of government. “What I would say is that
people I’ve worked with, whether politicians
or civil servants or scientists, have all had a
really strong desire in their own ways to try
to do the very best they can for the country.”
Have scientists’ views always been heard?
“All around the world governments have
had to make difficult choices. There were
no easy choices left after about two weeks.
Every government around the world has
struggled to make hard, hard decisions. But
have [scientists] been listened to? Yes.”
I ask whether the government tried to
deflect any blame for what was happening
by sticking to its “follow the science”,
mantra but get told: “That sounds like a
political question that you’re asking. I don’t
think I’ve got an opinion on that.”
I bet he does, just not one he’s able to
share in front of the four minders, who
appear as faceless eggs at the bottom of my
screen. So instead I ask him what it’s like
being elevated to a cult symbol. “I’ve been
touched by the amount of public support
I’ve had,” he says. “And that has been ... um,
enjoyable isn’t quite the right word. But yes,
it’s been touching to see that. But it wasn’t
what I expected. It wasn’t what I did the
DCMO role for. And really I’d like to just go
back to a normal life as soon as possible.”
Home life is in a village near Boston,
Lincolnshire, where he grew up; he lives
with his wife, Karen, a former nurse, and
their two teenage sons. Their older
daughter, who is in her early twenties, has
moved out. Any finer details are off limits.
He is protective of them, especially after he
was verbally abused in June by an anti-
vaccine protester who called him a “traitor”
who would end up in prison for “genocide”.
Despite that incident, he doesn’t think
the UK struggles with anti-vaccine views.
“There will always be a proportion of any
society who are resistant to vaccines but in
the UK that is very low indeed. There are far
more vaccine-hesitant people than there
are vaccine-resistant, but there are far, far,
far more vaccine-accepting people.
Confidence grows in the programme all the
time as the numbers of people who are
successfully and safely vaccinated go up and
we see the consequences of managing the
disease levels by vaccination. So I think one
shouldn’t get too anxious about these
things — just give it time and it will come.”
Van-Tam has been doing more than his
bit on the vaccine front. As well as lobbying
teenagers to get jabbed, telling a press
conference in August he’d be in favour of
his sons getting vaccinated if they were old
enough, he swaps his suits for scrubs to give
jabs when he can, ideally once a week. I tell
him I’ve also been vaccinating people, for
St John’s Ambulance, and have found it
rewarding. “For me, it’s been quite cathartic
as well,” he says. When he realised salvation
via syringe was a reality, he says, “I came
down the stairs to my family and said,
‘We’ve done it. We’ve finally got vaccinesof Elizabeth before they became a couple.
Van-Tam credits his father’s southeast
Asian roots for giving him “reverence for
education and learning, respect for elders,
gentleness of mind and spirit” — as well as
the importance of doing the right thing by
children, one of the reasons he took on the
RI Christmas lectures. “I guess it’s quite
southeast Asian, but I’ve always been struck
by the fact that the next generation are
more important than we are and if you have
that kind of mindset then you pick up that
sense of mission that whatever you do in
life, it’s important to leave a legacy. And to
pass on skills and ambitions and motivation
and desire to the next generation.”
Then there is the legacy left by his paternal
grandfather, Nguyen Van Tam. “My grandad
was prime minister of South Vietnam when
it was a French protectorate, back in the
1950s. I think he retired from political life
when the French pulled out [in 1954].”
Jonathan used to visit his grandparents in
Paris, where they lived in exile, first with his
parents and, later “on my own, making the
trip from Boston by coach, rail and
hovercraft, unaccompanied, aged 12”.
They could communicate a little —
“My French is not bad” — but he says his
grandfather didn’t pass down any vivid
stories from that tumultuous period in
Vietnamese history — for instance, about
how he got his nickname: the Tiger of Cai
Lay, for his brutal suppression of
communist revolutionary groups in the
Mekong Delta in the 1930s. “He didn’t
speak much English, so it was relatively
difficult to communicate with him. He was
just a smiley old grandad, really,” Van-Tam
says. He died in 1990 at the age of 97.
The young Jonathan’s sense of duty
kicked in early, spurred by having two
parents who were teachers. His mother,
who will be 80 in January, worked in
primary schools and his father was a“I CAME DOWN THE STAIRS TO
MY FAMILY AND SAID, WE’VE
DONE IT. WE’VE FINALLY GOT
VACCINES ON THE WAY.” DID
YOU CRY? “STRAIGHT UP, YES”
on the way.’ That was before the public
announcement and before the national
celebration of Margaret Keenan [the first
person in the world to receive the jab, on
December 8, 2020]. One of those private,
celebratory moments when I felt, ‘Blimey,
all that effort and toil by so many people in
the Vaccine Taskforce and we’ve got it over
the line.’ It’s only the beginning of the end
but the end has to begin somewhere and
that was the beginning of the end.”
Did you cry? “Yeah, yeah. Straight up, yes.”
Being on the jabbing front line had
another upside. He got to vaccinate some of
his heroes: players for his beloved Boston
United. Van-Tam’s commitment to the club,
who play in the National League North, the
sixth tier of English football, perhaps says
more than anything about his capacity for
loyalty. He has supported the Pilgrims since
his maternal grandfather first took him to a
match at the age of seven; they would cycle
the seven-mile round trip to the old ground
in the centre of Boston. He lights up
remembering the joy of being at the first
match after the March 2020 lockdown.
He was born in Boston in February 1964
to Elizabeth, who is British and Paul,
a Vietnamese-French citizen and a penpalVan-Tam administers the Covid-19 vaccine
to Matt Hancock, then health secretary,
at the Science Museum last DecemberEYEVINE
The Sunday Times Magazine • 9