Raymond Taams – A winter story (8)
The summer was still going, but the terraces were allowed to reopen at the end of May. Jos discovered a new catering spot on the quay of a former industrial estate near Cartesiusweg. A stage was set up under a tent where bands performed, creating a somewhat festival feeling.
We spent almost all Friday and Saturday evenings here in the summer months. Then September came, and a strange thing happened. At the start of the corona outbreak, German Chancellor Angela Merkel had claimed that 60 percent of the population would eventually become infected. No problem, she added, because only a small number of them got serious complaints. The argument for the major land closures at the beginning of 2020 was therefore to keep the pressure on intensive care low.
In September, the focus suddenly shifted from media and politics to the number of infections. News reports with headlines such as ‘Today 200 more infections than yesterday in the Netherlands’ filled screens and newspapers. In addition, ‘Cojona’, as my favorite YouTube presenter Robert Jensen called it, was increasingly politicized. President Trump held major election rallies in America to demonstrate that the dangers of the virus were not too bad and the freedom of movement of citizens outweighed. Far-left figures, on the other hand, called on social media for even stricter measures. I thought that was logical, socialists had always dreamed of a government that controls everything and everyone.
Normal human discussions had become impossible because of the contact restrictions. Digital conversations were increasingly reminiscent of the famous experiment in which people shock each other without seeing the other. You were carelessly dismissed as ‘stupid’ or ‘crazy’ when you dared to comment on government policy. Unbelievable how dystopian society had become in a short time.
I found myself too intelligent to believe in conspiracies. I loved Robert Jensen, I really enjoyed his anti-government tirades on YouTube. “Europe has fallen,” he grumbled a day before the US presidential election. By that, Jensen meant that European leaders had succumbed to a secret globalist plan to subdue the world. Re-election of Donald Trump would save America the same fate, but, he added, fraud was likely.
Completely relaxed, Trump delivered a victory speech the morning after the poll, despite his opponent winning according to the official account. Election fraud seemed plausible to me, crazier things have happened in world history. But a planet-spanning conspiracy by a small group of people? No, the Homo sapiens were stupid enough to get themselves into trouble without conspiracy.
I tasted a hunger for a comprehensive explanation for the madness in many people in my area. “IC capacity, the Dutch government has cut the number of beds for years, now everyone has to stay at home to prevent this from coming to light,” thought a friend. “Collective mental perfect storm,” was a neighbor’s diagnosis.
On Monday December 14, a very strict land closure was suddenly announced by Prime Minister Rutte. “The Netherlands will be locked up,” he said sternly from behind the desk in his study. Outside, protesters whistled clearly audibly during the live televised address. Alone in my high flat, where the Christmas tree twinkled without any view of warmth or proximity, I watched a conversation on the Internet between philosophers and journalists. Presenter Jort Kelder, Mark Rutte’s best friend, sat at the table. “Let’s be honest: the corona measures are there to ensure that baby boomers will soon be able to ride around on their electric bicycles without worries, enjoying a stable pension,” sighed Kelder.
Jort and Mark appeared in my mind’s eye, having a drink together. “You are right Jort”, said Mark, “but I want to be re-elected soon and that cannot be done without the support of the gray part of the population.” The second half of December felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my throat. Streets were empty, friends and acquaintances mainly focused on family. Rationally I knew it was unwise to lose myself in the internet, on the other hand it was the only way to feel in touch with the outside world.
Some opinions on the socials made me furious. People who thought they were good by ‘stay in!’ to tweet, ignoring that millions of fellow countrymen did not have a pleasant home. Slowly, no one took notice of my fate. Just like Dad betrayed me by strangling a toddler first and then committing suicide. Hatred for Daddy’s generation settled in me. Luckily he was dead, and I was enjoying his pennies instead of going through the woods on his electric bike. Continuous land closures, however, put an abrupt end to my steep social learning curve.
To be continued tomorrow …
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