Mixed messages mean it’s every man for himself

IT’S not often we experience nationalistic pride, a moment which unites us all. The odd sporting triumph, a successful export not making a show of themselves on telly, Americans dying their rivers green for Paddy’s Day, it’s a rare occasion when we all rise as one and say, ‘ Jaysus, isn’t it great to be Irish?’

But we got there earlier this year, became a nation once again; and not just for a few minutes, but for a sustained period of time, days, weeks, months.

Now though, we’re fed up of doing our bit, of sacrificing our own needs for the good of the country – sure ‘ tis only a kip anyway.

Because after approximately three months of diligence, of widespread patriotism and solidarity, we are back to looking after the most important people in our lives: ourselves.

If you were brave enough to venture outdoors on Sunday you would have been left in no doubt that, for the vast majority, Covid-19 is old hat, a rapidly receding storm which has all but blown over.

Thronged beaches, packed trails, shopping thoroughfares with hardly room to move, it wasn’t so much a case of normality returning as the hounds being unleashed.

But this isn’t another sermon about the dangers of a second wave, of a shared responsibility to beat this thing into submission. Because I was there too. I was at the beach, I walked those trails, I ambled through town. And I did so without fear for, not just my own safety, but for the safety of others.

And I wasn’t even wearing a mask – I know what all the evidence says but I’m just not afraid of the coronavirus anymore.

You can call me selfish, lambast me for not taking into consideration the welfare of others, but even when I do take into consideration the welfare of others; the elder members of my family, those with underlying illnesses, people whom I care dearly for who are most at risk; I’m still not afraid.

This is partly down to the relatively low figures in Wexford where I live: at the time of writing there is grand total of 223 positive cases of Covid-19 in a county of around 150,000 people. Those numbers would give anyone confidence.

Mostly though, it’s down to the word from on high, or the lack thereof.

Where once the message was clear and absolute, it’s now equal parts wishy and washy. Take this ‘green list’ for example. How can we seriously be asked to steer clear of local pubs – places where the same arses sit on the same stools night after night, year after year, until infinity – while at the same time be told we can fly on a plane to a different country, one with a unique ecosystem, a biodiverse region which, even under normal circumstances, would have an impact on our fragile little constitutions.

Not only that. If and when we do get to these countries, these farflung utopias, we will not only be rubbing shoulders with concerned residents but also other tourists, people from America, the UK, countries in which the virus is still rampant.

And finally, to put the cherry on the icing on the cake, the residents of these lavish, green nations will be able to visit us ad hoc, stroll in and out of our airports with abandon.

I know the airlines are struggling for business and that those in power are trying to stimulate one more piece of the economy. But is it not all a little upside-down? In one instance we’re being informed this is the year of the staycation, the summer to revisit the holiday destinations of our youth.

Yet we must do so without being allowed to visit any pubs – well, aside from the ones selling a couple of chicken nuggets for €9 and calling it a substantial meal.

Meanwhile, having waxed lyrical about the virtues of Kerry, of Wexford, Mayo, Donegal, we’re being told that yes you can have your sun holiday this year, and not only that, we’ll even pick somewhere out for you.

Is it any wonder we’ve lost our sense of unity, decided ‘ to hell with it’ and reverted to type. Covid-19 is either a grave threat to the welfare of the nation or it’s not.

It’s either dangerous enough to have us all tread lightly, to wear masks, avoid pubs, holidays, hurling matches, or it’s not.

We’ve shown we can do what we’re told. But first we have to be told what to do.