Restrictions spur revolt in England

Liverpool pushes back on virus edicts from government

LIVERPOOL, England— The first time the police came to the Body Tech Fitness gym it was with a polite warning. Four hours later officerswere back, and this time in force.

As people worked out during lunchtime, about half a dozen officers, some with Tasers, ordered the closure of the fitness center, which had been deemed in breach of England’s toughest coronavirus restrictions.

But even a show of strength like that doesn’t always work — particularly not in a city like Liverpool.

While the main entrance was closed, the gym kept a discreet side door open for members to come in and work out. On Friday, in a head- snapping turn of events, the gym began operating legally for the first time in more than a week, having forced the authorities into an unlikely retreat.

The Body Tech Fitness saga, with its combination of opaque rule making, inconsistent enforcement and, ultimately, reversal, is inmanywaysemblematicof the British government’s overall performance since the outbreak of the coronavirus. Its handling of the pandemic has been in turns hesitant, halting, confused and contradictory — with policy deliberations taking place behind closed doors and limited engagement with the people and places bearing the brunt of the orders.

Over time, that has generated confusion and distrust, along with signs of growing resistance to the diktats from Westminster. And if there was one place that was not going to suffer quietly, local people say, it was Liverpool.

“Anyone who’s from Liv

erpool will tell you they are proud of the city. Historically, we have shown that we are not going to lie down when something is unfair,” said Nick Whitcombe, 29, owner of the gym in Moreton, about 6 miles from the city center, as he celebrated a victory achieved through concerted lobbying of politicians and slick outreach to the media.

Resilience— somewould say stubbornness— has long been considered a feature of this port city, historically enriched by commerce but more recently battered by deindustrialization and unemployment.

In the 1980s, economic decline brought some of the highest rates of joblessness in the country, riots and pockets of deprivation, before more recent regeneration spurred recovery in the city, which has always had a strong sense of identity.

None of that has made

the city an easy testing ground for a new system of coronavirus rules that divides England into three tiers, with corresponding restrictions, depending on the seriousness of infection rates. While the main aim was to reduce social contact, the government also hoped the system would allow schools to stay open and protect the economy as much as possible.

The overarching imperativewas toavoid a repetition of the full national lockdownthat sent theeconomy into free fall earlier this year.

Instead, the system has left many frustrated and confused, even as they acknowledge the gravity of the worsening health situation in Liverpool, whose mayor, Joe Anderson, lost a brother toCOVID-19.

One of the most blatant contradictions was the order to close gyms in Liverpool while those just miles

away in Lancashire — also placed twoweeks ago in the highest tier of restrictions— were allowed to operate. (The reverse was the case for indoor playgrounds.)

There were other oddities. While there is a ban on people from different households mixing, pubs can stay open. The catch, however, is that they can do so only if they serve meals.

According to Paul Brant, the Liverpool City Council member responsible for health, the risk is “incomprehension by the public, who then are less likely to followthe rules.”

Brant is a member of the opposition Labour Party, which runs Liverpool, a city that has never been strong territory for the Conservative Party of Prime Minister Boris Johnson.

But Brant thinks that the government is guilty not only of bad politics but also of “terrible public health,

because we cannot police our way out of this pandemic. We have to do it through public consent.”

Right now, that has been strained — sometimes close to breaking point — although there is less consensus about who is to blame.

“People in London are making decisions that they don’t really understand,” said Joanne Buckley, 34, as she worked out at Body Tech Fitness.

Buckley acknowledged that government ministers and public health authorities were “in a very highpressure situation, so I struggle to entirely blame them.”

The dangers of COVID-19 are well known to her: She lost a family member to the disease. But she does not see a gym with good hygiene standards as a danger.

After days of argument with Whitcombe and local

politicians, the government reversal over Liverpool’s gyms was announced last week in Parliament.

But that does nothing for other businesses in the city, including the comedy club Hot Water, whose owners feel their predicament matches the club’s name.

In the effort to keep operating, the club has had to address a bewildering web of orders. First, seating had to be reduced. Then, it wasprohibited to sell drinks directly from the bar. Most recently, all sales of alcohol were banned because the club does not serve food.

The club has kept customers informed through emails and in person. The reaction has not always been good.

“You try explaining to people on a Saturday night, ‘You can’t get a drink, but you can get a nonalcoholic cider,’ ” said Binty Blair, a co-owner.

MARY TURNER/THE NEW YORK TIMES Joanne Buckley works out at Body Tech Fitness in Liverpool. She says “people in London are making decisions that they don’t really understand.”