The nearest equivalent to our present worldwide pandemic was the so-called ‘Spanish flu’. When it took hold in 1918, World War One was still in progress and both sides downplayed the crisis. In neutral Spain, however, it got full coverage and that is why the outbreak was wrongly labelled as Spanish. Estimates of deaths worldwide vary from 17 million to 50 and even 100 million. There is greater certainty about the island of Ireland -- still undivided at the time – with 23,000 deaths over a 12-month period, out of 800,000 who were infected (see www.ouririshheritage.org).
The only person I ever remember talking about it was my mother, who spoke movingly of the effect on her home district in eastern County Galway. Currently, the potential number of coronavirus deaths has been estimated at 15,000 in the north alone by Health Minister Robin Swann, so we could end up with an even higher mortality rate than the Spanish flu for the entire island. But hopefully we can reduce that with greater state intervention, better health facilities and a higher level of public awareness than was the case in 1918.
It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good and, strangely enough, the present pandemic has increased the standing of the outgoing Fine Gael-led administration in Dublin headed by Leo Varadkar. In the general election, the party came in third behind Fianna Fáil and Sinn Féin and, naturally, the Taoiseach got his share of the blame. But in light of the way he has handled the current crisis, Leo’s status is edging closer to hero than zero.
The high point for him so far was his televised address to the nation at on St Patrick’s Day at 9pm. Speeches like this normally have a positive impact and Varadkar delivered it well. Rather daringly for an Irish prime minister, he paraphrased Winston Churchill’s praise of the RAF in the Battle of Britain, by saying that, when healthcare staff tackle the anticipated surge in coronavirus cases, “never will so many ask so much of so few”. Eamon de Valera, given his famous 1945 spat with Churchill over Ireland’s wartime neutrality, may be turning in his grave.
Varadkar isn’t lacking in a sense of drama. Five days beforehand, during the annual political pilgrimage to the US and the White House, he departed from the official programme to announce that schools, colleges and childcare facilities would close until March 29th. Shortly afterwards we had the extraordinary sight of pubs all over the state closing doors. Who could have thought that ‘Paddy’s Day’ would come around and we couldn’t go for a pint of stout or watch the annual parade? This was the world – certainly Ireland’s world – turned upside down.
The approach in the north was more gradual but, in the end, still quite dramatic. No doubt many nationalists, at least, would have liked to see action being taken simultaneously in both parts of the island but, since the north is (still) part of the United Kingdom, unionists in particular feel the need to generally remain in step with London, not least because of the latter’s funding role.
There has been an unusual level of cross-party unity in the south on how to deal with the crisis. A set of emergency measures was passed in Dáil Éireann last Thursday without a vote. This contrasts with the public disagreements in the Stormont Executive but, judging from yesterday’s Mark Carruthers interview with Arlene Foster and Michelle O’Neill on BBC’s ‘Sunday Politics’, we seem to have moved on from that. As the Taoiseach has said, speaking in global terms: “We’re all in this together.”