The elephant in the room

I like disaster movies. You know the kind – comets hitting the Earth, zombie apocalypses, maniacal baddies threatening global extinction. That sort of thing. But here’s the point. I like watching a disaster movie but not being part of one.

In case you haven’t already guessed, I give you due warning – this is about coronavirus. If you don’t want to know the score, look away now. Normal life is pretty much put on hold for the immediately foreseeable future. Coronavirus is the biggest health emergency to hit the world in the last… well… ever. In fairness, the 1918 flu pandemic probably runs a good second.

And the 1918 pandemic is the basic model upon which health service planning to contain the outbreak is based. Like coronavirus, the 1918 agent (H1N1) has caused death by bacterial superinfection (pneumonia). Moreover its timing, towards the end of the First World War when public health standards were lower and malnutrition prevalent, played a part in the worldwide death toll of around 40 million.

But coronavirus, ultimately, is not the same thing. It is complacent of us to believe so. The limited data available so far suggests that the elderly are particularly at risk from coronavirus, in contrast to regular seasonal flu which particularly harmed those at the top and bottom ends of normal lifespan, and the 1918 strain which affected working age people much more than expected. Coronavirus is what it is. And H1N1 it ain’t.

It’s easy to be fatalistic about this evolving pandemic. It’s easy to believe we are powerless in the face of this microbiological tsunami and all we can do is wait for the drama to unfold.

But that’s not true. There are measures we can take. Some of these are personal measures such as washing our hands properly and not sneezing on people. The things our parents taught us. In some ways, these measures are so simple that the public is resistant, feeling perhaps that deadly diseases need high-tech treatments. And wearing a face mask may do little to affect your chances of being infected but it will reduce the danger you pose to others, if you are already carrying the virus.

These are personal responses. And they are best supported by wider responses taken not by individuals but by government. We should be taking the only course of action which has been shown historically to help – quarantine. If you are not near other people and therefore not exposed to their coughs and sneezes, you are much less likely to catch coronavirus. That’s clear.

If you take away the route of transmission, the virus pretty soon runs out of ideas. So we should not be holding large-scale sporting events. We should not be going to concerts and theatres. We should not be going on cruise ships which are little more than giant floating petri dishes anyway – think how quickly norovirus goes round a cruise ship. We should think twice about getting on public transport.

We need to take all these steps. But this won’t be achieved by individuals choosing to skip the Watford-Liverpool game. Or whatever. This requires action at governmental level. It can’t be left to individuals.

It needs strong leadership and courage to think the unthinkable, to endorse extremes. China is showing the way on how to treat this outbreak. Sure the measures seem Draconian. Civil liberties are being flouted in the battle against coronavirus. There are restrictions on movement, forced quarantine and heaven knows what else. Extreme problems call for extreme solutions. But they’re working.

Normally I would be the first to cry ‘foul’. The first to complain about the loss of freedoms. But these are not normal times. Civil liberties are all very well but not when staring down the barrel of a gun. The preservation of civil liberties is of course admirable. But it may well come at the expense of a much higher death toll. And nothing erodes your freedom quite like being dead. For the moment, pragmatic survival beats principled extinction. This isn’t Braveheart.

As I write, and I can’t quite believe I’m saying this, I think we need to brace ourselves for some remarkable approaches to disease management. I’m pretty sure they won’t be attractive. I’m pretty sure they will seem extreme and we may question whether we are in a democracy. But they might, with our cooperation, just possibly help. I don’t think they will turn the tide against the virus but they might, just might, slow it down sufficiently that our health services can cope. They might even buy us the time to develop a vaccine. If not, they will be swept away in the wave of infection that follows. We have to fight.

Prefer to bury your head in the sand? That’s your choice. I prefer to think and to write about what I see as a global health emergency. I don’t believe one should panic – panic is counter-productive – but I do think one should be anxious. Also steadfast and determined.

Besides we haven’t got the time to panic. We face a stark choice. And we face it not next week, not tomorrow, but right now. The enemy stands unseen at our door.

But we are not powerless. We can take actions, both personal and wider, to minimise the risk to ourselves and to others. We’ve been here before. In 1940 all seemed lost. But actions taken by individuals and by governments combined to fight off the threat. The more you look at it, the more we can resist. In bacteriological terms, we really will fight them on the beaches.

The long unwinding road

Essays on Parkinson’s, research, advocacy travel and more by gentleman neuroscientist Dr Jon Stamford

Before you get the wrong idea, may I say that this is not explicitly a book about Parkinson’s. There is a whole bundle more stuff in it than that. Parkinson’s is a theme certainly – I have Parkinson’s and with the best will in the world it’s hard to shake off its influence on my daily life. But the book goes much beyond there. I have divided the book broadly into three years. This is mainly to give a context to some of the more ephemeral pieces that would otherwise not make sense such as the piece on Brexit in 2016. That probably gives you also a clear understanding that there will be some politics amongst the pieces. Don’t be put off. I have balanced it with other less knuckle whitening subjects. There is also a distinct whiff of nostalgia in some of the pieces as I recall my Yorkshire roots. And as if that was not enough on its own, I’ve even treated you, dear reader, to some of my thoughts on Wagner’s music. You lucky people.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/jon-stamford/the-long-unwinding-road/paperback/product-24393958.html

The greatest story ever told?

The Wagner scholar and philosopher Brian Magee once stated that great music was music greater than it could be performed, or words to that effect. In essence his thesis was that the music was greater than could be mirrored in a single performance. There were many different ways of interpreting the music, each equally valid, but none representing more than a partial view of the work.

Nowhere is this more true than in the work of Richard Wagner in general and, specifically in his colossal masterpiece Der Ring des Nibelungen. Even by the standards of Richard Wagner, and he wrote some very large operas, the Ring is monumental. A trilogy of operas with a preparatory vorabend, the work is on an unprecedented scale. The vorabend itself, 150 minutes without an interval, is longer than most operas. Most think of it as a tetralogy.

In the 140 years since its premiere at Bayreuth in 1876, no work has been more analysed, interpreted, misinterpreted, championed, vilified, adored, hated or studied than the Ring. One thing it has never been is ignored. Wagner’s music and especially that of this tetralogy stands as a monolith over the 19th-century, influencing philosophy, drama, music and politics ever since.

The music of Wagner has been adopted, or more accurately misappropriated, by politicians to their own end. Especially right-wing politicians. And there is no sadder association in this respect than with the ideology of Adolf Hitler. Wagner was no right-wing politician. He espoused left-wing ideals and revolution. Apart from his lamentable anti-Semitism, his politics were allied more with the left than the right. And even his anti-Semitism came second to art – the world premiere of Parsifal was conducted by Hermann Levi.

It is one of the greatest tragedies of mankind that a deluded Austrian corporal should have built his own perverted ideology on the flaws rather than the strengths of Wagner’s character. His mistaken grasp of Wagner’s key philosophy destroyed an entire world order. We should not be surprised that our perception of Wagner is tainted by this association.

Normally I would not discuss politics in the context of opera but the Ring is such political opera that it is impossible to ignore. At one level the tetralogy is a gigantic fairytale saga of gods, men, giants, dragons, dwarves and heroism. And the operas survive perfectly well as nothing more than that. It is easy to stage a production of the Ring that concentrates on the magic and good old-fashioned storytelling. For many, that is the way into the world of the Ring, an easy way of dipping one’s toes into the visual and sound world of Wagner.

But the Ring is so much more than fairytale. The Ring is a political drama. Alliances are forged, truths are told, friendships are betrayed on the altar of expediency, power is widely used and equally abused. The events of this mighty drama, stripped of their winged helmets and horns, are as relevant today as ever. The drama of Gotterdammerung has been played out in Bosnia, in Somalia, Rwanda and elsewhere. The Ring is as meaningful today as ever.

The Ring is also an exploration of human psychology. How are human beings motivated to take one course of action over another? What drives and urges determine action? How do people balance short-term and long-term benefit? Do human beings truly behave altruistically? Where does personal benefit end and collective good begin? How are choices made and factors weighed? All of this and more forms part of the fabric of the Ring.

Interwoven throughout this complex fabric of fairytale and politics is a very human story of love in its many facets. There is love at its most conventional, represented by marriage, on the one hand. There is the forbidden physical love of brother and sister. And there are all points in between. The Ring is as much an exploration of love as anything else.

To regard this tetralogy as somehow irrelevant to our current times is to betray, at worst, a fundamental lack of understanding of the work or, at best, a disinterest in life and its many features. There is no work of modern art to parallel Der Ring des Nibelungen.