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How did Britain get its response to Coronavirus so wrong?
As the warnings grew louder, the government was distracted by Brexit. On testing, contact tracing and equipment supply, there was a failure to prepare by Toby Helm, Emma Graham-Harrison & Robin McKie in The Guardian
By late December last year, doctors in the central Chinese city of Wuhan were starting to worry about patients quarantined in their hospitals suffering from an unusual type of pneumonia.
As the mystery illness spread in one of China’s major industrial hubs, some tried to warn their colleagues to take extra care at work, because the disease resembled Sars (severe acute respiratory syndrome), the deadly respiratory disease that had killed hundreds of people across the region in 2002-03 after a government cover-up.
One of those who tried to raise the alarm, though only among a few medical school classmates, was a 33-year-old Chinese ophthalmologist, Li Wenliang. Seven people were in isolation at his hospital, he said, and the disease appeared to be a coronavirus, from the same family as Sars.
In early January he was called in by police, reprimanded for “spreading rumours online”, and forced to sign a paper acknowledging his “misdemeanour” and promising not to repeat it.
Many early cases were linked to the city’s Huanan seafood and fresh produce market, which also sold wildlife, suggesting that the first cases were contracted there.
FacebookTwitterPinterest The Wuhan hygiene emergency response team leave the closed Huanan seafood wholesale market on 11 January. Photograph: Noel Celis/AFP via Getty Images
Scientists would discover the disease had probably originated in bats and had then passed through a second species – in all likelihood, but not certainly, pangolins, a type of scaly anteater – before infecting humans.
But the infections were soon spreading directly between patients, so fast that on 23 January the government announced an unprecedented lockdown of Wuhan city and the surrounding Hubei province.
Two weeks later, on 7 February, Li, who had contracted coronavirus himself, died in hospital from the condition about which he had tried to raise the alarm. He had no known underlying conditions and left behind a wife and young child.
Li became the face of the mysterious new disease. The story of his death and pictures of him in a hospital bed wearing an oxygen mask made media headlines across the globe, including in the UK.
The world, it seemed, was slowly becoming more aware of how lethal coronavirus could be, that it was not just another form of flu with fairly mild symptoms.
But while UK scientists and medical researchers were becoming more concerned, and studying the evidence from China, those among them who were most worried were not getting their messages through to high places.
Distracted by Brexit and reshuffles
The Conservative government of Boris Johnson had other more immediate preoccupations at the start of this year.
Johnson was still basking in his general election success last December. After he returned from a celebratory Caribbean holiday with his fiancee, Carrie Symonds, the political weather for the prime minister seemed to be set fair. It was honeymoon time.
Three and a half years on from the Brexit referendum, the UK was finally about to leave the EU on 31 January. The fireworks and parties for the big night were being planned, the celebratory 50p coins minted.
Minds were certainly not on a developing health emergency far away, as Johnson prepared to exploit the moment of the UK’s departure from the European Union for all it was worth. “I think there was some over-confidence,” admitted one very senior Tory last week.
The prime minister and his chief adviser, Dominic Cummings, wanted to make an early impression at home in other ways too, as domestic reformers. Cummings was waging a war on civil servants in Whitehall, throwing his weight around and deliberately upsetting the Westminster applecart.
While he made the headlines, briefing about his iconoclastic ambitions, Johnson was preparing a big Cabinet reshuffle to assert his own authority in other areas now Brexit was done and dusted.
With Labour effectively leaderless after its fourth consecutive election defeat, there was little opposition to trouble Johnson on any front at all – and certainly no-one of note asking tough questions about coronavirus.
The prime minister duly recast his cabinet team on 13 February – five days after Li’s death in Wuhan. He made big changes but unsurprisingly retained the hitherto safe pair of hands of Matt Hancock as his health secretary.
FacebookTwitterPinterest Boris Johnson speaking about the EU on 3 February. Photograph: Reuters
In a sign of where priorities lay – and the lack of concern that a potential crisis might be heading our way from the east – Hancock wasted no time recording a video of himself grinning with delight on reshuffle day.
He smacked his right fist into his left palm saying he could not wait to “get cracking” and that he relished the chance to deliver the Tories’ manifesto promises, reform social care and improve life sciences. And lastly, in a more sombre voice, he spoke of “dealing with coronavirus and keeping the public safe” before adding, as the grin returned: “Now let’s get back to work!”
It is perhaps too early to conclude for sure that Johnson, Hancock and the government’s entire team of scientific and medical advisers were caught asleep at the wheel. But the fact that Johnson and Hancock themselves, in common with much of the Downing Street staff, would go on to contract the virus or suffer symptoms, further suggests that people at the top had not been sufficiently on their guard.
Now, 11 weeks on from the first cases being confirmed in the UK on 31 January – a period during which more than 14,000 people (and probably several thousands more once care home fatalities are counted) in the UK have died from Covid-19 – and with the country in lockdown, the economy facing prolonged recession as a result, schools closed, and no sign of an end in sight – hard questions have to be asked.
We already know with some certainty that other countries, such as Germany, South Korea, Taiwan and New Zealand, will emerge from this crisis having performed far better than the UK. A few weeks ago the government’s advisers crassly said that fewer than 20,000 deaths would be “a very good result” for the UK.
As we fast approach that grim tally, many experts now believe the UK may come out of this crisis, whenever that may be, with one of the worst records on fighting coronavirus of any European nation. Once the full tally is counted, few expect the number of deaths to be below 20,000.
By contrast, on Friday, Germany was saying it thought it had brought coronavirus largely under control. It had had 3,868 deaths, less a third of the total in the UK (and Germany’s population, at 83 million, is far higher), having conducted widespread testing for Covid-19 from early on, precisely as the UK has failed to do.
How, then, did it come to this? How did coronavirus spread across the globe, prompting different responses in different countries? Did the UK simply fail to heed the warnings? Or did it just decide to take different decisions, while others settled on alternative actions to save lives?
The warnings grow louder
David Nabarro, professor of global health at Imperial College, London, and an envoy for the World Health Organization on Covid-19, says one thing is for sure. All governments were warned how serious the situation was likely to become as early as the end of January. Ignorance of the danger that was coming can be no excuse. Yet it would not be until late March – later than many other countries – that Johnson would announce a complete lockdown.
“WHO had been following the outbreak since the end of December and within a few weeks it called a meeting of its emergency committee to decide if this outbreak was a ‘public health emergency of international concern’,” said Nabarro.
“That is the highest level of alert that WHO can issue, and it issued it on January 30. It made it very clear then – to every country in the world – that we were facing something very serious indeed.”
Well before the end of January, the WHO had been tracking the growing threat minutely: 14 January was a key day in the spread of the disease that would become known as Covid-19. The first case was confirmed outside China, with a woman hospitalised in Thailand.
A WHO official warned then that it was possible that human-to-human transmission had occurred in families of victims – a sign that the disease had potential to spread far and fast – and, inside China, officials were quietly told to prepare for a pandemic.
There was little international attention on the day, though, because Beijing’s dire warnings about a pandemic were made in secret, and a WHO spokesman rowed back from his colleague’s claim.
Officially, China had not seen a new case of the coronavirus for over a week; the outbreak appeared to be fading. It took another six days for China to publicly acknowledge the gravity of the threat, time that scientists believed meant a further 3,000 people were infected.
But on 20 January, officials announced more than 100 new cases and admitted the virus was spreading between humans, a red flag for concern to anyone who works on infectious diseases. The virus could no longer be contained by finding the animal source of the infection and destroying it.
Two days later, the scale of the challenge was made clear to the general public when Beijing locked down millions of people. All transport into and out of the metropolis of Wuhan was cut off, an unprecedented modern quarantine that would come at huge human and economic cost.
On 29 January, the UK would have its first two confirmed cases of the disease. There was little sense that China’s dilemma and its approach – shut down life as we know it or watch the death toll spiral out of control – might have to be our nightmare within weeks.
In early February, Donald Trump announced a ban on travellers who had passed through China in the previous 14 days. Europe began focused testing of people with symptoms and travel histories that linked them to the disease, but little else.
Johnson, it seemed, still had Brexit and free trade much more on his mind. Any hint of draconian action to fight coronavirus that might hurt the economy was the last thing he was entertaining.
In a speech on Brexit in Greenwich on 3 February, he made clear his views on Wuhan-style lockdowns. “We are starting to hear some bizarre autarkic rhetoric,” he said.
”Humanity needs some government somewhere that is willing at least to make the case powerfully for freedom of exchange, some country ready to take off its Clark Kent spectacles and leap into the phone booth and emerge with its cloak flowing as the supercharged champion of the right of the populations of the Earth to buy and sell freely among each other.”
‘Herd immunity’: UK goes it alone
By early March it was abundantly clear to many academics and scientists that the approach being adopted by the UK was markedly different from those followed by other countries. From South Korea to Germany, governments had invested heavily in expanding testing capacity from the first weeks of the epidemic.
Hong Kong, Taiwan and Singapore had brought in controls on travellers from infected regions and strict contact tracing to help understand who could have been exposed, inform them and require self isolation. Face masks became widespread in east Asia, long before it was recommended elsewhere.
Testing and contact tracing has been at the heart of the approach advocated by the WHO, so that countries can establish how transmission chains were occurring, in order to break them.
Many also brought in some social distancing measures, banning large gatherings, closing schools or extending holidays, and encouraged those who could do to work from home. None were as extreme as China’s shutdown, or the European and American lockdowns that would follow.
Writing in the Observer last month, Devi Sridhar, chair of global public health at the University of Ediburgh, noted the distinct UK approach. “Rather than learning from other countries and following the WHO advice, which comes from experts with decades of experience in tackling outbreaks across the world, the UK has decided to follow its own path. This seems to accept that the virus is unstoppable and will probably become an annual, seasonal infection.
“The plan, as explained by the chief science adviser, is to work towards ‘herd immunity’, which is to have the majority of the population contract the virus, develop antibodies and then become immune to it. This theory has been widely used to advocate for mass vaccination for measles, mumps and rubella. The thinking is that, if most of the population is vaccinated, a small percentage can go unvaccinated without cases emerging.”
It was not just the UK whose politicians and scientific advisers were, arguably, slow to act in the early stages. Others countries, including Spain and France, were caught out too, but it was Italy’s tragedy that alerted Europe to the scale of the threat it faced.
European governments and citizens were forced to reckon with the reality that in an age of global travel, the thousands of miles separating them from China meant almost nothing at all. Thousands of Britons were holidaying in Italy the week that it shut down. They were advised to go into self-quarantine on return, but were not registered by the health authorities, nor were their contacts tracked.
Italy and the UK had both had had their first case a day apart at the end of January, but cases rose faster in Italy. The country may just have been unlucky that carriers of the disease flew to its northern cities and ski resorts rather than to other European capitals.
Whatever the reason, cases and then deaths started climbing sharply in northern Italy in late February. Dozens of towns were locked down from the 21st, but in the rest of the country life carried on as normal.
It was soon clear that the problem had not been contained. On 8 March, the prime minister, Guiseppe Conti, quarantined 16 million people across the north of the country, and the next day extended the lockdown to all of Italy.
FacebookTwitterPinterest Russian biological warfare troops, called in by the Italian authorities, disinfect the Pope John Paul I care home near Bergamo. Photograph: Russian Defence Ministry/TASS
The measures saved lives, but came too late for thousands of Italians. The death toll outstripped China, and the world looked on horrified as hospitals were overwhelmed, doctors forced to choose who should have a chance on a ventilator and who should die. On 11 March, the WHO declared a global pandemic. On 14 March, Spain went into lockdown, and three days later France did the same.
But in the UK there appeared to be greater reluctance to act decisively with lockdowns: the banning of mass gatherings and the closure of pubs and restaurants. The government’s scientific and behavioural science advisers were warning ministers that the public might react badly to draconian measures and would not tolerate them for long.
In an apparent show of defiance against the lockdowners, Johnson and Symonds attended the England v Ireland rugby match at Twickenham on 7 March. The Cheltenham Festival, attended over three days to 13 March by 250,000 racegoers, was allowed to go ahead.
Shutdown: Johnson changes tack
The tone was about to change. In a Downing Street press conference on 12 March, Johnson, who had said a few days before the first UK death that the disease was “likely to spread a bit more” suddenly became the deliverer of grave warnings.
Previous talk by his advisers of avoiding lockdowns and developing “herd immunity” had been banished and replaced by a brutal honesty. “I must level with you,” Johnson told reporters. “More families, many more families, are going to lose loved ones before their time.” On 18 March – just days after Downing Street had suggested it was not on the cards – the government announced the closure of all schools until further noticed. Pubs and restaurants were ordered to shut on 20 March. The UK had come late into line.
One former cabinet minister last week described the change of approach as a “screeching U-turn”. Johnson and his ministers were now, even more than before, taking cover behind, and advice from, their scientific and medical advisers. Many of these advisers had become increasingly concerned that the UK had become out of step with other countries because of political resistance from ministers to measures that would hit the economy. The Observer has been told that at least two senior government advisers were on the brink of of quitting before Johnson switched his approach.
The government has found itself unable to escape the consequences of a wider failure to prepare. As hospitals threatened to be overwhelmed before orders were given to massively expand capacity, ministers came under intense criticism over the lack of protective equipment for frontline NHS staff, over the lack of ventilators for patients in intensive care, and for a failure to test more widely for Covid-19, particularly among NHS workers.
The lack of preparedness and instances of chaotic planning has shocked many in and outside the NHS.
Last week, Dr Alison Pittard, the dean of the Faculty of Intensive Care Medicine, the professional body for intensive care practitioners, said the minimum specifications for the government’s own homegrown ventilator scheme would produce machines that would only treat patients “for a few hours”. “If we had been told that that was the case… we’d have said: ‘Don’t bother, you’re wasting your time. That’s of no use’,” she told the Financial Times.
Last month the government missed an EU procurement deadline for ventilators because, minister said, an email went unnoticed. The NHS had said 30,000 more would be needed, Hancock reduced this to 18,000. Pittard said her faculty had been warning for years about a shortage of intensive care capacity and intensive care nurses in hospitals.
FacebookTwitterPinterest Boris Johnson and partner Carrie Symonds with the England captain Owen Farrell at Twickenham on 7 March. Photograph: Facundo Arrizabalaga/EPA
Normally each intensive care patient would have one intensive care nurse in attendance all the time, she said. Now there was one nurse to six patients, although other staff had been redeployed to intensive care units to plug the gaps and the new system was working because of heroic efforts. Although she was reluctant to criticise the government, she said that if the faculty had been listened to, “we wouldn’t be starting from this place”. Germany, she pointed out, has 29 intensive care beds per 100,000 people, compared with six in the UK.
The Tory MP and former health minister Dan Poulter, who works part-time in the NHS, said that given the enormity of the challenge facing government “it almost seems wrong to be critical”.
But he believes part of the problem is that insufficient advice has been sought from experienced NHS clinicians who would have warned of problems with PPE early on, of the shortage of ventilators and would have told ministers of the urgent need to test NHS staff.
“An early over-reliance on academic modelling also resulted in a lack of experienced frontline NHS clinicians – in other words, the people who really understand the day-to-day challenges our hospitals and health service face – from feeding into the initial Covid-19 action plan,” he said. “This has manifested itself amongst other things in the slowness of providing adequate PPE for frontline NHS staff and in the lack of virus testing for healthcare staff in the earlier part of the outbreak.”
How the scientists reacted
When the investigations into the UK’s response to Covid-19 come to be written, there is widespread recognition among experts that this lack of long-term strategic planning will be at the centre of it. So too should be the need to ensure that the views of experts are fed into government more efficiently and widely. The prospect of a previously unknown disease spreading catastrophically around the globe and infecting millions is, after all, not a new one.
Indeed, many warnings have been given in the past about the viral dangers facing humanity. “Given the continual emergence of new pathogens ... and the ever-increasing connectedness of our world, there is a significant probability that a large and lethal pandemic will occur in our lifetime,” Bill Gates predicted several years ago. “And it will have the impact of a nuclear war,” he warned, while urging nations to start stockpiling antiviral drugs and therapies. If only.
For its part, the WHO prepared – several years ago – a list of viruses with no known treatments or vaccines, illnesses that could one day trigger that pandemic and kill hundreds of thousands. Prospective killers included nipah disease and lassa fever as well as an ailment it simply called “disease X” – “a serious international epidemic caused by a pathogen currently unknown”.
As to the most likely nature of that mysterious virus, most modelling assumed that disease X would be flu-like in behaviour, says Dr Josie Golding, the epidemics lead at the Wellcome Trust. After all, influenza had caused so many deadly global outbreaks in the past. As a result, a lot of investment went into making influenza vaccines in preparation, she says. “But have we been thinking about diseases other than influenza that might become pandemics? I don’t think we have. There has been a real gap in our thinking.”
Then came the appearance of Covid-19 – caused not by a strain of influenza but by a coronavirus – in November. Initially, only a few cases were highlighted, a trend that began to change early this year with a rise in numbers of infected ill people.
“The report that really grabbed my attention came out in mid-January,” says epidemiologist Professor Mark Woolhouse at Edinburgh University. “It said 41 cases of this new respiratory illness had now been diagnosed in one small area of China, around Wuhan. And that set the alarm bells ringing for me.”
For Woolhouse, the cluster of cases in one place showed this was not a matter of a few people scattered around China picking up an occasional infection from an animal such as a bat or a chicken. “Forty-one cases in one small area at the same time could not be explained that way. People are not picking this up from animals, I realised. They are actually spreading it to each other. It was already heading out of control.”
Ewan Birney, head of the European Bioinfomatics Institute in Cambridgeshire, also noted the significance of the new disease at the time. “I presumed, at first, that this one would also burn itself out, probably somewhere in Asia,” he says.
His reasoning was straightforward. The outbreak of Sars that appeared in 2003 in China was caused by a coronavirus and killed more than 10% of those it infected. “In fact, it killed or hospitalised so many of those it infected the chain of transmission from one person to others was cut. It was too lethal for its own good. So I thought this might happen with this new disease. But it turns out Covid-19 is much milder and incapacitates fewer individuals, so there is no cut in its transmission. When that became apparent – around mid-January – I became very worried.”
Then there was the infectiousness of the new virus. A person with Sars generally starts to display symptoms before they infect other people. That makes it much easier to contain. But this was not the case with Covid-19. Early data from China – again released in January – showed the virus was being spread from people who were displaying only the mildest symptoms, or in some cases no symptoms. This was making the condition very difficult to track, says virologist Professor Jonathan Ball of Nottingham University.
FacebookTwitterPinterest The County Oak Medical Centre in Brighton was closed on 10 February after a member of staff was infected with coronavirus. Photograph: Glyn Kirk/AFP via Getty Images
“At that point I realised this outbreak was going to be very serious,” he added. “I sent a tweet to a colleague in Australia. It simply said: ‘This one is out of the bag properly’. He sent one back agreeing with me.”
Around this time, Paul Nurse, Nobel laureate and head of the Francis Crick Institute, recalls attending a conference where he met Mark Wolpert, head of UK Research and Innovation, the organisation that funds a vast slice of British scientific research.
“He had just received a text message from a colleague about the outbreak and we started to discuss the implications,” Nurse recalls. “It did not take us long for us both to realise this was going to be very significant. It took another two or three weeks to confirm these worst fears – by mid-February.”
By this time, Birney had realised the virus had a real sting in its tail and could cause serious illness among the elderly and those with other underlying serious ailments. “It was half-term and I was on holiday with my parents. All I wanted to do was to get the holiday over and then get them back to their house in the country where they could keep themselves isolated.”
In February, sporadic cases of Covid-19 were appearing round the country, recalls Tom Wingfield, a clinician and infectious disease expert based at the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine. “These were cases that had been brought into the country, mainly from China or Italy. Then there was an outbreak in Brighton and I realised that the virus had established itself in a community there. It was a turning point.”
Britain was still doing quite well in containing the disease by testing, tracing contact and setting up quarantine for those suspected of being infected with Covid-19 at this time. “Then, in March, the government decided to abandon this approach and shift from containing the disease to delaying its progress,” says Wingfield. “I would really like to know why the decision to give up testing and contact tracing was taken.”
Many other researchers also question why the government took so long to react to their warnings. “Part of the trouble was there were other virologists who were saying this was going to be like Sars or flu and there was not too much to worry about,” says Ball. “But Sars happened in 2003. The world is much more connected now than it was then. More to the point, Covid-19 was also much more infectious than Sars. And so it started appearing in lots of other countries.
“Perhaps some of us should have got up in front of BBC News and said you lot ought to be petrified because this is going to be a pandemic that will kill hundreds of thousands of people,” adds Ball. “None of us thought this was a particularly constructive thing to do, but maybe with hindsight we should have. If there had been more voices, maybe politicians would have taken this a bit more seriously.”
“There is no question that we were insufficiently prepared,” Nurse says. “We had been warned a few years ago when reports made it clear that the UK was not ready to combat a major flu pandemic and we did not take up that warning. As a result, we were caught out.”
He and many others say an inquiry into Britain’s Covid-19 preparedness will have to be held at some point but stress that this should not be started until the crisis has been dealt with in the UK.
Professor Ian Boyd, a former chief scientific adviser at the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, agrees. “There is a great danger there will be a lot of looking back with the benefits of hindsight and poking fingers of blame,” warns Boyd. “But when you are in the middle of things you have to make a lot of very hard 50-50 decisions, and sometimes you make the wrong call. On the other hand, there is no harm in making sure that we learn as many lessons as we can.”
The lessons from the rest of the world …
Boris Johnson, after his own brush with death at the hands of Covid-19, will presumably no longer take the gung-ho attitude to illness that he has always has. A former Tory minister said: “If Boris had any sense he would take control of the inquiry and lead it.”
One conclusion that experts are already drawing is that it was those countries close to China, with memories of Sars, or cultural ties to their neighbour, which were much faster to act in response to Covid-19. Perhaps most notable in its success was Taiwan. Closely linked by economic and cultural ties to mainland China, Taiwan could have been at high risk of a major Covid-19 epidemic. Tourists and business people travelled regularly back and forth.
But helped perhaps by having an epidemiologist as vice-president, the government set up a gold standard regime of testing and contact tracing that means that nearly three months on from its first confirmed infection, it has registered fewer than 400 cases and six deaths.
Taiwan’s extensive testing and thorough contact tracing are precisely the kind of action that the former health secretary Jeremy Hunt is demanding before the UK lockdown is lifted. Hunt points out that it is one of the essential conditions set by the WHO to avoid a second wave resulting from an easing of restrictions.
Hong Kong, which also suffered from the Sars crisis, also moved early to enforce quarantine and social distancing, as well as widespread mask wearing, and today has registered just over 1,000 cases and only four deaths.
FacebookTwitterPinterest A man in Wuhan on 10 February, the 19th day of the transport lockdown. Photograph: Getty Images
In late February, South Korea looked like it was on a trajectory to disaster, with the highest number of confirmed cases outside China, and numbers rising rapidly. But after the country’s first infection, the government met medical companies and urged them to start developing coronavirus test kits on a massive scale.
The results were impressive. When the epidemic hit, it was ready to deploy largescale testing. Its measures allowed South Korea to become the second country to flatten its coronavirus curve, without the sweeping shutdowns of society and economic activity that China had pioneered and the west would be forced to adopt.
China’s experience should have provided a grim template for western countries to use to prepare. The speed with which Wuhan’s crisis had intensified showed that a relatively advanced medical system could be swamped. Within three weeks there were over 64,000 people infected and 1,000 dead.
The pleas for help from Wuhan’s residents and doctors were to be echoed by those from Italy a few weeks later, and soon after the UK.
Look back three months, and in China there were not enough tests to work out who had coronavirus, there was not enough protective equipment for medical staff treating patients, and then, soon, tragically there were not enough hospital beds and ventilators for sick patients. These are exactly the challenges faced by authorities from New York to Rome, London to Madrid.
… and the other country that didn’t listen
If the UK has serious questions to answer, the country that so far has seen the worst of the outbreak, the United States, was slowest of all to act. Trump for months ignored, played down or lied about the threat posed by coronavirus, leaving individual states to act unilaterally as it became clear it had already taken hold on US soil.
On 17 March parts of California issued “shelter in place” orders, effectively a lockdown. By the end of that week New York City had also shut down, along with a dozen states, and the majority of the rest of the country had put some restrictions in place. Only five states had few or no controls.
There have now been nearly 700,000 confirmed cases in the US and over 33,000 deaths; actual numbers are likely to be higher for both. The economy has also been devastated, with more than 22 million out of work as businesses collapse or shrink under the strain.
The US was slowest of all to act, but Donald Trump is preparing to lift restrictions already. Photograph: Alex Brandon/AP
Trump insists the US is turning a corner, and has tried to blame – among other targets – the WHO for failing to fully raise the alarm, and has stripped it of its US funding.
There have certainly been questions about the organisation’s strong praise for China and the exclusion of Taiwan, which may have contributed to the delay in recognising human-to-human transmission was occurring. But it began daily briefings on 22 January and had declared a global health emergency by the end of that month.
While initially sceptical about China’s distancing measures, it urged other countries to adopt them once there was evidence they were working. It warned about shortages of PPE over a month ago, and since the beginning of the outbreak has urged countries, including the UK, to “test, test, test” to contain the virus – a strategy followed by almost all countries that have managed to suppress it.
A senior Whitehall source with detailed knowledge of the UK’s response and those of other countries said: “The fact is that those countries who knew a lot about Sars quickly saw the danger. But in the UK the attitude among politicians and also scientists was that it was really just some form of a flu. All the government’s pandemic planning was based on a flu scenario. And then it turned out to be something different and far, far worse and the response was completely inadequate.”
And we are going to be living with the consequences for a long time. Don’t expect a vaccine to come to the rescue in the short term, says Nabarro. “For the foreseeable future, we are going to have to find ways to go about our lives with this virus as a constant threat to our lives. That means isolating those who show signs of the disease and also their contacts. Older people will have to be protected. That is going to be the new normal for us all.”
By late December last year, doctors in the central Chinese city of Wuhan were starting to worry about patients quarantined in their hospitals suffering from an unusual type of pneumonia.
As the mystery illness spread in one of China’s major industrial hubs, some tried to warn their colleagues to take extra care at work, because the disease resembled Sars (severe acute respiratory syndrome), the deadly respiratory disease that had killed hundreds of people across the region in 2002-03 after a government cover-up.
One of those who tried to raise the alarm, though only among a few medical school classmates, was a 33-year-old Chinese ophthalmologist, Li Wenliang. Seven people were in isolation at his hospital, he said, and the disease appeared to be a coronavirus, from the same family as Sars.
In early January he was called in by police, reprimanded for “spreading rumours online”, and forced to sign a paper acknowledging his “misdemeanour” and promising not to repeat it.
Many early cases were linked to the city’s Huanan seafood and fresh produce market, which also sold wildlife, suggesting that the first cases were contracted there.
FacebookTwitterPinterest The Wuhan hygiene emergency response team leave the closed Huanan seafood wholesale market on 11 January. Photograph: Noel Celis/AFP via Getty Images
Scientists would discover the disease had probably originated in bats and had then passed through a second species – in all likelihood, but not certainly, pangolins, a type of scaly anteater – before infecting humans.
But the infections were soon spreading directly between patients, so fast that on 23 January the government announced an unprecedented lockdown of Wuhan city and the surrounding Hubei province.
Two weeks later, on 7 February, Li, who had contracted coronavirus himself, died in hospital from the condition about which he had tried to raise the alarm. He had no known underlying conditions and left behind a wife and young child.
Li became the face of the mysterious new disease. The story of his death and pictures of him in a hospital bed wearing an oxygen mask made media headlines across the globe, including in the UK.
The world, it seemed, was slowly becoming more aware of how lethal coronavirus could be, that it was not just another form of flu with fairly mild symptoms.
But while UK scientists and medical researchers were becoming more concerned, and studying the evidence from China, those among them who were most worried were not getting their messages through to high places.
Distracted by Brexit and reshuffles
The Conservative government of Boris Johnson had other more immediate preoccupations at the start of this year.
Johnson was still basking in his general election success last December. After he returned from a celebratory Caribbean holiday with his fiancee, Carrie Symonds, the political weather for the prime minister seemed to be set fair. It was honeymoon time.
Three and a half years on from the Brexit referendum, the UK was finally about to leave the EU on 31 January. The fireworks and parties for the big night were being planned, the celebratory 50p coins minted.
Minds were certainly not on a developing health emergency far away, as Johnson prepared to exploit the moment of the UK’s departure from the European Union for all it was worth. “I think there was some over-confidence,” admitted one very senior Tory last week.
The prime minister and his chief adviser, Dominic Cummings, wanted to make an early impression at home in other ways too, as domestic reformers. Cummings was waging a war on civil servants in Whitehall, throwing his weight around and deliberately upsetting the Westminster applecart.
While he made the headlines, briefing about his iconoclastic ambitions, Johnson was preparing a big Cabinet reshuffle to assert his own authority in other areas now Brexit was done and dusted.
With Labour effectively leaderless after its fourth consecutive election defeat, there was little opposition to trouble Johnson on any front at all – and certainly no-one of note asking tough questions about coronavirus.
The prime minister duly recast his cabinet team on 13 February – five days after Li’s death in Wuhan. He made big changes but unsurprisingly retained the hitherto safe pair of hands of Matt Hancock as his health secretary.
FacebookTwitterPinterest Boris Johnson speaking about the EU on 3 February. Photograph: Reuters
In a sign of where priorities lay – and the lack of concern that a potential crisis might be heading our way from the east – Hancock wasted no time recording a video of himself grinning with delight on reshuffle day.
He smacked his right fist into his left palm saying he could not wait to “get cracking” and that he relished the chance to deliver the Tories’ manifesto promises, reform social care and improve life sciences. And lastly, in a more sombre voice, he spoke of “dealing with coronavirus and keeping the public safe” before adding, as the grin returned: “Now let’s get back to work!”
It is perhaps too early to conclude for sure that Johnson, Hancock and the government’s entire team of scientific and medical advisers were caught asleep at the wheel. But the fact that Johnson and Hancock themselves, in common with much of the Downing Street staff, would go on to contract the virus or suffer symptoms, further suggests that people at the top had not been sufficiently on their guard.
Now, 11 weeks on from the first cases being confirmed in the UK on 31 January – a period during which more than 14,000 people (and probably several thousands more once care home fatalities are counted) in the UK have died from Covid-19 – and with the country in lockdown, the economy facing prolonged recession as a result, schools closed, and no sign of an end in sight – hard questions have to be asked.
We already know with some certainty that other countries, such as Germany, South Korea, Taiwan and New Zealand, will emerge from this crisis having performed far better than the UK. A few weeks ago the government’s advisers crassly said that fewer than 20,000 deaths would be “a very good result” for the UK.
As we fast approach that grim tally, many experts now believe the UK may come out of this crisis, whenever that may be, with one of the worst records on fighting coronavirus of any European nation. Once the full tally is counted, few expect the number of deaths to be below 20,000.
By contrast, on Friday, Germany was saying it thought it had brought coronavirus largely under control. It had had 3,868 deaths, less a third of the total in the UK (and Germany’s population, at 83 million, is far higher), having conducted widespread testing for Covid-19 from early on, precisely as the UK has failed to do.
How, then, did it come to this? How did coronavirus spread across the globe, prompting different responses in different countries? Did the UK simply fail to heed the warnings? Or did it just decide to take different decisions, while others settled on alternative actions to save lives?
The warnings grow louder
David Nabarro, professor of global health at Imperial College, London, and an envoy for the World Health Organization on Covid-19, says one thing is for sure. All governments were warned how serious the situation was likely to become as early as the end of January. Ignorance of the danger that was coming can be no excuse. Yet it would not be until late March – later than many other countries – that Johnson would announce a complete lockdown.
“WHO had been following the outbreak since the end of December and within a few weeks it called a meeting of its emergency committee to decide if this outbreak was a ‘public health emergency of international concern’,” said Nabarro.
“That is the highest level of alert that WHO can issue, and it issued it on January 30. It made it very clear then – to every country in the world – that we were facing something very serious indeed.”
Well before the end of January, the WHO had been tracking the growing threat minutely: 14 January was a key day in the spread of the disease that would become known as Covid-19. The first case was confirmed outside China, with a woman hospitalised in Thailand.
A WHO official warned then that it was possible that human-to-human transmission had occurred in families of victims – a sign that the disease had potential to spread far and fast – and, inside China, officials were quietly told to prepare for a pandemic.
There was little international attention on the day, though, because Beijing’s dire warnings about a pandemic were made in secret, and a WHO spokesman rowed back from his colleague’s claim.
Officially, China had not seen a new case of the coronavirus for over a week; the outbreak appeared to be fading. It took another six days for China to publicly acknowledge the gravity of the threat, time that scientists believed meant a further 3,000 people were infected.
But on 20 January, officials announced more than 100 new cases and admitted the virus was spreading between humans, a red flag for concern to anyone who works on infectious diseases. The virus could no longer be contained by finding the animal source of the infection and destroying it.
Two days later, the scale of the challenge was made clear to the general public when Beijing locked down millions of people. All transport into and out of the metropolis of Wuhan was cut off, an unprecedented modern quarantine that would come at huge human and economic cost.
On 29 January, the UK would have its first two confirmed cases of the disease. There was little sense that China’s dilemma and its approach – shut down life as we know it or watch the death toll spiral out of control – might have to be our nightmare within weeks.
In early February, Donald Trump announced a ban on travellers who had passed through China in the previous 14 days. Europe began focused testing of people with symptoms and travel histories that linked them to the disease, but little else.
Johnson, it seemed, still had Brexit and free trade much more on his mind. Any hint of draconian action to fight coronavirus that might hurt the economy was the last thing he was entertaining.
In a speech on Brexit in Greenwich on 3 February, he made clear his views on Wuhan-style lockdowns. “We are starting to hear some bizarre autarkic rhetoric,” he said.
”Humanity needs some government somewhere that is willing at least to make the case powerfully for freedom of exchange, some country ready to take off its Clark Kent spectacles and leap into the phone booth and emerge with its cloak flowing as the supercharged champion of the right of the populations of the Earth to buy and sell freely among each other.”
‘Herd immunity’: UK goes it alone
By early March it was abundantly clear to many academics and scientists that the approach being adopted by the UK was markedly different from those followed by other countries. From South Korea to Germany, governments had invested heavily in expanding testing capacity from the first weeks of the epidemic.
Hong Kong, Taiwan and Singapore had brought in controls on travellers from infected regions and strict contact tracing to help understand who could have been exposed, inform them and require self isolation. Face masks became widespread in east Asia, long before it was recommended elsewhere.
Testing and contact tracing has been at the heart of the approach advocated by the WHO, so that countries can establish how transmission chains were occurring, in order to break them.
Many also brought in some social distancing measures, banning large gatherings, closing schools or extending holidays, and encouraged those who could do to work from home. None were as extreme as China’s shutdown, or the European and American lockdowns that would follow.
Writing in the Observer last month, Devi Sridhar, chair of global public health at the University of Ediburgh, noted the distinct UK approach. “Rather than learning from other countries and following the WHO advice, which comes from experts with decades of experience in tackling outbreaks across the world, the UK has decided to follow its own path. This seems to accept that the virus is unstoppable and will probably become an annual, seasonal infection.
“The plan, as explained by the chief science adviser, is to work towards ‘herd immunity’, which is to have the majority of the population contract the virus, develop antibodies and then become immune to it. This theory has been widely used to advocate for mass vaccination for measles, mumps and rubella. The thinking is that, if most of the population is vaccinated, a small percentage can go unvaccinated without cases emerging.”
It was not just the UK whose politicians and scientific advisers were, arguably, slow to act in the early stages. Others countries, including Spain and France, were caught out too, but it was Italy’s tragedy that alerted Europe to the scale of the threat it faced.
European governments and citizens were forced to reckon with the reality that in an age of global travel, the thousands of miles separating them from China meant almost nothing at all. Thousands of Britons were holidaying in Italy the week that it shut down. They were advised to go into self-quarantine on return, but were not registered by the health authorities, nor were their contacts tracked.
Italy and the UK had both had had their first case a day apart at the end of January, but cases rose faster in Italy. The country may just have been unlucky that carriers of the disease flew to its northern cities and ski resorts rather than to other European capitals.
Whatever the reason, cases and then deaths started climbing sharply in northern Italy in late February. Dozens of towns were locked down from the 21st, but in the rest of the country life carried on as normal.
It was soon clear that the problem had not been contained. On 8 March, the prime minister, Guiseppe Conti, quarantined 16 million people across the north of the country, and the next day extended the lockdown to all of Italy.
FacebookTwitterPinterest Russian biological warfare troops, called in by the Italian authorities, disinfect the Pope John Paul I care home near Bergamo. Photograph: Russian Defence Ministry/TASS
The measures saved lives, but came too late for thousands of Italians. The death toll outstripped China, and the world looked on horrified as hospitals were overwhelmed, doctors forced to choose who should have a chance on a ventilator and who should die. On 11 March, the WHO declared a global pandemic. On 14 March, Spain went into lockdown, and three days later France did the same.
But in the UK there appeared to be greater reluctance to act decisively with lockdowns: the banning of mass gatherings and the closure of pubs and restaurants. The government’s scientific and behavioural science advisers were warning ministers that the public might react badly to draconian measures and would not tolerate them for long.
In an apparent show of defiance against the lockdowners, Johnson and Symonds attended the England v Ireland rugby match at Twickenham on 7 March. The Cheltenham Festival, attended over three days to 13 March by 250,000 racegoers, was allowed to go ahead.
Shutdown: Johnson changes tack
The tone was about to change. In a Downing Street press conference on 12 March, Johnson, who had said a few days before the first UK death that the disease was “likely to spread a bit more” suddenly became the deliverer of grave warnings.
Previous talk by his advisers of avoiding lockdowns and developing “herd immunity” had been banished and replaced by a brutal honesty. “I must level with you,” Johnson told reporters. “More families, many more families, are going to lose loved ones before their time.” On 18 March – just days after Downing Street had suggested it was not on the cards – the government announced the closure of all schools until further noticed. Pubs and restaurants were ordered to shut on 20 March. The UK had come late into line.
One former cabinet minister last week described the change of approach as a “screeching U-turn”. Johnson and his ministers were now, even more than before, taking cover behind, and advice from, their scientific and medical advisers. Many of these advisers had become increasingly concerned that the UK had become out of step with other countries because of political resistance from ministers to measures that would hit the economy. The Observer has been told that at least two senior government advisers were on the brink of of quitting before Johnson switched his approach.
The government has found itself unable to escape the consequences of a wider failure to prepare. As hospitals threatened to be overwhelmed before orders were given to massively expand capacity, ministers came under intense criticism over the lack of protective equipment for frontline NHS staff, over the lack of ventilators for patients in intensive care, and for a failure to test more widely for Covid-19, particularly among NHS workers.
The lack of preparedness and instances of chaotic planning has shocked many in and outside the NHS.
Last week, Dr Alison Pittard, the dean of the Faculty of Intensive Care Medicine, the professional body for intensive care practitioners, said the minimum specifications for the government’s own homegrown ventilator scheme would produce machines that would only treat patients “for a few hours”. “If we had been told that that was the case… we’d have said: ‘Don’t bother, you’re wasting your time. That’s of no use’,” she told the Financial Times.
Last month the government missed an EU procurement deadline for ventilators because, minister said, an email went unnoticed. The NHS had said 30,000 more would be needed, Hancock reduced this to 18,000. Pittard said her faculty had been warning for years about a shortage of intensive care capacity and intensive care nurses in hospitals.
FacebookTwitterPinterest Boris Johnson and partner Carrie Symonds with the England captain Owen Farrell at Twickenham on 7 March. Photograph: Facundo Arrizabalaga/EPA
Normally each intensive care patient would have one intensive care nurse in attendance all the time, she said. Now there was one nurse to six patients, although other staff had been redeployed to intensive care units to plug the gaps and the new system was working because of heroic efforts. Although she was reluctant to criticise the government, she said that if the faculty had been listened to, “we wouldn’t be starting from this place”. Germany, she pointed out, has 29 intensive care beds per 100,000 people, compared with six in the UK.
The Tory MP and former health minister Dan Poulter, who works part-time in the NHS, said that given the enormity of the challenge facing government “it almost seems wrong to be critical”.
But he believes part of the problem is that insufficient advice has been sought from experienced NHS clinicians who would have warned of problems with PPE early on, of the shortage of ventilators and would have told ministers of the urgent need to test NHS staff.
“An early over-reliance on academic modelling also resulted in a lack of experienced frontline NHS clinicians – in other words, the people who really understand the day-to-day challenges our hospitals and health service face – from feeding into the initial Covid-19 action plan,” he said. “This has manifested itself amongst other things in the slowness of providing adequate PPE for frontline NHS staff and in the lack of virus testing for healthcare staff in the earlier part of the outbreak.”
How the scientists reacted
When the investigations into the UK’s response to Covid-19 come to be written, there is widespread recognition among experts that this lack of long-term strategic planning will be at the centre of it. So too should be the need to ensure that the views of experts are fed into government more efficiently and widely. The prospect of a previously unknown disease spreading catastrophically around the globe and infecting millions is, after all, not a new one.
Indeed, many warnings have been given in the past about the viral dangers facing humanity. “Given the continual emergence of new pathogens ... and the ever-increasing connectedness of our world, there is a significant probability that a large and lethal pandemic will occur in our lifetime,” Bill Gates predicted several years ago. “And it will have the impact of a nuclear war,” he warned, while urging nations to start stockpiling antiviral drugs and therapies. If only.
For its part, the WHO prepared – several years ago – a list of viruses with no known treatments or vaccines, illnesses that could one day trigger that pandemic and kill hundreds of thousands. Prospective killers included nipah disease and lassa fever as well as an ailment it simply called “disease X” – “a serious international epidemic caused by a pathogen currently unknown”.
As to the most likely nature of that mysterious virus, most modelling assumed that disease X would be flu-like in behaviour, says Dr Josie Golding, the epidemics lead at the Wellcome Trust. After all, influenza had caused so many deadly global outbreaks in the past. As a result, a lot of investment went into making influenza vaccines in preparation, she says. “But have we been thinking about diseases other than influenza that might become pandemics? I don’t think we have. There has been a real gap in our thinking.”
Then came the appearance of Covid-19 – caused not by a strain of influenza but by a coronavirus – in November. Initially, only a few cases were highlighted, a trend that began to change early this year with a rise in numbers of infected ill people.
“The report that really grabbed my attention came out in mid-January,” says epidemiologist Professor Mark Woolhouse at Edinburgh University. “It said 41 cases of this new respiratory illness had now been diagnosed in one small area of China, around Wuhan. And that set the alarm bells ringing for me.”
For Woolhouse, the cluster of cases in one place showed this was not a matter of a few people scattered around China picking up an occasional infection from an animal such as a bat or a chicken. “Forty-one cases in one small area at the same time could not be explained that way. People are not picking this up from animals, I realised. They are actually spreading it to each other. It was already heading out of control.”
Ewan Birney, head of the European Bioinfomatics Institute in Cambridgeshire, also noted the significance of the new disease at the time. “I presumed, at first, that this one would also burn itself out, probably somewhere in Asia,” he says.
His reasoning was straightforward. The outbreak of Sars that appeared in 2003 in China was caused by a coronavirus and killed more than 10% of those it infected. “In fact, it killed or hospitalised so many of those it infected the chain of transmission from one person to others was cut. It was too lethal for its own good. So I thought this might happen with this new disease. But it turns out Covid-19 is much milder and incapacitates fewer individuals, so there is no cut in its transmission. When that became apparent – around mid-January – I became very worried.”
Then there was the infectiousness of the new virus. A person with Sars generally starts to display symptoms before they infect other people. That makes it much easier to contain. But this was not the case with Covid-19. Early data from China – again released in January – showed the virus was being spread from people who were displaying only the mildest symptoms, or in some cases no symptoms. This was making the condition very difficult to track, says virologist Professor Jonathan Ball of Nottingham University.
FacebookTwitterPinterest The County Oak Medical Centre in Brighton was closed on 10 February after a member of staff was infected with coronavirus. Photograph: Glyn Kirk/AFP via Getty Images
“At that point I realised this outbreak was going to be very serious,” he added. “I sent a tweet to a colleague in Australia. It simply said: ‘This one is out of the bag properly’. He sent one back agreeing with me.”
Around this time, Paul Nurse, Nobel laureate and head of the Francis Crick Institute, recalls attending a conference where he met Mark Wolpert, head of UK Research and Innovation, the organisation that funds a vast slice of British scientific research.
“He had just received a text message from a colleague about the outbreak and we started to discuss the implications,” Nurse recalls. “It did not take us long for us both to realise this was going to be very significant. It took another two or three weeks to confirm these worst fears – by mid-February.”
By this time, Birney had realised the virus had a real sting in its tail and could cause serious illness among the elderly and those with other underlying serious ailments. “It was half-term and I was on holiday with my parents. All I wanted to do was to get the holiday over and then get them back to their house in the country where they could keep themselves isolated.”
In February, sporadic cases of Covid-19 were appearing round the country, recalls Tom Wingfield, a clinician and infectious disease expert based at the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine. “These were cases that had been brought into the country, mainly from China or Italy. Then there was an outbreak in Brighton and I realised that the virus had established itself in a community there. It was a turning point.”
Britain was still doing quite well in containing the disease by testing, tracing contact and setting up quarantine for those suspected of being infected with Covid-19 at this time. “Then, in March, the government decided to abandon this approach and shift from containing the disease to delaying its progress,” says Wingfield. “I would really like to know why the decision to give up testing and contact tracing was taken.”
Many other researchers also question why the government took so long to react to their warnings. “Part of the trouble was there were other virologists who were saying this was going to be like Sars or flu and there was not too much to worry about,” says Ball. “But Sars happened in 2003. The world is much more connected now than it was then. More to the point, Covid-19 was also much more infectious than Sars. And so it started appearing in lots of other countries.
“Perhaps some of us should have got up in front of BBC News and said you lot ought to be petrified because this is going to be a pandemic that will kill hundreds of thousands of people,” adds Ball. “None of us thought this was a particularly constructive thing to do, but maybe with hindsight we should have. If there had been more voices, maybe politicians would have taken this a bit more seriously.”
“There is no question that we were insufficiently prepared,” Nurse says. “We had been warned a few years ago when reports made it clear that the UK was not ready to combat a major flu pandemic and we did not take up that warning. As a result, we were caught out.”
He and many others say an inquiry into Britain’s Covid-19 preparedness will have to be held at some point but stress that this should not be started until the crisis has been dealt with in the UK.
Professor Ian Boyd, a former chief scientific adviser at the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, agrees. “There is a great danger there will be a lot of looking back with the benefits of hindsight and poking fingers of blame,” warns Boyd. “But when you are in the middle of things you have to make a lot of very hard 50-50 decisions, and sometimes you make the wrong call. On the other hand, there is no harm in making sure that we learn as many lessons as we can.”
The lessons from the rest of the world …
Boris Johnson, after his own brush with death at the hands of Covid-19, will presumably no longer take the gung-ho attitude to illness that he has always has. A former Tory minister said: “If Boris had any sense he would take control of the inquiry and lead it.”
One conclusion that experts are already drawing is that it was those countries close to China, with memories of Sars, or cultural ties to their neighbour, which were much faster to act in response to Covid-19. Perhaps most notable in its success was Taiwan. Closely linked by economic and cultural ties to mainland China, Taiwan could have been at high risk of a major Covid-19 epidemic. Tourists and business people travelled regularly back and forth.
But helped perhaps by having an epidemiologist as vice-president, the government set up a gold standard regime of testing and contact tracing that means that nearly three months on from its first confirmed infection, it has registered fewer than 400 cases and six deaths.
Taiwan’s extensive testing and thorough contact tracing are precisely the kind of action that the former health secretary Jeremy Hunt is demanding before the UK lockdown is lifted. Hunt points out that it is one of the essential conditions set by the WHO to avoid a second wave resulting from an easing of restrictions.
Hong Kong, which also suffered from the Sars crisis, also moved early to enforce quarantine and social distancing, as well as widespread mask wearing, and today has registered just over 1,000 cases and only four deaths.
FacebookTwitterPinterest A man in Wuhan on 10 February, the 19th day of the transport lockdown. Photograph: Getty Images
In late February, South Korea looked like it was on a trajectory to disaster, with the highest number of confirmed cases outside China, and numbers rising rapidly. But after the country’s first infection, the government met medical companies and urged them to start developing coronavirus test kits on a massive scale.
The results were impressive. When the epidemic hit, it was ready to deploy largescale testing. Its measures allowed South Korea to become the second country to flatten its coronavirus curve, without the sweeping shutdowns of society and economic activity that China had pioneered and the west would be forced to adopt.
China’s experience should have provided a grim template for western countries to use to prepare. The speed with which Wuhan’s crisis had intensified showed that a relatively advanced medical system could be swamped. Within three weeks there were over 64,000 people infected and 1,000 dead.
The pleas for help from Wuhan’s residents and doctors were to be echoed by those from Italy a few weeks later, and soon after the UK.
Look back three months, and in China there were not enough tests to work out who had coronavirus, there was not enough protective equipment for medical staff treating patients, and then, soon, tragically there were not enough hospital beds and ventilators for sick patients. These are exactly the challenges faced by authorities from New York to Rome, London to Madrid.
… and the other country that didn’t listen
If the UK has serious questions to answer, the country that so far has seen the worst of the outbreak, the United States, was slowest of all to act. Trump for months ignored, played down or lied about the threat posed by coronavirus, leaving individual states to act unilaterally as it became clear it had already taken hold on US soil.
On 17 March parts of California issued “shelter in place” orders, effectively a lockdown. By the end of that week New York City had also shut down, along with a dozen states, and the majority of the rest of the country had put some restrictions in place. Only five states had few or no controls.
There have now been nearly 700,000 confirmed cases in the US and over 33,000 deaths; actual numbers are likely to be higher for both. The economy has also been devastated, with more than 22 million out of work as businesses collapse or shrink under the strain.
The US was slowest of all to act, but Donald Trump is preparing to lift restrictions already. Photograph: Alex Brandon/AP
Trump insists the US is turning a corner, and has tried to blame – among other targets – the WHO for failing to fully raise the alarm, and has stripped it of its US funding.
There have certainly been questions about the organisation’s strong praise for China and the exclusion of Taiwan, which may have contributed to the delay in recognising human-to-human transmission was occurring. But it began daily briefings on 22 January and had declared a global health emergency by the end of that month.
While initially sceptical about China’s distancing measures, it urged other countries to adopt them once there was evidence they were working. It warned about shortages of PPE over a month ago, and since the beginning of the outbreak has urged countries, including the UK, to “test, test, test” to contain the virus – a strategy followed by almost all countries that have managed to suppress it.
A senior Whitehall source with detailed knowledge of the UK’s response and those of other countries said: “The fact is that those countries who knew a lot about Sars quickly saw the danger. But in the UK the attitude among politicians and also scientists was that it was really just some form of a flu. All the government’s pandemic planning was based on a flu scenario. And then it turned out to be something different and far, far worse and the response was completely inadequate.”
And we are going to be living with the consequences for a long time. Don’t expect a vaccine to come to the rescue in the short term, says Nabarro. “For the foreseeable future, we are going to have to find ways to go about our lives with this virus as a constant threat to our lives. That means isolating those who show signs of the disease and also their contacts. Older people will have to be protected. That is going to be the new normal for us all.”
Tuesday, 5 January 2016
By the end of my first year as a doctor, I was ready to kill myself
An Anonymous junior doctor in The Guardian
On my morning drives to the hospital, the tears fell like rain. The prospect of the next 14 hours – 8am to 10pm with not a second’s respite from the nurses’ bleeps, or the overwhelming needs of too many sick patients – was almost too much to bear. But on the late-night trips back home, I’d feel nothing at all. Deadbeat, punch-drunk, it was utter indifference that nearly killed me. Every night, on an empty dual carriageway, I had to fight with myself to keep my hands on the steering wheel. The temptation to let go – of the wheel, the patients, my miserable life – was almost irresistible. Then I’d never have to haul myself through another unfeasible day at the hospital.
By the time I neared the end of my first year as a doctor, I’d chosen the spot where I intended to kill myself. I’d bought everything I needed to do it. All my youthful enthusiasm for healing, big dreams of saving lives and of making a difference, had soured and I felt an astronomic emptiness. Made monumentally selfish by depression, I’d ceased even to care what my husband would think of me, or that my little boy would grow up without his mother.
Doctor suicide is the medical profession’s grubby little secret. Female doctors aretwice as likely as the general population to take our own lives. A US study shows our suicide rate appears higher than that of other professional groups, with young doctors at the beginning of their training being particularly vulnerable. As I wrestled silently with the urge to kill myself, another house officer in my trust went right on and did it. To me, that monstrous waste of young life seemed entirely logical. The constant, haunting fear of hurting my patients, coupled with relentless rotas at work, had rendered me incapable of reason.
Though we know large numbers of doctors kill themselves, what is less clear are the reasons why, when dedicated to preserving human life, some doctors silently plot their own deaths. A 2006 study at the University of Pennsylvania identified that during their first year as doctors, young physicians experienced skyrocketing rates of burnout, with symptoms of emotional exhaustion, depersonalisation, and reduced sense of personal accomplishment soaring from 4% to 55%.
For me, the explanation ran deeper. I was entrenched in a hospital system that brutalised young doctors. Working on my hospital’s surgical emergency unit, there were simply too few of us to cope with the daily onslaught of patients. Officially eight or 10-hour days ran routinely into 13, 14 or 15 hours as we house officers worked at fever pitch to provide what was, at best, a mediocre service for our patients. Run ragged, we fought to keep our patients safe, but their numbers outstripped ours 20 or 30 to one, and the efforts this took were superhuman. The nurses knew, the consultants knew, even the hospital management knew, yet no one seemed to give a damn.
It wasn’t just exhaustion that drove me into depression. Plenty of jobs are busy. But there is something uniquely traumatic about being responsible for patients’ lives, while being crushed under a workload so punitive it gives neither the time nor space for safe assessment of those patients. Days were bad enough, but nights on call were terrifying. I remember running from the bed of one patient, still haemorrhaging blood from her surgical wound, to another whose heart rate had plummeted to 20, perilously close to a cardiac arrest. Two stricken patients, but only one doctor, wracked with the knowledge that if something went wrong, the guilt would be hers alone.
I was lucky. I was pushed by the colleague in whom I finally confided into seeking professional help. It took anti-depressants, therapy and a narrowly-avoided psychiatric inpatient admission to bring me back to the land of the living.
Now, on the cusp of junior doctors’ first national strike in 40 years, I’m astounded the health secretary persists in ignoring unanimous condemnation of his new contract from juniors and medical leaders alike. If he gets his way, Jeremy Hunt will make it easier for hospitals to abuse their juniors, by stripping away the safeguards that stop hospitals overworking us, fining those that do. Under his new contract, our hours will become even longer, even more antisocial – at a time when we simply have nothing more to give. And as we are pushed to treat more and more patients, faster and faster, fatigue and psychological distress will dull our competence: your lives will be less safe in our hands. And our own? Take it from someone who’s been there. Watch the suicide rate climb.
On my morning drives to the hospital, the tears fell like rain. The prospect of the next 14 hours – 8am to 10pm with not a second’s respite from the nurses’ bleeps, or the overwhelming needs of too many sick patients – was almost too much to bear. But on the late-night trips back home, I’d feel nothing at all. Deadbeat, punch-drunk, it was utter indifference that nearly killed me. Every night, on an empty dual carriageway, I had to fight with myself to keep my hands on the steering wheel. The temptation to let go – of the wheel, the patients, my miserable life – was almost irresistible. Then I’d never have to haul myself through another unfeasible day at the hospital.
By the time I neared the end of my first year as a doctor, I’d chosen the spot where I intended to kill myself. I’d bought everything I needed to do it. All my youthful enthusiasm for healing, big dreams of saving lives and of making a difference, had soured and I felt an astronomic emptiness. Made monumentally selfish by depression, I’d ceased even to care what my husband would think of me, or that my little boy would grow up without his mother.
Doctor suicide is the medical profession’s grubby little secret. Female doctors aretwice as likely as the general population to take our own lives. A US study shows our suicide rate appears higher than that of other professional groups, with young doctors at the beginning of their training being particularly vulnerable. As I wrestled silently with the urge to kill myself, another house officer in my trust went right on and did it. To me, that monstrous waste of young life seemed entirely logical. The constant, haunting fear of hurting my patients, coupled with relentless rotas at work, had rendered me incapable of reason.
Though we know large numbers of doctors kill themselves, what is less clear are the reasons why, when dedicated to preserving human life, some doctors silently plot their own deaths. A 2006 study at the University of Pennsylvania identified that during their first year as doctors, young physicians experienced skyrocketing rates of burnout, with symptoms of emotional exhaustion, depersonalisation, and reduced sense of personal accomplishment soaring from 4% to 55%.
For me, the explanation ran deeper. I was entrenched in a hospital system that brutalised young doctors. Working on my hospital’s surgical emergency unit, there were simply too few of us to cope with the daily onslaught of patients. Officially eight or 10-hour days ran routinely into 13, 14 or 15 hours as we house officers worked at fever pitch to provide what was, at best, a mediocre service for our patients. Run ragged, we fought to keep our patients safe, but their numbers outstripped ours 20 or 30 to one, and the efforts this took were superhuman. The nurses knew, the consultants knew, even the hospital management knew, yet no one seemed to give a damn.
It wasn’t just exhaustion that drove me into depression. Plenty of jobs are busy. But there is something uniquely traumatic about being responsible for patients’ lives, while being crushed under a workload so punitive it gives neither the time nor space for safe assessment of those patients. Days were bad enough, but nights on call were terrifying. I remember running from the bed of one patient, still haemorrhaging blood from her surgical wound, to another whose heart rate had plummeted to 20, perilously close to a cardiac arrest. Two stricken patients, but only one doctor, wracked with the knowledge that if something went wrong, the guilt would be hers alone.
I was lucky. I was pushed by the colleague in whom I finally confided into seeking professional help. It took anti-depressants, therapy and a narrowly-avoided psychiatric inpatient admission to bring me back to the land of the living.
Now, on the cusp of junior doctors’ first national strike in 40 years, I’m astounded the health secretary persists in ignoring unanimous condemnation of his new contract from juniors and medical leaders alike. If he gets his way, Jeremy Hunt will make it easier for hospitals to abuse their juniors, by stripping away the safeguards that stop hospitals overworking us, fining those that do. Under his new contract, our hours will become even longer, even more antisocial – at a time when we simply have nothing more to give. And as we are pushed to treat more and more patients, faster and faster, fatigue and psychological distress will dull our competence: your lives will be less safe in our hands. And our own? Take it from someone who’s been there. Watch the suicide rate climb.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
We were wrong on peak oil. There's enough to fry us all
A boom in oil production has made a mockery of our predictions. Good news for capitalists – but a disaster for humanity
'The great profusion of life in the past – fossilised in the form of flammable carbon – now jeopardises the great profusion of life in the present.' Illustration by Daniel Pudles
The facts have changed, now we must change too. For the past 10 years an unlikely coalition of geologists, oil drillers, bankers, military strategists and environmentalists has been warning that peak oil – the decline of global supplies – is just around the corner. We had some strong reasons for doing so: production had slowed, the price had risen sharply, depletion was widespread and appeared to be escalating. The first of the great resource crunches seemed about to strike.
Among environmentalists it was never clear, even to ourselves, whether or not we wanted it to happen. It had the potential both to shock the world into economic transformation, averting future catastrophes, and to generate catastrophes of its own, including a shift into even more damaging technologies, such as biofuels and petrol made from coal. Even so, peak oil was a powerful lever. Governments, businesses and voters who seemed impervious to the moral case for cutting the use of fossil fuels might, we hoped, respond to the economic case.
Some of us made vague predictions, others were more specific. In all cases we were wrong. In 1975 MK Hubbert, a geoscientist working for Shell who had correctly predicted the decline in US oil production, suggested that global supplies could peak in 1995. In 1997 the petroleum geologist Colin Campbell estimated that it would happen before 2010. In 2003 the geophysicist Kenneth Deffeyes said he was "99% confident" that peak oil would occur in 2004. In 2004, the Texas tycoon T Boone Pickens predicted that "never again will we pump more than 82m barrels" per day of liquid fuels. (Average daily supply in May 2012 was 91m.) In 2005 the investment banker Matthew Simmons maintained that "Saudi Arabia … cannot materially grow its oil production". (Since then its output has risen from 9m barrels a day to 10m, and it has another 1.5m in spare capacity.)
Peak oil hasn't happened, and it's unlikely to happen for a very long time.
A report by the oil executive Leonardo Maugeri, published by Harvard University, provides compelling evidence that a new oil boom has begun. The constraints on oil supply over the past 10 years appear to have had more to do with money than geology. The low prices before 2003 had discouraged investors from developing difficult fields. The high prices of the past few years have changed that.
Maugeri's analysis of projects in 23 countries suggests that global oil supplies are likely to rise by a net 17m barrels per day (to 110m) by 2020. This, he says, is "the largest potential addition to the world's oil supply capacity since the 1980s". The investments required to make this boom happen depend on a long-term price of $70 a barrel – the current cost of Brent crude is $95. Money is now flooding into new oil: a trillion dollars has been spent in the past two years; a record $600bn is lined up for 2012.
The country in which production is likely to rise most is Iraq, into which multinational companies are now sinking their money, and their claws. But the bigger surprise is that the other great boom is likely to happen in the US. Hubbert's peak, the famous bell-shaped graph depicting the rise and fall of American oil, is set to become Hubbert's Rollercoaster.
Investment there will concentrate on unconventional oil, especially shale oil (which, confusingly, is not the same as oil shale). Shale oil is high-quality crude trapped in rocks through which it doesn't flow naturally.
There are, we now know, monstrous deposits in the United States: one estimate suggests that the Bakken shales in North Dakota contain almost as much oil as Saudi Arabia (though less of it is extractable). And this is one of 20 such formations in the US. Extracting shale oil requires horizontal drilling and fracking: a combination of high prices and technological refinements has made them economically viable. Already production in North Dakota has risen from 100,000 barrels a day in 2005 to 550,000 in January.
So this is where we are. The automatic correction – resource depletion destroying the machine that was driving it – that many environmentalists foresaw is not going to happen. The problem we face is not that there is too little oil, but that there is too much.
We have confused threats to the living planet with threats to industrial civilisation. They are not, in the first instance, the same thing. Industry and consumer capitalism, powered by abundant oil supplies, are more resilient than many of the natural systems they threaten. The great profusion of life in the past – fossilised in the form of flammable carbon – now jeopardises the great profusion of life in the present.
There is enough oil in the ground to deep-fry the lot of us, and no obvious means to prevail upon governments and industry to leave it in the ground. Twenty years of efforts to prevent climate breakdown through moral persuasion have failed, with the collapse of the multilateral process at Rio de Janeiro last month. The world's most powerful nation is again becoming an oil state, and if the political transformation of its northern neighbour is anything to go by, the results will not be pretty.
Humanity seems to be like the girl in Guillermo del Toro's masterpiece Pan's Labyrinth: she knows that if she eats the exquisite feast laid out in front of her, she too will be consumed, but she cannot help herself. I don't like raising problems when I cannot see a solution. But right now I'm not sure how I can look my children in the eyes.
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Only builders will profit from Cameron's sub-prime homes
Simon Jenkins, The Guardian, 23/11/2011
After the SS British Economy hit an iceberg three years ago, survivors were hauled from the freezing sea aboard the good ship Cameron. They assumed he'd be a more reliable helmsman. So what should they make of their new captain deciding to hurl his vessel at full speed towards the self-same iceberg?
David Cameron announced on Monday that he wants to "revive people's hopes and dreams of homeownership". He intends to use up to £650m of public money to reflate what is by definition the sub-prime end of the mortgage market. Public money will this time bail out not reckless bank mortgage lending, but reckless sales to individuals by private housebuilders. It is called kickstart, which is coalition speak for bailout.
Magic gold dust is the stock in trade of the politics of housing. Cameron, like all leaders exhilarating in spending public money, accords the owning of a home (cosy word for house) the status his forebears gave the church. He speaks spiritually of "that magic moment when you get the key and walk into your own flat". It is a dream, he says, "which should be available for everyone, not just the better off". His government wants to meet that hope and realise that dream.
With ministers said to be panicking about growth, every lobby in the country is rushing to town waving bottles of snake oil. Few are as powerful or persuasive as the housebuilders, sharing with bankers a responsibility for the world's current woes. The Guardian on Monday listed six almost identical housing initiatives in recent years. This kickstart is eerily similar to Labour's explicit Kickstart Housing Delivery plan of 2009, with the same subsidies for undeveloped sites and the same £400m incentives package. On each occasion the lobbyists come away with money in their pockets – but with the housing market unmoved. The market tracks not Whitehall initiative but the level of demand in the economy, and this tracking is as constant as government's belief in its power to break it.
On Monday the eager-beaver housing minister, Grant Shapps, indulged in the usual mission creep. "It is not a multimillion-pound expense," he said, which is what it is. The policy is to be "industry-led", with housebuilders "buying into the scheme". This is no wonder when they wrote the rules to enable them to profit risk-free. It is a lobbyist's charter.
There is some new help for renovating existing and derelict properties and some welcome land disposals, but no sign of an end to tax discrimination against repairs and conversions, where big gains in housing capacity are to be found. There is just an incantation of the developers' slogan that 230,000 homes are "needed nationwide", as if a home were a unit in a Leninist housing pool, rather than a flexible concept in a market responding to demand and supply.
There is no shortage of houses in Britain, indeed there is a raw surplus. Many are just too expensive for those who want to live in them. This is hardly new. Every chart of housebuilding and prices suggests that both will start turning up soon, along with mortgage availability, irrespective of government subsidy. The one thing that will send prices into a speculative spiral is a reckless return to Thatcher-style mortgage subsidies and Blair-style sub-prime lending.
The proper use of public money on housing is on the very poor. Here the policy is mystifying. Shapps asserts a hitherto unknown "right" of social tenants to buy the houses they rent. He is offering a 50% discount on the estimated purchase price, thus giving away half the value of the public housing stock, regardless of whether its not-for-profit owners agree. So much for localism and the "big society". This will be exacerbated by a little noticed concession to the housebuilders, releasing them from past promises to supply social housing on already permitted sites. This astonishing capitulation makes a mockery of planning localism.
Social housing remains hopelessly ill-defined in Britain, where 60,000 of its beneficiaries reportedly have second homes and hundreds of thousands more are well-off. Shapps even asserts a social right to a subsidised house near where one's parents live. When the Victorian social reformer, Octavia Hill, launched "three percent philanthropy" to aid the urban poor, she too was aiming away from real need. As Gareth Stedman-Jones wrote in Outcast London, Hill was helping not the truly desperate but a politically emergent class of "deserving poor". The same applied to municipal housing. Only after the second world war was access to a subsidised house loaded in favour of real need.
Under Margaret Thatcher housing subsidy wheeled upmarket, to promote homeownership. Tax relief was explicitly deployed as a means of sucking wage earners into homeownership (and Tory voting). The memoirs of Tory chancellors Lord Howe and Lord Lawson blaze with arguments with Thatcher on this. To her, subsidies were not to relieve housing distress but to aid those heroes of stability and growth, the deserving poor and middling rich. Housing politics has been skewed upmarket ever since.
Today's constant reference to the plight of young people "struggling to get on the housing ladder" reflects the reckless politics of the sub-prime crisis. It humiliated renting, inflated house prices, impoverished young people and ruined thousands in a frenzy of the "homeownership" bubble. Home owning peaked at 70% of Britons, against between 40% and 55% in Germany, France and the Netherlands. It leached savings from the economy and made British workers starkly immobile, compared with Germans or Japanese.
Much could be done to raise the status and availability of renting. The balance of security of tenure has tilted too far from tenant to landlord. Tilting it back could be balanced by fiscal incentives for converting and subletting. The latest kickstart echoes the cliches and slogans of the 1990s and 2000s, inducing hundreds of thousands on both sides of the Atlantic to sink their savings in to properties they could not afford.
The message is toxic. Even if the government is underpinning the housebuilders' side of the bargain, and the
money would be better spent on housing the poor, people should not be encouraged to borrow beyond their means in another gamble on rising prices. Sub-prime was an error more grotesque in its consequence than any could have foreseen. No responsible government should head that way again.
After the SS British Economy hit an iceberg three years ago, survivors were hauled from the freezing sea aboard the good ship Cameron. They assumed he'd be a more reliable helmsman. So what should they make of their new captain deciding to hurl his vessel at full speed towards the self-same iceberg?
David Cameron announced on Monday that he wants to "revive people's hopes and dreams of homeownership". He intends to use up to £650m of public money to reflate what is by definition the sub-prime end of the mortgage market. Public money will this time bail out not reckless bank mortgage lending, but reckless sales to individuals by private housebuilders. It is called kickstart, which is coalition speak for bailout.
Magic gold dust is the stock in trade of the politics of housing. Cameron, like all leaders exhilarating in spending public money, accords the owning of a home (cosy word for house) the status his forebears gave the church. He speaks spiritually of "that magic moment when you get the key and walk into your own flat". It is a dream, he says, "which should be available for everyone, not just the better off". His government wants to meet that hope and realise that dream.
With ministers said to be panicking about growth, every lobby in the country is rushing to town waving bottles of snake oil. Few are as powerful or persuasive as the housebuilders, sharing with bankers a responsibility for the world's current woes. The Guardian on Monday listed six almost identical housing initiatives in recent years. This kickstart is eerily similar to Labour's explicit Kickstart Housing Delivery plan of 2009, with the same subsidies for undeveloped sites and the same £400m incentives package. On each occasion the lobbyists come away with money in their pockets – but with the housing market unmoved. The market tracks not Whitehall initiative but the level of demand in the economy, and this tracking is as constant as government's belief in its power to break it.
On Monday the eager-beaver housing minister, Grant Shapps, indulged in the usual mission creep. "It is not a multimillion-pound expense," he said, which is what it is. The policy is to be "industry-led", with housebuilders "buying into the scheme". This is no wonder when they wrote the rules to enable them to profit risk-free. It is a lobbyist's charter.
There is some new help for renovating existing and derelict properties and some welcome land disposals, but no sign of an end to tax discrimination against repairs and conversions, where big gains in housing capacity are to be found. There is just an incantation of the developers' slogan that 230,000 homes are "needed nationwide", as if a home were a unit in a Leninist housing pool, rather than a flexible concept in a market responding to demand and supply.
There is no shortage of houses in Britain, indeed there is a raw surplus. Many are just too expensive for those who want to live in them. This is hardly new. Every chart of housebuilding and prices suggests that both will start turning up soon, along with mortgage availability, irrespective of government subsidy. The one thing that will send prices into a speculative spiral is a reckless return to Thatcher-style mortgage subsidies and Blair-style sub-prime lending.
The proper use of public money on housing is on the very poor. Here the policy is mystifying. Shapps asserts a hitherto unknown "right" of social tenants to buy the houses they rent. He is offering a 50% discount on the estimated purchase price, thus giving away half the value of the public housing stock, regardless of whether its not-for-profit owners agree. So much for localism and the "big society". This will be exacerbated by a little noticed concession to the housebuilders, releasing them from past promises to supply social housing on already permitted sites. This astonishing capitulation makes a mockery of planning localism.
Social housing remains hopelessly ill-defined in Britain, where 60,000 of its beneficiaries reportedly have second homes and hundreds of thousands more are well-off. Shapps even asserts a social right to a subsidised house near where one's parents live. When the Victorian social reformer, Octavia Hill, launched "three percent philanthropy" to aid the urban poor, she too was aiming away from real need. As Gareth Stedman-Jones wrote in Outcast London, Hill was helping not the truly desperate but a politically emergent class of "deserving poor". The same applied to municipal housing. Only after the second world war was access to a subsidised house loaded in favour of real need.
Under Margaret Thatcher housing subsidy wheeled upmarket, to promote homeownership. Tax relief was explicitly deployed as a means of sucking wage earners into homeownership (and Tory voting). The memoirs of Tory chancellors Lord Howe and Lord Lawson blaze with arguments with Thatcher on this. To her, subsidies were not to relieve housing distress but to aid those heroes of stability and growth, the deserving poor and middling rich. Housing politics has been skewed upmarket ever since.
Today's constant reference to the plight of young people "struggling to get on the housing ladder" reflects the reckless politics of the sub-prime crisis. It humiliated renting, inflated house prices, impoverished young people and ruined thousands in a frenzy of the "homeownership" bubble. Home owning peaked at 70% of Britons, against between 40% and 55% in Germany, France and the Netherlands. It leached savings from the economy and made British workers starkly immobile, compared with Germans or Japanese.
Much could be done to raise the status and availability of renting. The balance of security of tenure has tilted too far from tenant to landlord. Tilting it back could be balanced by fiscal incentives for converting and subletting. The latest kickstart echoes the cliches and slogans of the 1990s and 2000s, inducing hundreds of thousands on both sides of the Atlantic to sink their savings in to properties they could not afford.
The message is toxic. Even if the government is underpinning the housebuilders' side of the bargain, and the
money would be better spent on housing the poor, people should not be encouraged to borrow beyond their means in another gamble on rising prices. Sub-prime was an error more grotesque in its consequence than any could have foreseen. No responsible government should head that way again.
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