was right to give us a reminder nonetheless. I am grateful to all those in the government in Scotland who have striven to keep me safe, help me get tested, and sorted out vaccines over these last two years. But when it’s over, if you wouldn’t mind, please know your place. It is time to hear the music again.
First published in the Scottish Daily Mail, 5th January 2022