The Economist - USA (2021-02-13)

The Economist February 13th 2021 Business 63

I

t has beena year since the pandemic

started to affect Western societies.

Here is how one columnist coped as the

months unfolded.

February/March: In the beginning,

all was confusion. In the early stages a

“last days of Saigon” feel pervaded the

city centre. The trains and offices became

steadily less crowded; more and more

shops closed for lack of staff. Parents

turned into hunter-gatherers, desperate-

ly foraging in the supermarket aisles for

the last supplies of pasta. Successful

scavengers’ trolleys overflowed with

rolls of toilet paper. People were braced

for dystopia.

Office workers hastily caught up on

the disaster-recovery plans they had

previously ignored and were grateful if

they were able to get a good broadband

connection. Bartleby remembered that

he had left all his research back at the

office and made a sheepish return to a

near-empty building. Heading back out

with a rucksack of books and papers, he

felt like a very nerdish barbarian partici-

pating in the sack of Rome.

April: Some individuals were still

struggling to master Zoom etiquette.

Faced with an editorial meeting on a

bank holiday, Bartleby combined it with

a soothing river walk. At some point, his

phone (while still in his pocket) became

unmuted, meaning that his heavy trudge,

and heavy breathing, was audible to

every other participant on the call. In

blissful ignorance, he returned home to a

blizzard of emails, tweets and WhatsApp

messages telling him to shut up. Sure

enough, “you’re on mute” and “please

mute yourself” became the breakout

phrases of 2020.

May: Perhaps the best month of the

lockdown. The British weather was good,

with the sunniest spring on record,

making it possible to work in the garden.

The novelty of working from home had yet

to wear off, and the absence of the daily

commute was still a blessing. 

June: A “Groundhog Day” syndrome

had set in. Every day seemed the same;

weekends lost their meaning. The main

dilemma for the month was whether to

cancel the summer holiday, or to hold on

in the hope that the decline in covid-19

cases was permanent. The prospect of any

break in routine seemed absurdly alluring.

July: Foreign holiday cancelled. Start to

fantasise about ways of shortening Zoom

meetings. How about a countdown clock,

like the ones on television game shows, as

speakers approach the one-minute mark,

with a loud buzzer at the end? Hint to all

participants: when the person chairing the

meeting asks, “Does anyone else have any

comments?”, the correct answer is invar-

iably “No”.

August: Rain ruins short domestic

holiday. Restaurants reopen and Britons

recreate the feasts of Bacchanalia. “Eat,

drink and be merry for tomorrow we get

locked down” seems to be the (prescient)

motto. Meetings no shorter on return to

work. More extreme measures clearly

required: a mild electric shock for those

who speak for more than two minutes?

Or the “raise hand” button could be

converted into a “thumbs down” func-

tion. If more than half the participants

press it, the speaker is cut off.

September: Just as The Economist

organises weekly in-person gatherings

so staff can start the process of returning

to work, cases begin to rise. Tip for read-

ers: if Bartleby is invited to a summer

party in 2021, it is a sign of the impend-

ing apocalypse.

October: Head back to now-empty

office to pick up more books. Feel like

archaeologist analysing ancient civ-

ilisation. In this era, humans sat in glass

booths so they could be observed at all

times. They also gathered in “meeting

rooms” to take part in religious ceremonies

conducted by a priest known as the “man-

ager”, who recited a long list of meaningless

tasks penitents must undertake.

November: British government im-

poses new national lockdown on No-

vember 5th. From this year on, the date

will no longer be commemorated as “Guy

Fawkes night” but as “Boris Johnson

day”. All citizens will celebrate by wear-

ing masks, washing their hands obses-

sively and avoiding their neighbours.

December: The house has lights, and

a tree. But the real meaning of Christmas

now becomes clear: no more Zoom meet-

ings for at least a week. Not just silent

nights, but silent days as well.

January: The vaccines are on their

way to save us. Perhaps at some point in

2021 Bartleby will be back on the London

underground, crammed in like a sardine

while waiting for the platform to clear at

Earl’s Court. Suddenly, social isolation

doesn’t seem so bad after all.

A columnist confronts the pandemic

BartlebyDiary of a plague year

the buyers, the bankers and officials in-
volved were hauled before the authorities
and grilled about selling too cheaply. Ms
Sitharaman’s announcement has already
led to an outcry from Mr Modi’s political
opponents, for whom state ownership of
the economy’s commanding heights is a
point of pride—never mind that those
heights look distinctly unHimalayan.
Government officials have been meet-
ing business groups to say this time is dif-
ferent. People close to those encounters
say the effort could be charitably described
as sloppy. But that it is being done at all

suggests a degree of sincerity on the part of

Mr Modi’s administration that previous ef-

forts lacked. The reason is India’s covid-

battered finances. Without the $24bn Ms

Sitharaman hopes to raise from the asset

sales, the central government’s fiscal gap

would expand from about 9.5% to 12% of

gdp, putting India’s sovereign rating at

greater risk of a downgrade.

Between lic and Bharat Petroleum,

which has a market capitalisation of $12bn

and is half-owned by the state, the govern-

ment could be two-thirds of the way to-

wards its goal, bankers in Mumbai report.

An accounting firm has been engaged to

prepare lic’s books, a necessary first step

for a planned initial public offering. Tata

Sons, a big conglomerate, is said to be in-

terested in Air India, which it used to own

before nationalisation in the 1950s. Three

bidders have their eyes on Bharat, includ-

ing two global private-equity funds.

The first buyer in the new era of privati-

sation could be inadvertent. There is some

speculation that the cash-strapped govern-

ment may grant Cairn Energy, a British

firm, a state-owned oilfield as part of a set-

tlement over retroactive taxes.