Free at last to be ourselves

We found strength and solidarity in these dark times, but we lost hope. Now at last hope is back

THERE is no logic to hope. Hope usually is fuelled by emotion, not reason. Two years ago come March, we listened to Leo Varadkar telling us the country would shut down for a few weeks to combat the spread of the novel coronavirus, and we hoped.

We hoped it really would be only for a few weeks.

We hoped that we and those we love would not catch it.

We hoped that infection numbers would be low, and we hoped that none of our relatives or friends, especially the older among them, would die.

But in our hearts, we knew. We knew our lives had changed in a way unseen for a century. Covid cared little for hope, as it swept through nursing homes, workplaces, schools and the community.

All these months later, months in which we changed our basic behaviour, months in which we often found ourselves confined to our homes, months in which the most basic human interactions we cherish – the handshake, the hug, the soothing word of comfort – were denied to us, we are weary.

Unsurprisingly, hope itself became a casualty. New variants of the virus swept in, and there were days, long and dark days, especially this time last year, when we wondered if we would ever escape this living hell.

This weekend, though, hope is back, and back in a way that seemed unthinkable even a week ago. News of the rollback of restrictions took almost everyone by surprise. Though much of the detail had already been leaked, the Taoiseach strode down the steps of Government Buildings at teatime on Friday, and the only surprise was that he didn’t move straight into a Willy Wonka tumble on the last step.

Micheál Martin has had to deliver bad news often since he took office, but this time the mood was different. He, like the rest of us, knows that the pandemic is not over, maybe far from it, but we have no choice but to live with it.

We can view it through a different lens. The vaccination programme, of which we can be genuinely proud as Irish people embraced science over the scaremongering of the imbecilic conspiracy theorists, has changed the game in a way we maybe never thought possible. In the early days of Covid, we trembled at the thought of a hundred new cases a day. Now, if we hear it’s ‘only’ 10,000, we see that as a win.

We know that Omicron is manageable. It has driven record levels of infection but they have not been followed by record levels of hospitalisation and death. We really have learned to live with Covid and, with new therapeutic drugs soon to be drafted into battle, we know that battle can be won.

Many of those watching on Friday evening confessed to feeling emotional when the Taoiseach said, ‘Spring is coming and I don’t think I have ever looked forward to a spring as much as this one’. Even without Covid, spring is a special time, the season of renewal and rebirth. Who doesn’t smile when the first crocus peeps its head above the soil, or when the first clump of daffodils proudly proclaims that winter is over and summer is on the horizon? There is the sense of achievement that we have survived

‘Meitheal is at the very heart of Irish life’

another cold, wet, cruel winter, weathered the short days, and looked into ourselves to find the light nature does not supply.

Few among us, if canvassed before Covid arrived, ever would have claimed we could cope with isolation, with confinement to a universe only four kilometres across, without physical contact with family and friends. Our technological world came to the rescue as we adapted to upheaval, though surely few will make the Zoom or FaceTime pub quiz a permanent fixture of their lives. Desperate times call for desperate measures, but we are probably happy to consign video calls to the dustbin of history (or at least the glovebox).

The pandemic had many, many negatives and imposed burdens few alive today have seen before. There were positives too though. Individually, we discovered resilience. Those who found that a challenge also found comfort in the support of others. Neighbours who barely knew each other became friends. Communities pulled together to

ensure that no one went hungry, and no one was left behind.

There has always been talk of the so-called new normal, and there is no doubt that we will still voluntarily observe some of the restrictions that are no longer compulsory.

But the new normal was all about outward expression – mask-wearing, social distancing, working from

home. As Micheál Martin said, we humans are sociable, and the Irish are more sociable than most. That is the old normal, and it never went away.

Meitheal is at the very heart of Irish life. We look out for each other. We look after each other. It’s riveted into our DNA, and we saw it every day since March 2020, in the

dedication of our healthcare workers, our teachers, our gardaí, our armed forces, our postal workers, our refuse collectors, our retail workers, and everyone who made life seem normal when it was anything but.

We are not stupid. We have been here too many times before to believe the pandemic is over, or that

Covid no longer poses any threat. But by our actions, we have diminished it. We have taken away its hold over us, and we now move to the peace dividend after the war, no matter how fragile that peace may prove.

As in all wars, there were casualties, and today must be bittersweet indeed for all who lost family to

Covid. Our hearts are with them, and we hope the burden of their grief is lessened by the memories of better times.

Every detail of our lives over the past two years has been unnatural, but we coped because we hoped. We hoped that everything we once took for granted would be restored to us, and the throngs of people who yesterday injected fresh life into the devastated hospitality industry proved that restoration is well under way.

Suppressed emotion has bubbled to the surface and there are many who confessed to being deeply moved by what will be the defining speech of Micheál Martin’s time in office. In a few words, he summed up what we all felt. He renewed our hope, and it seems more appropriate than ever before, because this time it is not just an emotional craving but a rational ambition.

‘Spring is coming,’ he said. ‘We need to see each other again. We need to see each other smile. We need to sing again.’

No truer words ever were spoke.