Looking at two different parts of the world, it is sometimes difficult to believe that the whole world is engaged in a relentless but common battle against a deadly — and often lethal — viral illness that has been dubbed Covid-19.
First, there is the case of the United Kingdom. Prime Minister Boris Johnson — otherwise a smooth-talking charmer — is confronted with a rebellion within his own party and a wave of public resentment over draconian steps his Government has taken to lessen the impact of a “second wave” of Covid-19. Among the steps just announced are restrictions in lockdown areas on people meeting those who don’t live in the same household. In other areas, there are strict instructions against more than six people assembling under the same roof. There are expectations that these restrictions will persist until the New Year. Consequently, Johnson is fearful that he will be the first ruler after Oliver Cromwell to prevent Britons from celebrating Christmas.
The second example is nearer home and centres on the anti-Covid-19 strategies of West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, a feisty lady who had once proclaimed her intention of transforming Kolkata into another London. On Mahalaya, the beginning of the auspicious season — this year’s almanack deems it to be nearly a month, unlike the traditional 10 days — that culminates in the immersion of the Goddess Durga on Vijaya Dashami, she made a momentous announcement. Dispelling Bengali fears that this year’s Durga Puja celebrations will be extremely low key and, in some cases, non-existent, she tweeted that life will be festive during the five-days when the whole of West Bengal turns into a carnival.
The two examples, drawn from two different parts of the world, reveal something that is becoming increasingly clear: there are no established, universal norms in the global battle against Covid-19. There may well be a shared hope, cutting across national borders, that the miracle vaccine involving fierce competition among different groups of scientists, will rescue the world and usher the return of normalcy. But apart from this common wait for science to deliver us from this Wuhan virus, there is nothing else in common.
Even within countries, there is no civic consensus. Just look at the campaigning styles in the US presidential election. The Democratic Party and its candidate Jo Biden is treading cautiously, trying to maintain a semblance of social distancing and advising its campaigners to wear masks. The rival Republican camp and incumbent President Donald Trump is not similarly inhibited. He is proceeding with mass rallies and large numbers of his supporters don’t seem to bother with either masks or social distancing.
Meanwhile, the US retains the top slot in the Covid-19 infection league. It is also a control that has dispelled with the idea of a national strategy against the pandemic. The country’s celebration of fierce individualism appears to have spilled over into the realms of public health. All attempts to curb individual freedom at the time of a pandemic is being seen as intrusive and, consequently, un-American.
India, thankfully, doesn’t have a Constitution that celebrates 1.3 billion people doing their own thing, although it is not China where 1.4 billion people are expected to do only one thing. Our Constitution advises citizens to acquire a “scientific temper”. In everyday understanding this implies that, confronted with a serious public health challenge, we are expected to follow specialist, scientific advice and not leave things to individual flights of whimsy. Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done.
At the national level, Prime Minister Narendra Modi has advised utmost caution. Despite the country being in the so-called un-lockdown stage, he has repeatedly emphasised the importance of social distancing and the fanatical use of the face mask. The ongoing session of Parliament has seen staggered sittings of the Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha, and MPs are seated in different sections of Parliament House. In Bihar, where campaigning for the Assembly election has begun hesitantly, the ruling National Democratic Alliance is focussing on virtual rallies, despite the uneven nature of internet connectivity.
In West Bengal, where the number of daily cases is around 3,200 and the public health infrastructure is not exactly fit for purpose, there have been random lockdowns whose dates are chosen as if it is a game of Russian roulette. In Parliament, MPs from the Trinamool Congress boasted that the State Government is being guided by a Global Advisory Council headed by a Nobel Prize winner in economics. Presumably they suggested to the Chief Minister that random lockdowns would confuse the virus totally. Presumably they must have also suggested that while it was a danger to young students to sit for the Joint Entrance Examinations, it was safe to go out and boisterously celebrate Durga Puja. It’s all very confusing.
The awkward reality is that at present there is no science behind the public health strategies. Everyone seems to be whistling in the dark, evolving strategies and hoping that things will keep ticking until the wonder drug — whether discovered in the laboratories of Putin’s Russia or Johnson’s alma mater Oxford — rescues everyone from this uncertainty. Like the mathematical modelling by epidemiologists that suggest nearly 70 per cent of India is bound to get infected or those who couldn’t care less because cow’s urine is the deadly virus killer, it is all a game of chance.
In this lottery of life there is no science, just plain luck.
