Battle with coronavirus has dystopian edge to it
Among the questions Horacio Arruda, Quebec’s director of public health, fielded during Tuesday’s daily coronavirus briefing was whether Montreal should follow the lead of Paris and ban jogging.
To his credit, the unflappable Arruda gave a serious and reasoned answer to what in these strange times passes for a serious and reasoned question. (For the record: no, jogging doesn’t pose any particular risk as long as everyone respects the usual social-distancing guidelines — plus, we don’t want avid runners to lose their minds.)
It has come to this.
With Quebec in its fourth week of emergency measures to fight the spread of COVID-19, the government now has a say in almost every aspect of our daily lives: who we can meet, who can visit us, where we can go, what we can do. And since the initial shock of the crisis has worn off, a strange new normal has settled over Quebec in which we look to the state for approval of our every choice and action.
But is this the sign of our strong social solidarity, or something more alarming?
Let me be clear: I am not disputing the need to stay home as much as possible and the need to stay away from other people in order to stop the spread of COVID -19. By and large, the Quebec government has been proactive and decisive in its response to this pandemic. When you compare the numbers in Quebec to the carnage in Italy, Spain or New York, it is obvious we are in capable hands.
And as Premier François Legault constantly reminds us, the harder we work at following directives now, the sooner we can get back to normal.
We hope. Nevertheless, the radical way our lives have changed in just a few short weeks is dizzying, jarring — even disturbing.
We hunker down at home nearly 24/7 — maybe 23/7, if we need to get groceries or dare go outside for a run.
People are lining up to get into supermarkets and pharmacies in scenes reminiscent of the Soviet era. At Costco in Terrebonne, police are now turning back customers from beyond city limits.
The most ordinary exploits are now forbidden, like taking your children to the playground or to visit their grandparents. Once-innocent pastimes are regarded with suspicion. Going for a walk, a bike ride or a jog happens under police surveillance.
Big Brother watching is the price we pay to be allowed to continue these activities.
Police have stepped up powers. People have been given tickets for sitting on the grass, playing soccer or even having friends pass in front of their homes to wish them happy birthday.
The Hasidic Jewish community in Boisbriand is surrounded by cops who determine who enters and leaves their neighbourhood.
They’re quarantined due to an outbreak, but this strict lockdown is a warning of what harsher measures look like.
Montreal Mayor Valérie Plante has threatened to close parks if they get too crowded, no matter how the spring sunshine beckons
urban dwellers who have few other safe, pleasant options to stretch their legs, walk their dogs or ensure their kids get some fresh air.
This threat looms like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall at any time if we step out of line. Our permission to use city parks has been walked back gradually.
First they came for the playgrounds; last weekend the pedestrian bridge across the Lachine Canal and the parking lots on Mount Royal and Île Notredame were closed.
We live in a state of dread and paranoia as to what privileges will be revoked next.
We have become distrustful of others. We dare not slow our stride if we pass a friend on the sidewalk, for fear of being accused of the crime of “congregating.” People are snitching on each other like something in an Orwell novel.
Each of these measures may be warranted. But taken together, they create a sense of dystopia.
In very short order, we have relinquished many of our civil liberties. Willingly, for a good cause, we have accepted incursions on our freedom of movement, association and peaceful assembly, in order to save lives, especially those of the elderly, doctors and nurses, as well as our loved ones.
But we haven’t yet contemplated the toll this war against the coronavirus has taken on our individual rights and freedoms. Perhaps we soon should, as we tend to take these things for granted in the best of times.
The speed with which basic liberties have been curtailed puts an added chill in this dystopian spring.
We dare not slow our stride if we pass a friend on the sidewalk, for fear of being accused of the crime of ‘congregating.’