On March 23rd, I wrote that it was a good idea to 'stick to the official news sources, check them once a day, and then move on.' Wise words. The trouble is, the official news sources now make me rage. A few quick dips into the daily briefing over the past week, and I find myself shouting obscenities at the television like I'm in the middle of a sponsored swear. I've been consistently angry at the state of UK politics for four years now. It's exhausting. (Not just in the UK either. Recent events in the US - as well as some not-so-recent ones - have made my blood boil and my heart break.) Looking away, switching off the news, distracting myself with something calming? Well intentioned, good ideas? Perhaps. Certainly better for my health, too. I look away on occasion when it's all too much, but it's not a long-term strategy. I want to be informed. I want to know what I need to know, to make the right decisions - whether that's during a referendum, an election, or when choosing broadcasters and journalists to trust with the facts. Turning away from the smoke and mirrors of political messaging is not for me, as much as it might be preferable at times. I use the anger I feel at the state of... whatever it is at the time, to make me read more, know more, and understand more. But isn't that the same for everyone these days? Before last year, who had watched the BBC Parliament channel for more than five minutes? Who knew what proroguing meant? Did any of us follow constitutional lawyers on Twitter and devour breakdowns of statements from Downing Street in the olden times? I'm assuming not, unless you have a particular kink for legal, political detail. And yet here we are. Last week I watched the Commons Liaison Committee quiz the Prime Minister for over an hour. I followed that with the Daily Briefing by the Health Secretary. After that afternoon of - let's just call it fun in inverted commas - I found myself storming out of the house for a power walk, working off my outrage as I huffed and puffed down the road. (Socially distanced! Nowhere near anyone else! Not in a car to Durham!)
You see that's the problem. In the past, there have been ways of channelling anger constructively and collectively. I've bought the T-shirt, got the train, and marched through central London enough times over the last couple of years to realise that even when nothing changes as a result of it, the empowerment of actually doing something is like an icy sprinkler, dampening the white-hot embers of rage. It feels soothing even when the situation continues to burn. It's a positive act. Things feel better for a time.
But now, we don't have that. We can't congregate beyond a group of six, we can't march in the middle of a pandemic. Journalists are cut off on Zoom in a way they wouldn't be in person. The (minor) breaking of the regulations by a government advisor, is explained away as 'responsible behaviour' by a father who followed his instincts, one day, or 'a lot of the allegations turned out to be totally false', another. Millions of people, who would have loved to have followed their instincts, were stuck in lockdown when others weren't, and they are angry. Millions of people have witnessed live gaslighting via Daily Briefing, as rules and guidelines that were once repeated each evening to the country, are now reworded with much more wriggle room, presumably to accommodate anyone who might have broken them. Unless it's anyone in the general public, of course. Their fines and penalties stand.
I started this rant with anger because that's what I feel. And yet it is important to contextualise it. Last Monday I sat in the garden with a glass of wine, discussing my outrage about a news story whose furious bubble now seems to have reduced to a simmer. Despite the outrage, I recognise I am very lucky. I can have wine in the garden when I feel the need. My salary and that of my partner's has not changed. Despite increased working hazards requiring PPE, there have been no additional worries about employment. Being childfree means no concerns over home-schooling, going back to school, or what childcare is available. I'm not old enough to be in a vulnerable category. I've no health problems that required me to be shielded. On the other end of the scale, I'm not seventeen and longing to be in the pub, kissing boys, and having the time of my life. (I do long for a pint of draft pale ale, but I'm coping.) The point is, as far as a household in lockdown goes, mine has been as good as it could be. And yet - and here's the point I've been meandering towards - my life since March has been demonstrably shitter. Not as shit as a family that has juggled home schooling with working from home. Not as shit as having crippling financial worries because of the uncertainty of it all. Not as shit as losing a relative and being unable to comfort family members in person. Not as shit as the millions of other households that have dealt with tragedy and heartbreak in the midst of this pandemic. And yet, it's still been shitter than it was.
If I am angry at the hypocrisy and mixed-messaging of the current government, that can only be a fraction of what other people feel. The ones that have had to deal with far more life-changing situations than me. And I wonder where this rage will end? What will it lead to? Unlike previous political decisions that have caused outrage, this one has affected us all. A few contrarian columnists and creeping politicians aside, this has united everyone. We have all made sacrifices, some unimaginable to me. I hope the anger can be used for good. I hope it can be channelled positively into a force for change, so this level of either corruption or mishandling - you can choose your own stance - can never happen again. Because if it isn't channelled for good, then the alternative is even more concerning. Until that time, I'm left with angry power walks, wine in the garden, and not shutting up about it. Because once I accept it as normal, the next outrage will have to be even worse to register. Not on my watch. Have a lovely week, folks.
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