Rachel Malik

My mother would say, simply and unmelodramatically, to anyone she knew well, that she wanted to die: ‘I’ve had enough’; ‘I’ve had a good life’; ‘It’s enough now.’ We watched the first Commons debate on the Assisted Dying Bill introduced by Kim Leadbeater last October. It was a strange experience. And even though the bill in its current form didn’t apply to my mother and she knew it, it allowed me to say uncomplicatedly that I knew what she wanted, that I thought she should have the right to die, and that I would probably want the same thing in the same circumstances.

Sunak would put the country on ‘crisis-footing’; Truss promises an emergency budget and an orgy of deregulation. The number of rhetorical promises has been giddying, starting with the list of adversaries against whom they have vowed to do battle: China, migrants, Vladimir Putin, civil servants, people who don’t love Britain, naysayers, especially Muslims, civil servants, Nicola Sturgeon, unions and equalities legislation. Both candidates insist they have the measure of the struggle ahead. Sunak will do ‘whatever it takes’. Truss will ‘do whatever it takes to get the job done’.

It would be nice to think that such statements, like the weekly ‘clap for our carers’, acknowledged the value of affective labour. But when work is characterised as a set of exceptional actions or feelings – sacrifice, heroism, selflessness, going ‘above and beyond’ – the question of pay, or economic and social security, can be avoided. On Radio 4’s Westminster Hour on Sunday, Kit Malthouse, the justice minister, said that he hoped the crisis would foster the development of care work as a credentialised, ‘desirable, professional career’. Would there be more pay, he was asked. ‘Possibly,’ he replied. Like the ‘care badge’ proposed by Hancock (one of the most toe-curling government micro-responses to the pandemic), the great thing about praise and thanks is that they don’t need to come with guarantees of anything else.

‘The right measures at the right time’ has been a mantra of ministers and sanctioned experts: sensible, uncontroversial. But the government has undermined its own timelines and its own priorities. It has talked up increases in testing – ‘rolling it out’, ‘ramping it up’ – but at the weekend a significant gap appeared between ministerial claim and reality. Michael Gove said in his Sunday morning interviews that the target of 10,000 tests per day was being met; but on Saturday, it turned out, only 8278 tests were carried out on 4908 patients.

On Monday, news channels showed Matt Hancock moving boxes of personal protective equipment from a warehouse to a truck. He admitted that there had been a problem with distribution. Last Thursday evening, a London hospital had to declare a ‘critical incident’ after running out of critical care beds. Social media streams are filled with reports from paramedics about missing equipment and sharing masks. Spain meanwhile (to take one example) has ordered 640,000 testing kits from China. International comparisons have become an inevitable part of the response and interpretation of the crisis. Should Britain continue along its own peculiar furrow or be more like Italy, France, Germany, China or South Korea? Also from Spain, there are disturbing reports of residents being left ‘dead and abandoned’ in at least three care homes. Where are we going?