“In a crisis everyone’s a socialist.” It’s a bold refrain that has echoed from commentators across the political spectrum; an observation of governments around the world that are scrambling to mitigate the effects of a pandemic on both citizens and economies. Advocates of laissez-faire deregulation have been forced to embrace state intervention and central banks are (once again) propping up national and international markets. Although it would be a little premature to declare covid-19 as the death knell of neoliberalism, it has certainly illuminated the structural shortcomings of an ideology vociferous against financial regulations.

Yet the remark is more than just a comment on an institutional swing towards socially-inclined policies: it also nods to the neighbourhoods and nations that have been pulled together by a common threat. Whether it’s the huge response to the NHS’s Goodsam scheme or community groups that have sprung up across the nation, we seem to have rediscovered our kinship and there is an infectious spirit of mucking-in together. Events such as the Thursday night round of applause are testament to a palpable patriotism that politicians have been eager to tap into.

As with all crises, this latest scourge has its peculiarities: its entrance onto the world stage was unforeseen and startlingly fast. Yet in many ways the response to this mortal threat has been both rational and predictable. Of course we must rally around health services; naturally communities come together to look out for the most vulnerable; no question we put aside our grander aspirations and hunker down for the foreseeable. This is hardly a mass conversion to leftist agendas: common sense has simply become common.

But in spite of the rare – and, it should be noted, temporary – consensus that we should collectively forgo any behaviour which might transmit the virus; it would be simplistic to equate this unity of action to a worldwide altruistic awakening. As the general populace has adopted the suspension of civil liberties with grim stoicism, shows of self-interest and indifference have become all the more obvious. Cue the zealous finger pointing at those considered not to be toeing the line. Just look at the tabloids that have been quick to vilify dog-walkers, cyclists, and sunbathers.

Certainly we should neither condone nor encourage flagrant displays of selfishness. But this raucous tub-thumping is not only unhelpful; it also carries a whiff of hypocrisy. Many of those who now indulge in self-righteous indignation are conspicuously quiet on other matters of existential import (the WHO estimates that climate change already kills over 150 000 annually).

Furthermore, this high profile proselytising diverts attention from far graver offences against the public interest. Some companies have been slow to furlough staff, putting the onus of deciding whether or not to go to work on employees who live from paycheque to paycheque. Others that have pursued aggressive tax avoidance policies are now seeking government aid. Elsewhere, some multi-national businesses have been asking staff to take unpaid holiday leave whilst simultaneously paying six figure dividends to shareholders. This is only less sensational than stockpiling canned veg because it has long been the norm.

Although there have indeed been occasional instances of dishonourable conduct on the part of a small minority, the furore that these deviations from public decency provoke is indicative of a latent puritanism that divides rather than reconciles. It seems that some among us have been taken by a fit of virtue signalling and positively delight in asserting the moral high ground over those who they judge to have fallen out of step. Vital as it is that we all heed expert and government advice, the worthy policing of relatively minor transgressions does nothing to help community cohesion at a time when cooperation is key.

Many have noted the indiscriminate assault of the virus that afflicts all echelons of society. But far from being a great leveller, the illness shines a light on the precarity that millions deal with daily. Long before being hooked up to ICU ventilators (god forbid), there are many for whom solitary confinement really is the prison sentence it sounds like. While some of us are busy making home improvements and warming to the perks of working from home, domestic abuse, food insecurity, and deteriorating mental health are just some of the resultant ailments that are on the rise. It goes without saying that these overwhelmingly affect lower-income households.

As ever, closer analysis of national unity in the face of a common danger calls for a little more nuance than the binary socialism/conservatism axis on which we typically locate ourselves. It’s true that on the economic front, out-and-out liberalism has failed us. Incapable of caring for all social strata when the going gets tough, the omniscient market has proved to be a myth. Yet this doesn’t directly translate to a more socially democratic revival. We’re caught in a curious cocktail of competing principles that don’t normally hang together. Exactly how the nation will be morally and ideologically oriented in the wake of this crisis remains unclear. But if the 2008 crash is taken as a yardstick for responding to a world crisis, it seems more likely that we gravitate back towards a pre-covid state of affairs rather than implementing a more progressive political programme. As a percentage of GDP, global debt is currently higher than ever. With this debt overhang exacerbated by the pandemic, a return to austerity – and its ensuing impacts on social equality – is to be expected.