We’re all feeling it. The unsettling sensation of long-established routines falling away. Habits we’ve internalised are put on hold as the sequence of daily events is restructured or abandoned entirely. It’s disconcerting for everyone: unforeseen, abrupt, indefinite. Whether it’s the pre-work pilates class or the post-work pint at the local, we’re all missing the moments normally taken for granted. On top of this, an initial lack of direction from the powers that be had many of us scratching our heads and pulling our hair out at the prospect of looming bills and redundancy. Meanwhile, the stream of unanswered (and often unanswerable) questions has plunged the planet into existential quandary.

Each passing day the commitments and conventions that underpin our lives are suspended and the need for certitude and assurance becomes ever more acute. Exciting as improvisation can sometimes sound, we’re creatures of habit. Knowing where we are going and how we’ll get there is a reassuring remedy to the pressures of modern life. Overnight, cracks have appeared in the structural framework that holds society together. The aspirations that guide our quotidian efforts – exams, holidays, weddings, or any number of targets we’ve held in our sights – have now moved beyond reach. Recalibrating to this time of apprehension and uncertainty demands that we navigate a sea of variables and narrow our attention to the basics: food, shelter, health.

Certainly, with the supply chain in disarray and bare necessities hard to come by, keeping stocked-up with essentials has gone from being a menial, mechanical task to a struggle never before experienced by younger generations. Previously tedious elements of the day – commuting or queuing at the coffee kiosk – are now sorely missed. For all the hassle and frustration that these mindless activities might entail, they are nonetheless important times of transition that help us through the day. In these days of reduced movement and isolation, we realise the value of moments that we used to think of as automatic and interim.

Perhaps most perturbing is the sudden merging of formerly distinct environments. In normal circumstances the space for leisure and relaxation, home must now serve as office, school, gym, infirmary… often all at once. The boundaries separating the different aspects of our lives have been blurred, dividing our concentration between a variety of commitments. Working from home has long been possible and collaborating remotely with colleagues will likely not be an entirely new experience for many of us. But the recent imposed change of location exposes the under-appreciated advantages of the collective workspace. For all the inconvenience of stuffy clothes, rush hour, and packed lunches, things get done in a building of busy co-workers. Productivity breeds productivity. Likewise, distraction breeds distraction.  

Caught in the calamity and confusion it’s easy to become demotivated. Business as usual is all but impossible and with the situation changing with each public broadcast, it’s difficult to decide on a precise course of action. As the novelty of this change of affairs wears thin, ennui and despair can quickly set in. And with optimism dampened by each wave of government restrictions and financial hurdles, silver linings become increasingly hard to spot. When they are pointed out – for instance the massive reductions in carbon emissions at industrial heartlands around the world – the mood for felicitation is conspicuously absent. Unfortunately, recent environmental triumphs look more like pyrrhic victories when we factor in the costs to economic and human health that occasioned them.

So what can we celebrate? Unsurprisingly, our appetite for cheer is quelled by impending illness and stretched public services. But amid the gloomy headlines and limits to civil liberties, consolation can be found in the revival of community spirit so easily neglected in the ordinary urban rush. Neighbours previously strangers to each other have been quick to come together. Whatsapp and Nextdoor apps have connected neighbourhoods, offering support with shopping, advice on wellbeing, and a space where lonely or isolated residents can find comfort and companionship (virtual though it may be). Within hours of being created, the NHS volunteering scheme received thousands of applicants. Other charities have been inundated with requests from individuals eager to help in any way they can. Notwithstanding the need for social distancing, the sense of solidarity is palpable and a common bond of camaraderie can be felt in many public areas.

Metropolitan living has often been portrayed as an impersonal experience devoid of social cohesion. Upon moving to London, William Wordsworth described a place where ‘Even next-door neighbours [are] still/ Strangers, and not knowing each other’s names’. This sense of detachment from those around you is something we’ve probably all felt – particularly in cities. It has been exacerbated and encouraged by the neoliberal ideology that champions self-serving individuals above collective groups working together for the common good. The same philosophy is evoked by businessmen who insist upon their “self made” virtues and operate with an attitude of “every man for himself”.

In reality, this rather repulsive caricature is a crude representation of modern humans. With the notable exception of a small number of world leaders, we tend to be pleasant and well meaning in our everyday interactions and regularly indulge in acts of kindness and generosity. But this benevolence has a hard time radiating beyond the personal sphere. When it comes to issues outside our immediate surroundings we struggle to engage and generally choose to distance ourselves from dilemmas facing the wider world. Behavioural scientists use the term ‘compassion fatigue’ to explain how we become almost indifferent to the daily deluge of bad news that affronts us. It’s not that we’re bad people but that we feel powerless to change national and international issues.

Yet with Government now demanding that we change our behaviour, we are forced to consider the consequences of our actions upon society at large. This kind of thinking on a grander scale whilst acting on a local level can counter the ‘empathy crisis’ discerned by sociologists. The challenges we now face make clear the importance of small-scale cooperation for the benefit of entire nations. In such urgent conditions, we are forced to recognise our mutual dependence. Although not desirable in itself, this pandemic is bringing us closer together. Learning to look beyond ourselves and empathise with unknown communities is an undeniably positive fallout of these difficult times. Let’s hope it remains long after normal life has been restored.