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Uncertainties…
Sallek Yaks Musa
Who could have imagined that, after finishing in the top three, James Cleverly – a frontrunner with considerable support – would be eliminated from the Conservative Party’s leadership race? Or that a global pandemic would emerge, profoundly impacting the course of human history? Indeed, one constant in our ever-changing world is the element of uncertainty.
Image credit: Getty images
The COVID-19 pandemic, which emerged in late 2019, serves as a stark reminder of our world’s interconnectedness and the fragility of its systems. When the virus first appeared, few could have foreseen its devastating global impact. In a matter of months, it had spread across continents, paralyzing economies, overwhelming healthcare systems, and transforming daily life for billions. The following 18 months were marked by unprecedented global disruption. Lockdowns, travel restrictions, and social distancing became the new norms, forcing us to rethink how we live, work, and interact.
The economic fallout was equally staggering. Supply chains crumbled, unemployment surged, and entire industries teetered on the brink of collapse. Education was upended as schools and universities hastily shifted online, exposing the limitations of existing digital infrastructure. Yet, amid the chaos, communities displayed remarkable resilience and adaptability, demonstrating the need for flexibility in the face of uncertainty.
Beyond health crises, the ongoing climate and environmental emergencies continue to fuel global instability. Floods, droughts, erratic weather patterns, and hurricanes such as Helene and Milton not only disrupt daily life but also serve as reminders that, despite advances in meteorology, no amount of preparedness can fully shield us from the overwhelming forces of nature.
For millions, however, uncertainty isn’t just a concept; it’s a constant reality. The freedom to choose, the right to live peacefully, and the ability to build a future are luxuries for those living under the perpetual threat of violence and conflict. Whether in the Middle East, Ukraine, or regions of Africa, where state and non-state actors perpetuate violence, people are forced to live day by day, confronted with life-threatening uncertainties.
On a more optimistic note, some argue that uncertainty fosters innovation, creativity, and opportunity. However, for those facing existential crises, innovation is a distant luxury. While uncertainty may present opportunities for some, for others, it can be a path to destruction. Life often leaves little room for choice, but when faced with uncertainty, we must make decisions – some minor, others, life-altering. Nonetheless, I am encouraged that while we may not control the future, we must navigate it as best we can, and lead our lives with the thought and awareness that, no one knows tomorrow.
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‘A de-construction of the term ‘Cost of Living Crisis’ in recognition of globalism’
The term ‘Cost of Living Crisis’ gets thrown around a lot within everyday discussion, often with little reference to what it means to live under a Cost-of-Living Crisis and how such a crisis is constituted and compares with crises globally. In this blog, I will unpack these questions.
The 2008 Global Financial Crash served as a moment of rupture caused and exacerbated by a series of mini events that unfolded on the world stage…. This partly led to the rise in an annual deficit impacting national growth and debt recovery. Then we entered 2010 when the Coalition Government led by David Cameron and Nick Clegg in the Conservative and Liberal Democrat parties implemented a Big Society Agenda, underpinned by an anti-statist ideology and Austerity politics. The legacies of austerity have extensively been highlighted in my own research as communities faced severed cutbacks to social infrastructure and resources, many of whom utilised these resources as a lifeline. Moving forward to the present day in 2024, austerity continues to be alive and well and the national debt has continued to rise…. Events including the Corona Virus Pandemic that started in 2019, Brexit and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine have amongst other events served as precipitators to an already existing economic downturn. The rise of interest rates and inflation have been partly led by disruptions to global supply chains, particularly essential and often taken for granted food resources such as wheat and grains. So too has political instability hindering opportunities to invest and grow the local economy contributed towards this economic downturn.
As inflation and interest rates rose, so too did the average cost of living in terms of expenditure and disposable income for both the Working and Middle-Classes. At this point, one can begin to see the emergence of the cost-of-living crisis as being constituted as an issue affecting social class.
The cost-of-living crisis is inherently a term deployed by the Middle Classes as some faced an increase of interest rates on their mortgages in addition to rising costs in the supermarkets. These are valid concerns and the reality and hardship produced under these conditions is not being contested. However, we must not lose sight of the fact that economic downturn and the reality of poverty is nothing new for many working-class communities, who have suffered from disinvestment and austerity, long before the term Cost of Living Crisis came into being.
Equally, we can understand the Cost-of-Living Crisis as being a construction led by Western states, as part of a wider Global North. The separation between the Global North and Global South is bound by geography, but economic growth and its globally recognised position as an emerged or emerging economy. Note that such constructions within themselves are applied by the Global North. Similarly, the Cost-of-Living Crisis is nothing new for these states. The reality of living below a breadline is faced by many of these countries in the Global South and should be understood as a wider systemic and global issue that members of the International Community have a moral obligation to address.
So, when applying terms such as the Cost-of-Living Crisis under every-day discussion, it is necessary to contemplate the historicisms behind such an experience and how life under poverty and hardship is experienced globally and indeed across our own communities. This will enable us to think more critically about this term Cost of Living Crisis, which as it is widely used, faces threat of oversight as to the prevalence and effects of global and local inequalities.
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The Importance of Lived Experience in Making Change
***There is a content warning for this post as it briefly mentions self-harm***
I am a mature student entering the 3rd year of my degree, joint honours psychology and criminology. My choice in academic study (and hopeful career path) is largely informed by my own life experiences which have and will continue to be one of my biggest strengths. I have been in mental health services as a patient since my pre-teens and I have worked in a variety of mental health settings including inpatient forensic mental health and rehabilitation. My criminological interest was piqued after being a victim to violent crimes as an adult. All of this, as well as some conversations I have had with lecturers and peers over the last 2 years, has me thinking about the influence and importance of lived experiences in our academic and career choices, and the opportunities that lived experiences create for making change and battling adversity.
When we experience anything in life, big or small, positive or negative, we can gain incredible insight about ourselves and the world around us in a way that we would never have done if we didn’t have those experiences. It can change or set the trajectory of our lives. When we are in the correct place in our lives, our recovery, our minds to be able to pour from a cup that isn’t empty, we can find ourselves in an amazing place where we can help others and inspire change for those who have experienced or are likely to experience what we have. Perhaps even the ones who never have and never will. All equally as important.
Every system, service, or organisation needs to have the input from those who have experienced it from the other side. We need to know how the work is being perceived at the other end. It can be really difficult to collate feedback, especially the positive stuff, or see end-to-end results and we find that if no-one speaks up, what will be done is the easy thing, the cheap thing, or the well-intentioned but mismatched thing. Of course, we may be able to go beyond advice and become a part of a service or a voice ourselves and ‘be the change.’ We can inspire change by instilling more trust in others that we truly understand their predicament and that we have moved or are moving through it, showing them that it is possible or that they’re not alone. It can be refreshing and a huge learning experience for others in the service, as a user or provider, who may be stuck, going through the motions unequipped with knowledge of how to make change for the better, especially in sectors that can be particularly challenging day-to-day.
If I may give a personal example from when I worked on a psychiatric ward for forensic rehabilitation. I worked with many patients who felt as though it was staff vs patients, that we couldn’t possibly know what it was like for them, that we were only there because we were paid, and because they were detained against their will, we had to keep them there. I didn’t hide my personal experiences, my real reasons for being there, but no one really asked so I didn’t shout about them either. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, for reasons of infection control, I had no choice but to obey a rule, ‘‘bare-below-the-elbow.’’ That meant I had to wear short sleeves on the ward. It meant revealing to my patients the scars I bear from self-harm. This prompted lots of questions, some less awkward than others, but it opened up so many wonderful conversations and breakthroughs. I spoke with my patients about knowing how that feels, that I’ve been on the medication they’re struggling with, and I’ve done the therapy they’re reluctant to try. It connected me to my patients and my work in such a wonderful way and meant my patients trusted me more, trusted the process more and engaged in ways they haven’t before. It meant that when decisions were made about patient care or ward processes, I could advocate from a place of empathy and understanding and in cases where people have their rights reduced or taken away, detained against their will, are vulnerable, are disadvantaged, we can’t do it enough.
Being loud about our experiences means raising awareness, breaking down stigma and stereotypes to create more inclusive and accepting societies, building supportive communities, and helping people along their path. It can serve as inspiration for people who may never have even given a thought to their experiences, things they witness or people who experience hardship and keep it under wraps.
Perhaps this even serves as a little nudge to be open to the experiences of others, to recognise and challenge your own biases, the things you may or may not understand. If you find yourself in a position to decide who to hire, interact with, which project to run; find the lived experience, consider the people who just need a little more support and feel like a little risk, because you never know what it could do. We can apply this to healthcare, criminology, charity, or anything that feels like it is our calling.
It can be such a tough and slow process, it won’t always be welcomed, it might not always work out. There may be people, services and societal norms or stigma that have an agenda or goals that don’t align with yours, not everybody likes change or will be willing to put in the effort. We may not always get the answers we are looking for because of the complex world we live in. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, right?
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Pregnancy and Lavender Fields
If being a women means that you will experience harm due to your socially constructed sex/gender, being pregnant and a mother certainly adds to this. The rose-tinted view of pregnancy implies that pregnancy is the most wonderful of experiences. There is imagery of the most privileged of mothers with their pregnancy ‘glow’, in fields of [insert flower here] holding their bumps with the largest of smiles. Outside of smiles and lavender field imagery, judgment is reserved for pregnant women who do not enjoy pregnancy. In a world of ‘equality gone mad’, it seems that whilst some pregnant women may have a variety of hurdles to face, it is presumed that they should carry on living in the exact same way as those who are not pregnant.
Maybe you lose your job upon becoming pregnant and your workplace does not provide you with sick pay when needed. Maybe it is harder for you to access healthcare and screenings due to racism and xenophobia. Perhaps it is a Covid-19 pandemic, your boss is a bit disgruntled that you are pregnant and despite the legal guidance stating that pregnant people should isolate you are told that you need to work anyway. Or perhaps you are quite ill during your pregnancy, you must try to cope and continue to work regardless, but must also hide this sickness from your customers and colleagues. Whilst at the same time it is unlikely that there are places for you to rest or be sick/ill in peace. If any time is taken off work you may then be considered as being work-shy by some. Despite it being well documented that some pregnancy related ill-health conditions, like hyperemesis, have serious consequences, such as the termination of pregnancy, death and mothers taking their own lives (with or without suitable interventions).
Before labour, if you go to the triage room screaming in pain, maybe you will need to wait some time at the reception for staff to assist you, and perhaps you may be asked to ‘be quiet’ so as to not disturb the equilibrium of the waiting room. Maybe your labour is incredibly painful but apparently you must ‘take it like a champ’ and pain relief medication may be withheld. Maybe you will receive a hefty bill from the NHS for their services due to your undocumented migrant status, refused asylum application or have no recourse to public funds. If experiencing pain post-labour, maybe your pain is disregarded, and you face life-threatening consequences due to this.
Once you become a mother maybe you are more exhausted than your partner, maybe your partner is a abusive, maybe they cannot push a pram, change nappies, calm a crying baby because of toxic masculinity. If your baby becomes upset (as they do sometimes) whilst out and about you may need a quite low sensory place to feed them, or for them to relax but there is nowhere suitable to go. If looking flustered or a bit dishevelled whilst out maybe you are treated as a shop-lifting suspect by security and shop assistants.
If you have the privilege of being able to return to work, ensure that you return within the optimum time frame as having too much or too little time off work is not viewed as desirable. Also, make sure you have some more babies but not too many as both would be deemed selfish. Whether you breastfeed or provide formula both options are apparently wrong, in different ways. If you do breastfeed and need to use a breast pump whilst returning to work you may find that there are no/or a limited amount of suitable rooms available on public transport, at transport hubs, in public venues and workplaces for using a breast pump. This, among with other factors, such as the state of the economy, the lack of/a poor amount of maternity pay, and childcare costs, make the ability to both maintain formal employment and be present as a healthy mother difficult. Notably, the differences, extent and severity of harmful experiences differ depending on power, your status and identity attributes, if your gender does not neatly fit into the white privileged/women/female/mother box you will face further challenges.
It seems that society, its institutions and people want babies to be produced but do not want to deal with the realities that come with pregnancy and motherhood.
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Media Madness
Unless you have been living under a rock or on a remote island with no media access, you would have been made aware of the controversy of Russell Brand and his alleged ‘historic’ problematic behaviour. If we think about Russell Brand in the early 2000s he displayed provocative and eccentric behaviour, which contributed to his rise to fame as a comedian, actor, and television presenter. During this period, he gained popularity for his unique style, which combined sharp wit, a proclivity for wordplay, and a rebellious, countercultural persona.
Brand’s stand-up comedy routines was very much intertwined with his personality, which was littered with controversy, something that was welcomed by the general public and bosses at big media corporations. Hence his never-ending media opportunities, book deals and sell out shows.
In recent years Brand has reinvented (or evolved) himself and his public image which has seen a move towards introspectivity, spirituality and sobriety. Brand has collected millions of followers that praise him for his activist work, he has been vocal on mental health issues, and he encourages his followers to hold government and big corporations to an account.
The media’s cancellation of Russell Brand without any criminal charges being brought against him raises important questions about the boundaries of cancel culture and the presumption of innocence. Brand, a controversial and outspoken comedian, has faced severe backlash for his provocative statements and unconventional views on various topics. While his comments have undoubtedly sparked controversy and debate, the absence of any criminal charges against him highlights the growing trend of public figures being held to account in the court of public opinion, often without a legal basis.
This situation underscores the importance of distinguishing between free speech and harmful behaviour. Cancel culture can sometimes blur these lines, leading to consequences that may seem disproportionate to the alleged transgressions. The case of Russell Brand serves as a reminder of the need for nuanced discussions around cancel culture, ensuring that individuals are held accountable for their actions while also upholding the principle of innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. It raises questions about how society should navigate the complex intersection of free expression, public accountability, and the potential consequences for individuals in the public eye.
There is also an important topic that seems to be forgotten in this web of madness……..what about the alleged victims. There seems to be a theme that continuously needs to be highlighted when criminality and victimisation is presented. There is little discussion or coverage on the alleged victims. The lack of media sensitivity and lay discussion on this topic either dehumanises the alleged victims by using lines such as ‘Brand is another victim of MeToo’ and comparing him to Cliff Richard and Kevin Spacey, two celebrities that were accused of sexual crimes and were later found not guilty, which in essence creates a narrative that does not challenge Brand’s conduct, on the basis of previous cases that have no connection to one another.
We also need to be mindful on the medias framing of the alleged witch hunt against Russell Brand and the problematic involvement that the UK government. The letter penned by Dame Dinenage sent to social media platforms in an attempt to demonetize Brand’s content should also be highlighted. While I support Brand being held accountable for any proven crimes he has committed, I feel these actions by UK government are hasty, and problematic considering there have been many opportunities for the government to step in on serious allegations about media personalities on the BBC and other news stations and they have not chosen to act. The step made by Dame Dinenage has contributed to the media madness and contributes to the out of hand and in many ways, nasty discussion around freedom of speech. The government’s involvement has deflected the importance of the victimisation and criminality. Instead, it has replaced the discussion around the governments overarching punitive control over society.
Brand has become a beacon of understanding to is 6.6 million followers during Covid 19 lockdowns, mask mandates and vaccinations. This was at a time when many people questioned government intentions and challenged the mainstream narratives around autonomy. Because Brand has been propped up as a hero to his ‘awakened’ followers the shift around his conduct and alleged crimes have been erased from conversation and debates around BIG BROTHER and CONTROL continue to shape the media narrative………
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Reflecting on Research Access
I am currently undertaking a part-time PhD and, as part of my qualitative research project, I need to keep a reflexivity diary, reflecting on my own position in relation to the subjects of my research. My first entry reflects on the process of negotiating access, and I thought it might make an interesting subject for a criminology blog!
As a reflexive qualitative researcher it is important constantly to reflect on my own position in relation to my research and my participants. I am about to start collecting data but only after a very lengthy process of negotiating access (12 months). This process was one in which my own position and history had a significant influence.
For my first project, I am conducting detailed qualitative interviews with serving prisoners. This required approval from the HMPPS National Research Committee (NRC). As a former HMPPS employee, I thought that my inside knowledge would be helpful – indeed at a later stage, in negotiating access to specific prisons, I think it has been. However, at the stage of submitting my application for national approval my prior experience added emotional baggage.
I worked for the Prison Service for nearly 12 years. I really enjoyed working with prisoners and I also enjoyed the camaraderie of working within the tight community of a prison. I worked with some lovely individuals who were dedicated to helping people and who supported me personally in my career. However, the Prison Service is a large, unwieldy organisation and large unwieldy organisations do not always treat individuals well. There were several times in my career when I felt that the organisation had treated me badly: when a recruitment freeze was introduced just after I passed the assessment centre so that I was stuck in limbo without a permanent job; when the in-house MSc was abolished (with no replacement) just before I was due to start it; when I ended up taking on my boss’ responsibilities as well as my own with no promotion or increase in pay; when my request to work part-time after maternity leave was declined; when my post was put on the “surplus list” during a phase of job cuts. It was not all negative – as I say, I enjoyed the work very much, I was proud to be a prison psychologist and there were times when the organisation was good to me (I eventually had a different distance learning MSc funded by the Prison Service, and I was able to take a 12 month career break following my maternity leave) but those negative incidents felt like personal insults when I was working hard. The biggest kick in the teeth came more recently in 2020 when I applied to re-join HMPPS when my tenure on the Parole Board came to an end. I had an unremarkable remote interview and was then turned down. I knew that HMPPS advertised for qualified psychologists every month, so there were plenty of vacancies – that they didn’t want me when I knew I was a good psychologist and had already given them the best years of my career really hurt.
Since then, I have started my PhD and secured a great job with St Andrew’s Healthcare which suits me better and has taken me in a new direction. The memory of the rejection was still lingering, however, when my initial research application to the HMPPS NRC was rejected. I felt like they were kicking me in the teeth again. My initial application was for a piece of research with both a quantitative and a qualitative element. The feedback in relation to the quantitative project was so devastating that I scrapped this part of the research altogether and focused on the qualitative part only. To be fair, the feedback was justified and the re-written proposal is for a much more methodologically sound piece of research, but it still felt personal at the time.
Conducting research during a pandemic is not easy. By the time I had responded to the NRC feedback and was ready to re-submit, there was a resurgence in COVID-19 cases and the NRC were not accepting any further applications. I was advised not to re-submit until applications were being accepted again, otherwise I would have been rejected with no chance to re-submit again. This caused a three-month delay and I had to chase to find out when applications re-opened. When I finally re-submitted, my application was not rejected, but I did receive a long list of requests for further information. Some of these seemed very petty. Responding to them was a significant piece of work and the sense of personal rejection and being made to jump through hoops returned. I was very grateful to one of my supervisors who read my responses before I submitted them and helped to remove the irritation that was evident!
Having submitted the answers to these further questions I waited for ages for a reply. By this stage, I was on first name terms with the reviewer on the NRC. She had sent my application for further feedback from the HMPPS Interventions Team (one of whom I had worked closely with in the past). I was given further questions to answer (which seemed to miss the point of what I was trying to achieve). I tried my hardest to remain positive and to suppress the irritation. HMPPS had the power and were entitled to it. They had every right to reject my research application. Just because I had been a good employee in the past, did not oblige them to give me research access. I resigned myself to receiving a final rejection and started to think of other ways to explore my research questions. And as I reached this point of acceptance, I finally received a positive response saying that my application had been accepted!
Since then, things have moved quickly. I revised my University ethics application in the light of all the amendments I had made following the HMPPS feedback and this was quickly approved. I approached individual prisons for specific access and received positive responses from HMP Grendon and HMP Onley – in these cases possibly reaping the benefits of personal connections from my time in the Prison Service. I will be going into HMP Grendon in early January to start to recruit participants. I no longer work for HMPPS or for the Parole Board, but my status as a Forensic Psychologist and as a former HMPPS employee and Parole Board member will have an influence on my relationships with participants. They will have had experiences with psychologists (and may have had experiences with the Parole Board) which may be positive or negative and which may facilitate or hinder trust in me as a researcher. I will need to look out for these influences and reflect on them as the research progresses.
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The decline of social interaction
I am writing about the decline of social interaction today – not because of my interest in sociological interactionist perspectives but because of the declining state of social interactions and the general lack of engagement in societies lately. Additionally, as we come to the end of Mental Health Awareness Week, it is important to reflect on the relationship between social interaction and mental health.
Previously, I have written about the students’ lack of engagement in classrooms and their unwillingness to participate and commit to their studies. In that blog, I tried to understand why students are becoming increasingly disinterested in their studies and why attendance has plummeted. I identified some interconnected issues that might be causing these problems, including anxiety, financial difficulties, lack of sense of belonging and the difficulties of readjusting to life after the pandemic. Furthermore, I have also tried to proffer some solutions for how I think students can resolve these challenges and detailed the importance of being part of a community. However, upon reflection, I realised that I might have underestimated the impact of social interactions in societies today.
First, I’d like to define social interactions as a meaning-making process. It is a process through which individuals exchange ideas, relate, manage information, and react to each other’s dealings. Of course, social interaction encompasses communication but constitutes characteristics like mannerisms, gesticulations, eye contact, smiling, slang, etc. Blumer (1969) lays bare the fundamental premise of this approach (and for the sociologists reading, I recognise the work of Mead, so don’t worry) by exploring some basic premises through which interactions form human character. While these characteristics are more appreciated physically, even though they may be passive sometimes, they create a different feel and richness for socialisation, relationships, and interaction. Not only that, they all constitute the genetic makeup of our social behaviour which invariably translates to our social character. However, in recent times, the nuances that we enjoy being physically engaged with one another seem to be slowly disappearing. Our digital presence, emoticons, Gifs, stickers and memes have replaced many of these characteristics and nuances.
It is important to note, though, that being among people, participating in discussions physically and forming peer relationships all provide us with a good recipe through which we can use to improve our psychological well-being, social interactions and skills. Take a ride on the underground trains in London during peak periods, for example, and you will hear how loud the silence is despite the crowded setting.
I believe that we are living in a time when people are becoming more and more disconnected from one another, and part of the problem also has to do with the consequences of the pandemic social distancing/quarantine rules – which was a necessary evil.
While the social distancing guidance may have been withdrawn, I think there seems to be a continuous trend where people keep each other’s distance even after the pandemic. Loneliness is becoming more perverse; people are becoming removed from social life, and procrastination seems to have taken centre stage.
Again, the rise and usage of multiple social media platforms have also put us where we are slowly replacing our physical presence with our digital presence. We can easily sit behind our WhatsApp, Twitter or TikTok for hours without speaking – but submerged in this digital world. While I am not in any way condemning the use of social media, I think we risk our physical interactions being replaced with digital interactions, which I also consider a contributing factor to the decline of social interactions we face today.
I agree that we all must move with time; we have to adjust ourselves to this new world, or else we will be left behind. However, I suggest not letting our physical engagement dissipate, nor should we allow our digital presence to become more important than our in-person presence. As indicated earlier, we are witnessing a decline in social interactions, but the task ahead of us as a society is to begin to consider ways to ameliorate this problem. There is value in social interaction, even if some might not see the benefits of it. Some studies in the past have found that ensuring good social interactions can improve psychological well-being. Thus, my assignment for everyone reading this blog today is to pick up your phone and check up on a loved one! The sun is out (well, for now); take a break and go out with your friends, have some food and drinks over the weekend, exchange some jokes, and smile!
Life, indeed, is a beautiful thing to have.
Reference
Blumer, H. (1969). Symbolic interactionism: Perspective and methods. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall.
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“My Favourite Things”: Paul
My favourite TV show - I prefer a movie any day.. episodes are draining
My favourite place to go - Home
My favourite city - London, Zanzibar, and Lagos... Ain’t no party like a Lagos party!
My favourite thing to do in my free time - Bonding with my toddler
My favourite athlete/sports personality - – BOXING: The Special One! Kell Brook
My favourite actor - Joe Pesci
My favourite author - Sidney Sheldon
My favourite drink - Depends.. Red wine after work or Whiskey for the Weekends
My favourite food - Medium Rare Steak, Lasagne (only from Rodizio Rico, O2 arena), or Egusi & Pounded Yam (Authentic)
My favourite place to eat - As long as the wine is delightful and the food is delicious, I don’t mind
I like people who - are generous & helpful
I don’t like it when people - don’t mind their business
My favourite book - The Doomsday Conspiracy
My favourite book character - Who has time to read fiction?
My favourite film - The Goodfellas, of course!
My favourite poem - 'The Second Coming' by William B Yeats
My favourite artist/band - FELA!
My favourite song - 1. Coffin for Head of State by Fela
2. The soundtrack of the Sound of Music – that’s one album I can listen to without skipping a track (My wife thinks I’m weird)
My favourite art - Jean Basquiat: GOD, LAW – an exceptional piece full of symbolism. I need to write a blog on this painting at some point!
My favourite person from history - My favourite person from history – Too many to name just one – but for the sake of this blog, I’ll go with Patrice Lumumba of the Democratic Republic of Congo
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When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic
This week a book was released which I both co-edited and contributed to and which has been two years in the making. When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic is a volume combining a range of accounts from artists to poets, practitioners to academics. Our initial aim of the book was borne out of a need for commemoration but we cannot begin to address this without considering inequalities throughout the pandemic.
Each of the four editors had both personal and professional reasons for starting the project. I – like many – was (and still is) deeply affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. When we first went into lockdown, we were shown the data every day, telling us the numbers of people who had the virus and of those who had died with COVID-19. Behind these numbers, I saw each and every person. I thought about their loved ones left behind, how many of them died alone without being able to say goodbye other than through a video screen. I thought about what happened to the bodies afterwards, how death rites would be impacted and how the bereaved would cope without hugs and face to face social support. Then my grandmother died. She had overcome COVID-19 in the way that she was testing negative. But I heard her lungs on the day she died. I know. And so, I became even more consumed with questions of the COVID-19 dead, with/of debates. I was angry at the narratives surrounding the disposability of people’s lives, at people telling me ‘she had a good innings’. It was personal now.
I now understood the impact of not being able to hug my grandpa at my grandmother’s funeral, and how ‘normal’ cultural practices surrounding death were disturbed. My grandmother loved singing in choirs and one of the traumatic parts of our bereavement was not being able to sing at her funeral as she would have wanted and how we wanted to remember her. Lucy Easthope, a disaster planner and one of my co-authors speaks of her frustrations in this regard:
“we’ve done something incredibly traumatising to the families that is potentially bigger than the bereavement itself. In any disaster you should still allow people to see the dead. It is a gross inhumanity of bad planning that people couldn’t’t visit the sick, view the deceased’s bodies, or attend funerals. Had we had a more liberal PPE stockpile we could have done this. PPE is about accessing your loved ones and dead ones, it is not just about medical professionals.”
The book is divided into five parts, each addressing a different theme all of which I argue are relevant to criminologists and each part including personal, professional, and artistic reflections of the themes. Part 1 considered racialised, classed, and gendered identities which impacted on inequality throughout the pandemic, asking if we really are in this together? In this section former children’s laureate Michael Rosen draws from his experience of having COVID-19 and being hospitalised in intensive care for 48 days. He writes about disposability and eugenics-style narratives of herd immunity, highlighting the contrast between such discourse and the way he was treated in the NHS: with great care and like any other patient.
The second part of the book considers how already existing inequalities have been intensified throughout the pandemic in policing, law and immigration. Our very own @paulsquaredd contributed a chapter on the policing of protests during the pandemic, drawing on race in the Black Lives Matter protests and gender in relation to Sarah Everard. As my colleagues and students might expect, I wrote about the treatment of asylum seekers during the initial lockdown periods with a focus on the shift from secure and safe self-contained housing to accommodating people seeking safety in hotels.
Part three considers what happens to the dead in a pandemic and draws heavily on the experiences of crematoria and funerary workers and how they cared for the dead in such difficult circumstances. This part of the book sheds light on some of the forgotten essential workers during the pandemic. During lockdown, we clapped for NHS workers, empathised with supermarket workers and applauded other visible workers but there were many less visible people doing valuable unseen work such as caring for the dead. When it comes to death society often thinks of those who cared for them when they were alive and the bereaved who were left to the exclusion of those who look after the body. The section provides some insight into these experiences.
Moving through the journey of life and death in a pandemic, the fourth section focusses on questions of commemoration, a process which is both personal and political. At the heart of commemorating the COVID-19 dead in the UK is the National COVID Memorial Wall, situated facing parliament and sat below St Thomas’ hospital. In a poignant and political physical space, the unofficial wall cared for by bereaved family members such as Fran Hall recognises and remembers the COVID dead. If you haven’t visited the wall yet, there will be a candlelit vigil walk next Wednesday, 29th March at 7pm and those readers who live further afield can digitally walk the wall here, listening to the stories of bereaved family members as you navigate the 150,837 painted hearts.
The final part of the book both reflects on the mistakes made and looks forward to what comes next. Can we do better in the next pandemic? Emergency planner Matt Hogan presents a critical view on the handling of the pandemic, returning to the refrain, ‘emergency planning is dead. Long live emergency planning’. Lucy Easthope is equally critical, developing what she has discussed in her book When the Dust Settles to consider how and what lessons we can learn from the management of the pandemic. Lucy calls out for activism, concluding with calls to ‘Give them hell’ and ‘to shout a little louder’.
Concluding in his afterword, Gary Younge suggests this is ‘teachable moment’, but will we learn?
When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic is published by Policy Press, an imprint of Bristol University Press. The book can be purchased directly from the publisher who offer a 25% discount when subscribing. It can also be purchased from all good book shops and Amazon.
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Cash Strapped, Vote-Buying, Petroleum Scarcity, and the Challenge of a 21st Century Election
Democratic elections are considered an important mechanism and a powerful tool used to choose political leaders. However, the level of transparency and the safety of votes, the electorates, and the aspirants as recent elections in supposed strong democracies indicate is not a given. Even more, in weak and fragile states, voters grapple with uncertainties including the herculean task of deciding on whom or perhaps what to pledge allegiance to?
Nigerians face such uncertainties as over 93 million voters are set to decide the new leadership of the most populous country in Africa in less than 24 hours. Three contestants: Ahmed Bola Tinubu of the ruling All Progressive Congress (APC); Peter Obi of the Labour Party(LP); and Atiku Abubakar of the Peoples Democratic Party (PSP) are considered the major contestants of the coveted seat of the presidency. All 3 contestants are neither strangers to political power nor free of controversies. Nevertheless, a plethora of problems awaits the successful candidate, including a spiking impatience with government policies from the populace.
Since assuming office in 2015, President Muhammadu Buhari has consciously implemented numerous policies aimed at changing the tide of the crippling economy of Nigeria. One of this was tightening control of foreign exchange and forex restrictions to minimise pressure on the weak exchange rate of the naira against other currencies, and to encourage local manufacturing. Furtherance to this, the government implemented more restrictions including closing all its land borders in August 2019 to curtail smuggling contrabands and to boost agricultural outputs. These policies have been criticised for increasing the hardship of the mostly poor masses and failing to yield desired goals, despite its resulting in an increase in local production of some agricultural products.
The aviation sector and multinational companies were also heavily impacted by the forex restrictions. International airliners were unable to access and repatriate their business funds and profits. As a result, some suspended operations while some multinationals closed down completely. Flawed policy articulation and implementation and a slow or total failure to respond to public disenchantment has been the bane of the 8 years of Buhari regime which ends in a few months. While the masses grappled with surviving movement restrictions during the Covid-19 lockdown, palliative meant for to ease their suffering were hoarded for longer than necessary, thereby provoking series of mass looting and destruction of the storage warehouses.
Demands for action and accountability over police reform also assumed a painful dimension. On 20 October 2020, peaceful protesters demanding the abolishment of a notoriously corrupt, brutal, rogue, and stubborn police unit called SARS were attacked by government forces who killed at least 12 protesters. Incidents as this supports Nigeria’s ranking as an authoritarian regime on the democratic index. Unsurprisingly, the regime appears numb to the spate of violence, insecurity, and recurring killings perpetrated by a complex mix of militias, criminal groups, terrorists, and state institutions as the #EndSARS massacre demonstrates. Thus, a wave of migration among mainly skilled and talented young Nigerians now manifests as a #Japa phenomenon. The two most impacted sectors, health and education ironically supply significant professionals in nations where the political class seek medical treatment or educate their children while neglecting own sectors.
Certainly, the legacy of the Buhari regime would be marred by these challenges which his party presidential candidate and prominent party stalwarts have distanced from. Indeed, they fear electorates would vote against the party as a protest over their suffering. Suffice it that Nigerians lived through the previous year in acute scarcity and non-availability of petroleum products, which further deepened inflation. Currently, cash scarcity is causing untold hardship due to the implementation of a currency redesign and withdrawal limits policy. The timing of the implementation of the policy coincides with the election and is thought to aim at curtailing vote-buying as witnessed in party primary elections. However, there is no guarantee that bank officials would effectively implement the policy.
Thus, as Nigeria decides, the 3 contestants present different realities for the country. For some, voting in the ruling APC candidate who has a questionable history could mean a continuation of the woes endured during the Buhari regime. The PDP candidate who was instrumental in the 2015 election of Buhari has severally been fingered for numerous controversies and corruption, despite having not been prosecuted for any. Similarly, allegations levelled against the LP candidate who has found wide popularity and acceptance amongst the young population has not resulted in any prosecution. However, while the candidate is popular for his anti-establishment stance and desire to change the current system, it is unclear if his party which has no strong political structure, serving governors, or representatives can pull the miracle his campaign has become associated with to win the coveted seat.
Thoughts from the criminology team 