11 The Coronavirus Calendar

In Spain, a favorite conversation topic is the magic date when confinement will finally end. People are fed up with staying at home, and are looking forward to the day when they will be released from their imprisonment. We are all tired and would like to put a large X somewhere on our calendar. Initially, the official (though somewhat surrealistic) date was 26 April.

The members of the Spanish government, several of whom have had the lighter version of the coronavirus, are also well aware that the Spaniards are weary. The government is thus making great efforts to radiate hope and optimism so that the general populace will believe that quarantine will soon end. The stick is always more bearable when it is followed by reasonable assurance of a future carrot.

Furthermore, no political party wants to be unpopular, and winning the elections in times of coronavirus has been a poisoned apple. It is now infinitely more comfortable to be in the opposition because there is no lack of things that the government has done wrong, and thus there is much to criticize.

Unfortunately, the cabinet members, who find it difficult to agree on anything, even the seating arrangement in congress, also appear unable to agree on the exact day when confinement will end, or at least this is reflected in the mixed messages that they have been sending out.

A few days ago, the Minister of Finance appeared on television to inform us that after 26 April, we would be able to begin to return to our normal lives. For some of us, this statement was met with unmitigated incredulity and provided a much-needed moment of comic relief. For the more gullible (i.e. a significant percentage of the population living in the mental bubble-wrap that currently predominates in large sectors of the country and world), the Minister’s statement was met with ecstatic joy because at long last, there was a date when they would be able to get their lives back.

Nevertheless this joy was as short-lived as a consumptive mayfly. In a press conference the following day, the Minister of Transportation was forced to contradict the Minister of Finance. His words made it clear that this overly optimistic prediction was not going to happen in this world or in any other possible world.

When asked by (evil) reporters, who tend to focus on uncomfortable issues, whether confinement would really be over on 26 April, he hemmed and hawed, but finally admitted that there was currently no date when life would return to normal. My neighbor (with whom I occasionally talk from across the hallway) was understandably upset and vociferously criticized him and his relatives (both living and dead), calling them various unrepeatable names.

Evidently this was something that no one wished to believe, and this was made easier by the fact that the credibility of the Minister of Transportation was at a new low because recently he had been caught in a web of lies related to another issue.

Of course, this is hardly a great scandal because in Spain, politicians are not expected to be particularly truthful or honest. Indeed, everyone expects them to be deceitful, devious, and double-dealing. Those who are not defined by these default values are considered candidates for sainthood. In the many years that I have lived in Spain, I can only recall two politicians that were honest, and both are still spoken of in tones of reverence and awe.

Given the disbelief of the public, who secretly hoped that the Minister of Transport was lying once again, the government had to send in heavier artillery to burst the bubble of unfounded hope that they had mistakenly created. The Minister of Health then came to the rescue and solemnly reiterated that the magic date would not be 26 April. Any partial or total release from confinement would ultimately depend on the evolution of coronavirus infections and deaths.

Currently, our new plateau (formerly a peak) resembles the seismogram of an earthquake-sensitive region undergoing a sequence of light earth tremors. One day deaths are up, the next they are down, and then they go up again. These variations might be real or they might depend on who is doing the counting. No one knows.

Unfortunately, according to the latest statistics, Spain is not doing particularly well. We may have reached the peak, but we still have a long way to go before numbers are even remotely acceptable. The descent from Mount Everest is hardly the same as the descent from Bunker Hill.

Previous to the coronavirus, Spain was only world leader in number of organ donations and number of cloistered convents. Now we also lead the world in number of coronavirus deaths per million inhabitants (344), and people are worried and alarmed as well they should be.

In contrast, the USA now has 57 deaths per million. Compared to Spain, this is not so many. However, last week, in my fourth post, I also mentioned this figure for the USA, which was then at 22 deaths per million. Even those who failed math in high school can see that since last week, the figure has more than doubled. This probably does not seem so important because a large percentage of these deaths have occurred in New York, which is a far-off planet in a distant galaxy, light years away from Wyoming or Montana. So, no one really cares, but they should.

The bottom line is that everyone in Spain wants to have a date to look forward to. Everyone wants an excuse and an opportunity to celebrate, which is an activity that this country is particularly good at. Unfortunately, that will not happen any time in the near future.

Yesterday, Pedro Sánchez, the president of Spain, poured the definitive pitcher of cold water over the hopeful fervor of the bubble-wrapped people. He publicly stated in Congress that after 26 April, it would be necessary to prolong confinement into May. A survey is going to be made of 62,400 people in the next three weeks so the government can obtain more information. (Until now, they have been basically clueless.) However, according to a recent study by experts in epidemiology, who are the ones that really know something, there is little hope of returning to even a new normal until after 1 June at the earliest.

When the confinement first began in March, each of the members of my research group put five euros into a pot along with the date that each of us thought would mark the end of confinement. My guess (31 May) was the most pessimistic. However, even those who initially did not believe me have now acknowledged that I am the virtual winner.

So suddenly I have become rich, but with no place to spend my newly acquired fortune. I have told them that when all of this madness is over, I will use the money to invite them out for a real wine moment, and we will celebrate the simple joy of being together again.