My parents tell us stories about their experiences of the war, for instance about when German bombers pounded our hometown of Swansea for three consecutive nights, mostly missing the strategic target of the docks, and instead flattening a large part of the town centre. My mother huddled in a bomb shelter with her whanau and neighbours, singing and joking as the bombs fell, and the ground shook. They emerged one morning to find half of their street gone, including the house shared by her aunts and grandparents. Happily, none of the family was killed, but the initial camaraderie, as those in the surviving houses took in their less fortunate neighbours, was inevitably followed by dislocation. People moved away, and life was never the same again.

Scenes of Christchurch after the earthquakes were reminiscent of images of bombed cities during the war, and there too, the initial coming together, as good people helped each other out, has been followed by fatigue, hardship for many, and the breakup of neighbourhoods and communities.

New Zealand has now been caught up in a global crisis, which is leaving scarcely any part of the world untouched, and which is predicted to have ongoing effects perhaps for years to come. This is prompting debate about the best political and economic responses to the virus and its aftermath.

The actual and potential social and psychological impacts of the pandemic are receiving similar attention. In New Zealand and elsewhere, people are facing unprecedented social restrictions in order to combat the spread of Covid-19. Instead of huddling together in bomb shelters, we are required to isolate and distance ourselves from others as never before.

In recent years there has been growing concern about the loneliness created by our modern way of life, and its effects on health and wellbeing, and health spending. Vivek Murthy, former US surgeon general writes about the potential for a worsening social recession in the wake of the virus, as restrictions on social interaction cause our “social muscle” to atrophy. This is reminiscent of Camus’s description in “La Peste” of the emotional effects for people living in a town isolated during an outbreak of plague. He writes of the “the gnawing pain of separation” followed in time by a deadening of sensibilities, and describes the people as “wasting away emotionally as well as physically”.  

In the UK, a multidisciplinary group of experts have published a position paper in The Lancet on the need for a research strategy to understand the neurological, psychological and social effects of Covid-19 on people who have had the virus, on vulnerable groups, and on the general population. The aim is to understand what interventions are needed to mitigate harm both in the current situation, and during future pandemics. In New Zealand funding has been allocated for research into the mental health effects of the pandemic.

I am one of many New Zealanders who live alone and have been isolating in a bubble of one. For me the lockdown has been a mixed experience. The lack of opportunity to socialize has felt like permission to enjoy peace and solitude, and I’ve been touched by the many people who have contacted me “to see if you’re alright?” At the same time, it’s been confronting to realise that they view me and my situation as vulnerable.

But, yes, there have been moments. A visit from my daughter on the day before lockdown brought a lump to my throat. The few miles between her flat and my home meant that I would not see her again until the restrictions lifted – a thought made worse by memories of the supermarket the day before with stressed people walking dazedly along the depleted aisles, as we all wondered how bad this might get.

Technology is offering opportunities to work and connect but can also create stress and isolation. A friend with hearing difficulties commented that family get-together’s on Zoom increase her sense of loneliness as she is unable to follow the conversation in a larger group. I was also left feeling isolated and frustrated when technical problems meant that I could hear, but not be heard during Zoom meetings for work. Not surprisingly we have seen a proliferation during lockdown of media articles on “Zoom fatigue” and how to combat it.

By and large though, my end-of-day diary over the past few weeks is a list of things that have made me feel both grateful, and lucky:

• To be living in New Zealand.
• To have work and an income.
• To have family and friends who care about me, and the means to stay in contact with them.
• To be fit enough to enjoy walks on the streets, tracks, and hills of my suburb.
• To hear birdsong from the bush reserve opposite my house uninterrupted by other sounds.

For many New Zealanders, though, this has not been the case. For some life under lockdown has been isolating, stressful, and in some instances, dangerous. Many have lost jobs and income, others have become ill, and some have lost loved ones or their own lives.

The current situation has highlighted the disadvantage and vulnerability of people both in New Zealand and overseas without access to the internet or the devices and skills needed to use it. This is affecting people across age groups, from school children needing to learn at home, to older people unable to manage transactions or to stay in touch with family and friends. The lockdown has also exacerbated or created tensions within some bubbles that have led to a significant increase in domestic violence calls to NZ police, and calls to Age Concerns about Elder Abuse.

Nonetheless, stats and news coverage from other parts of the world make it clear that those of us living in New Zealand are relatively lucky. Here, our government has responded to the pandemic with an evidence-based plan, has communicated clearly with the public, has put economic measures in place to support businesses and employment, and has modelled calm and kindness. This has been effective so far in limiting the spread of the virus.

At community level, it’s been heart-warming to hear about many instances of volunteers, neighbours, and friends reaching out to help others. Our local Age Concerns have had a huge surge in volunteer enquiries, which has enabled them to increase support to older people needing practical help or someone to talk to. Willing volunteers have also enabled other non-profit organisations to respond to gaps in support The Student Volunteer Army, for example, launched a new service during the lockdown to deliver groceries and prescriptions to vulnerable people unable to get out to do their own shopping.

We are also seeing examples of generosity from the business community, either to respond to immediate needs, or to build capacity for weathering future emergencies. One example that caused out team at Age Concern New Zealand to whoop with delight was a grant of $500,000 from ANZ New Zealand to enable us to partner with other organisations to increase digital literacy amongst older New Zealanders.

As we emerge from lockdown, and begin to live through the longer-term effects of the pandemic, it will be important to reflect and learn from this experience, to continue to look out for those who are struggling, and to respond with generosity and kindness.

In the conclusion to “The Great Influenza”, his meticulously researched account of the pandemic that swept through a war-ravaged world in 2018, author John M. Barry writes:

“Society cannot function if it is every man for himself. By definition, civilization cannot survive that.”

A recorded Zoom session in which the author discusses concerns of older women during Covid-19 lockdown is available here.