Let them eat Deliveroo cake: the benign indifference of the middle classes in Coronavirus lockdown

Another day, another dispiriting article by an out-of-touch journalist bemoaning lack of middle class freedoms. Simon Jenkins in the Guardian complains “Why can I visit a DIY shop but not a museum? This total lockdown is failing”. Perhaps because in a lockdown, a plunger may be essential, Simon; a peek at the Parthenon Marbles, less so.

He laments “Why can I crowd Oxford’s supermarkets but not its Ashmolean Museum? Why are people trusted to “socially distance” in a DIY shop but not in a garden centre or a National Trust park? My local hardware store can sell from its front door, but not my local pub.” He does not think of the staff needed to risk getting the virus in order to serve people in garden centres and museums; the hourly paid workers in cloakrooms and car parks and sitting as security guards. Far from it.

I am no philistine and see the obvious value in our collective appreciation of the visual arts: I studied Classics to masters level, and before lockdown went to museums and art galleries on a weekly basis. I also see the value, nevertheless, in sticking to government guidelines in order to keep well.

In a similar vein, last week upmarket department store Selfridges announced on their website that they are reopening their renowned Food Hall, albeit with social distancing measures in place. Selfridges Food Hall is not where Mr Everyman would do his weekly shop: instead, the shelves are lined with expensive virgin olive oils; truffle oils; sugared almonds; glazes for salmon; on ice you find live lobsters and in piles you find £13 mangos and £4 tomatoes. It is luxury fare reserved for those living very well indeed – or, as the wealthy prefer to say, euphemistically, comfortably.

I call it benign indifference on the part of the middle and upper classes because it is not malicious: no one really wishes harm on others through bending the rules of social distancing just to taste fresh Selfridges brioche or to gaze upon Crouching Aphrodite at the British Museum. I will, however, denounce it as pure selfishness and neglect.

The wealthy already enjoy the luxury of space: larger properties which afford more living space in which to dwell, along with a much higher possibility of owning second holiday homes. Celebrities have been shamed for heading to their second homes, family in tow, when everyone else has to make do with the same four walls for weeks on end. These same people are also more likely to have gardens: before you shame people for going to parks, remember that they possibly inhabit small, gardenless flats with no outdoor areas. Claustrophobia may easily set in in the spring and summer months, and sunlight is good for both the mood and the immune system.

I do not wish to imply that all people with means are acting similarly: indeed, Twitter is flooded with middle class people boasting of their latest indoor triumphs – a sourdough loaf perfected here, a Zoom conference call carried off without a hitch there. But those who seek to defy social distancing regulations, or who encourage others to do so, ought to hang their heads in shame.