The Times - UK (2020-10-15)

24 2GR KM Thursday October 15 2020 | the times

Comment

F

ive years ago I wrote a

report for the Centre for

Social Justice about the

scourge of modern slavery. I

argued that human slavery

and trafficking were a bigger

problem than a lot of people realised,

and that the state needed to take it

more seriously, not least to make

sure that law-enforcement agencies

and others were sufficiently aware of

the problem. I wrote that they

“should pursue more proactive

investigations into modern slavery

crime”. I’m proud that the cause was

taken up by Theresa May, first as

home secretary and later as prime

minister. As a result of her

determination, awareness of modern

slavery is much greater today, and

many of the vulnerable people who

would previously have become its

victims are now living lives of

freedom and dignity.

We called it modern slavery to

concentrate people’s minds and to

make it a more tangible thing than

human trafficking which, we felt,

failed to convey fully the exploitation

involved in this cruel trade. It also

helped to build massive cross-party

support for the 2015 Modern Slavery

Act, which gave police and the courts

tougher powers to go after slave

gangmasters and seize their assets,

and established an anti-slavery

commissioner to shine a light on this

long-neglected area of crime.

A report by the Independent

Commission for Aid Impact, which

scrutinises the effectiveness of public

spending on aid, yesterday criticised

the term modern slavery, arguing

that it provoked a backlash among

countries with a history of

colonialism. The watchdog said that

Britain alienated nations that were

already tackling this problem and

that, as a result, the performance of

our £240 million-a-year effort was

“unsatisfactory”.

Perhaps in hindsight calling it

modern slavery was always going to

cause difficulties in cross-border and

international co-operation. The US

followed us by adopting the term but

the rest of Europe still refers to it as

“trafficking in people”. But while any

area of government spending can

come in for criticism, I stand by our

efforts to raise the profile of modern

slavery. By expending political capital

on it, we demonstrated that the only

way to change anything in this

barbaric trade is by having a serious,

multi-agency, and international

response. Critics should look beyond

terminology to hard facts.

Fiona Hill was an adviser to Theresa

May, 2010-2014, and joint chief of staff

at No 10, 2016-2017

The way to change

this barbaric trade is a

multi-agency approach

I’ve been left

up the Creek

without a

decent joke

Janice Turner Notebook

Covid lockdowns turn loneliness into a killer

The twin focus on virus deaths and the economy ignores the hidden strain on mental health

the reasons that anti-lockdowners

cite. A colleague of mine recently

returned from Stockholm. Like

others, she remarked on how much

more relaxed it felt over there

compared with Britain and how

strange it was to see people without

masks. But what struck me most is

that their quarantine period is much

shorter than those in force in the rest

of the world: seven days, and only if

you live with someone who has

tested positive. Partly this is

because people are less infectious

in the second week but it’s also

designed to limit the negative effects

of quarantine. Isolation is rightly

seen as something to be avoided as

much as possible.

Of course, it would help if we had

a better track-and-trace system. But

unlike in March, we now have a

better sense of the virus. We have the

Nightingale hospitals. It’s unlikely

that a “circuit-breaker” lockdown,

even if it were fully adhered to,

would be a one-off: it would come

and go, and people would ricochet

between isolation and brief moments

of semi-normality.

As trust in government continues

to diminish and as infection rates

climb, morale is going to fall further.

Loneliness, in turn, has long-term

health effects. And this time, spring

is not just around the corner.

Emma Hogan writes for The Economist

outbreaks, such as Sars or H1N1,

suggest that, in some cases, having

been quarantined leads to post-

traumatic stress symptoms.

Lockdown in the spring was not

traumatic for me. I did not lose my

job; I was not put on furlough. The

most vulnerable member of my

family, currently in palliative care,

was hospitalised twice yet,

miraculously, did not catch the virus.

I live by a large patch of greenery in

London which I could get out on

most days. But even so, as someone

who lives by myself, I found it

terribly hard at various points, as

the time since I’d seen my loved

ones or friends in person stretched

from days, to weeks, to months.

Their pixelated faces were a comfort

but no replacement for the real

thing.

If Boris Johnson capitulates to a

strict “circuit-breaker” lockdown, he

and his government need to

remember that people live in other

ways than just the standard family

unit. Much of the evidence suggests

that the main place for transmission

is households. People living alone are

much less likely to be vectors of the

disease. In the event of a second

lockdown they should be granted

much greater freedom because

of the increased strain on their

mental health.

New Zealand introduced support

bubbles for people who lived alone

from the beginning, not just after the

restrictions started to be loosened, as

we did in Britain. So far, the bubble

structure has remained part of the

government’s plans: it should stay

that way.

Second, look to Sweden but not for

I

t all feels drearily familiar. From

next Monday, in Italy, private

parties of more than ten people

are likely to be banned. Tougher

restrictions are being mooted

elsewhere. At home, the stand-off

between Boris Johnson and his

scientific advisers over a “circuit-

breaker” lockdown is eerily

reminiscent of March, when it was

still novel to see scientists on the

telly, when lavatory rolls were in

ample supply and before government

sloganeering descended into the

absurd postmodernism of: “Hands.

Face. Space.”

I’m not a complete lockdown

sceptic. You won’t find me suggesting

that my single friends join Toby

Young’s dating site “Love in a Covid

Climate” for those who won’t

snog anyone who thinks being

cautious over a novel virus might

be a good idea.

But when Chris Whitty said this

week that the approach to Covid-19

was about balancing two harms —

“a harm for society and the economy

on the one hand, and a harm for

health on the other hand” — I felt

something was missing in the debate

over a second national lockdown.

In the first phase of battling this

virus in the spring it was natural that

the emphasis was on saving lives

from Covid-19 at all costs. In the

second phase, however, we need to

be more open about the trade-offs.

Mental health, and in particular

loneliness, needs to be part of the

equation too.

On the face of it, it’s harder to

measure the impact of loneliness

than it is to watch the number of

Covid cases rise or the

unemployment rate tick up. Yet a

growing body of research suggests

that loneliness — and its flipside,

how many friends you have and the

quality of those friendships — affects

wellbeing and even our risk of dying.

Most humans need physical touch,

moments of tangible affection

that cannot be recreated through

Zoom. According to Robin Dunbar at

the University of Oxford, the positive

effects of friendship can even be

traced in female baboons: those who

have more grooming partners have

lower levels of the stress hormone

cortisol, more offspring and live

for longer.

Countless surveys have shown

what many of us know: that the

pandemic has already worsened

people’s mental health. Women and

working mothers are particularly

likely to say they are finding it hard

to stay positive. Young people,

between 18 and 24 years old, are also

more likely to say that they are

finding it tough.

Studies from earlier viral

Working mothers are

likely to say they find

it hard to stay positive

We should be proud

of our work to wipe

out modern slavery

Fiona Hill

W

hen Schitt’s Creek

won nine Emmys, I

thought: Fantastic!

Six whole series of

hilarity to watch

instead of going to bed after

Newsnight wanting to open a vein. So

I tried this tale of gazillionaires who

lose their fortune and end up with

their spoilt adult kids living in a

Hicksville motel.

I gave it a chance. I really did. But

the characters were cartoon rich

people: the mother screeching about

her Birkin bags, the gay son an

“OMG, this place doesn’t even have a

spa!” camp cliché. Every joke can be

seen lumbering across the hills from

many miles away: when the mayor

uses their motel bathroom, of course

he stinks it out.

What were the Emmy judges

thinking? Perhaps Covid lowered our

collective IQ and anything is better

than news full of nice northern

publicans weeping about sacking

their staff. That would explain Emily

in Paris, which in normal times

would require someone to trepan

your head and suck out your frontal

lobe. Now it’s the TV equivalent of

sucking your thumb.

“Skip series one,” said a Schitt-

loving friend. So I began series two.

The rich idiots are still screeching in

their motel! “It’s a grower,” said

another Schitter, “it gets really good

in series five.” It’s a lot of stony-faced

hours to suffer in pursuit of a

laugh. I fear I may live 1,000

years and still find Schitt’s

Creek the metropolitan Mrs

Brown’s Boys.

Ticket to queue

I’

ve felt lately that

there is a tipping

point at which

something you crave to do

becomes such a Covid

palaver you wish you hadn’t

bothered. A case in point

is the National Gallery

exhibition of the 17th-

century Italian artist

Artemisia Gentileschi,

which I’ve been looking

forward to all year.

First, you book a

time slot months

ahead. Next, you queue

outside — for us in the

pouring rain — well

beyond your allotted hour.

Then you swipe your barcode ticket

and are herded down to the horrible

dungeon gallery, where you queue to

swipe your barcode again.

(Attendants barking if you stand in the

wrong spot.)

Then you queue to enter the first

room. After that, I thought we’d be

free — albeit masked — to enjoy the

art. Except you had to

queue to be allowed

into every subsequent

room. When I retraced

my steps to find my

husband, I was barked

at again. The only

room you don’t queue

for is the gift shop,

which sold items like

overpriced renderings

of earrings worn by

Judith as she hacks off

Holofernes’s head.

Weighing pleasure

versus hassle, Artemisia

won, but only just.

The art of rage

A

lthough not a

great artist,

Artemisia is a

great story. Raped at

17 and tortured in a

court to prove she was

telling the truth

(these days she’d just

be trolled on social

media) her work

became an outlet for her rage against

men. Judith grips Holofernes’s hair

ruthlessly as she slices his throat. In

another painting, the Israelite wife

Jael swings a mallet to drive a tent

peg into the skull of sleeping Sisera.

Artemisia knew collectors got a

special thrill from a woman creating

such gruesome work. She painted

many ever-more-swaggering Judiths,

always accompanied by her maid

servant carrying Holofernes’s head in

a basket: like an Old Testament

Thelma & Louise.

I’m reminded how much of the

most bloody popular crime fiction is

now written by women like Val

McDermid, Sophie Hannah and Mo

Hayder, who I once interviewed and

whose scenes of elaborate torture I

could barely read. She said she

portrayed grotesque violence

unflinchingly “to face it down”.

Perhaps Artemisia did the same.

Sex and death

I

n Soho I came across tiny walk-in

shops containing vending

machines selling every pattern of

cloth facemask. Previously these

dark kiosks sold porn, erotic aids and

condoms. You have to marvel at the

amazing shapeshifting genius of

capitalism: where once sex drove

sales, it’s now death.

@victoriapeckham

It seems unlikely that

any ‘circuit-breaker’

would be a one-off

Emma

Hogan

@hoganem