A doctor wrote about the sobering reality of caring for critically-ill Covid patients for news website Unherd. What she said about masks leapt out at me: ‘I then put on my PPE (FFP3 mask, hairnet, long-sleeved gown, gloves, visor) and enter the bay to examine the patients. I feel lucky to have this level of protection – my colleagues outside of the HDU only have surgical masks, which offer little protection against an airborne virus.’28 And there is the acknowledgement – from a doctor – that a surgical mask (also known as a ‘spit-stopper’) does little to protect against viruses.
I also quizzed Shotton about masks. Even though he is a behavioural psychologist and understands how the subliminal pressure operates, he admitted that ‘if I walked into a shop wearing a mask and no one else was, I’d be embarrassed. If I wasn’t wearing a mask and everyone else was, I’d feel embarrassed.’ It’s difficult to be deviant.
People who are obeying the rules often don’t like to see others break them. There have been harrowing accounts of people with PTSD or disabilities feeling unable to go about their lives in public unmasked because of aggressive questioning, or the fear that it will happen, despite their legal exemption. Halpern referred to the desirability of this citizen policing when he commented that, ‘Most of the heavy-lifting is done by the public, frowning at people who aren’t wearing masks. The British are particularly good at doing this.’ The nudgers want us to monitor each other. In an astonishing public admission, Metropolitan Police commissioner Dame Cressida Dick said she hoped that people would be shamed into complying by other members of the public.29 She hoped we would shame each other, even though no one can know by looking at another, what their reason is for not wearing a mask.
In addition to face masks there are other visible symbols in public which do their part to help prevent transmission, but also prime our behaviour in a broader way. Shotton brought up the example of the dots in the supermarket. He told me he likes the dots, ‘because they remove the social ambiguity. You follow prearranged signs.’ I told him I dislike the dots, and I don’t enjoy abundant signage telling me what to do. It feels infantilising and bossy. ‘Behavioural science doesn’t measure whether we like the dots or not, just whether we follow them,’ he said. I had another one of my breakthroughs: behavioural science isn’t about how we feel, it’s not about making us happy, it’s not about our attitude, it’s about behaviour. The clue was in the name all along.
LIES, DAMNED LIES AND STATISTICS
Numbers, data, statistics and graphs can all, if done well, appeal to ‘salience’. They catch our attention if relevant to our personal circumstances and concerns. Simplicity is important because our attention is much more likely to be drawn to things that we can understand.
An example of doing this well was when NHS Chief Executive, Simon Stevens, revealed that the UK’s health service had prepared the equivalent of 50 hospitals to be ready for people suffering severely from the epidemic.30 It conveyed scale in a relatable (and reassuring) way.
But Simon Stevens doesn’t always use this relatable and salient way of helping us visualise the scale of infection. Nosocomial Covid infections (hospital-acquired infections) have been a problem for the NHS and care homes during the epidemic. Hospitals are built like little cities, a far cry from the fever hospitals of yore, and an infectious respiratory disease can spread easily. The NHS has not been transparent about the scale of hospital-acquired infections. I had access to privileged information in mid-January 2021 and wrote for the Daily Mail31 that since the start of the the second wave alone, 25,000 patients had caught Covid while in hospital. That is a staggering number. It’s the equivalent of 50 hospitals worth of people.
Deaths, hospitalisations and cases were the main metrics discussed in press briefings and in the media. These were not placed in context with recoveries and discharges. Without providing that balance, the overall impression would be that you catch Covid and die, creating more fear.
There is so much to say about the use of numbers, percentages and steep-lined graphs that there is a whole chapter devoted to them: Chapter 10, ‘The metrics of fear’.
THE NEW VARIANT, U-TURNS AND THE CHRISTMAS THAT NEVER WAS
Professor Hugh Pennington of the University of Aberdeen accused the Government of waging a ‘propaganda campaign’ to get the public scared enough to follow lockdown measures. He said: ‘It is all very frustrating. In my heart of hearts I believe there is a propaganda campaign to get the public very scared.’32
In mid-December 2020 Matt Hancock warned that the new variant was 70% more infectious and behind a surge in cases in London and the south-east. Various scientists urged calm, reiterated that viruses do mutate, and that there was no evidence yet that this particular variant was more transmissible or deadly. On 16 December the government performed a U-turn and changed the rules for Christmas, reducing the number of households that could meet from three to two.
Pennington confessed he thought the new variant had become ‘a very handy excuse for cancelling Christmas as rates were rising – in fact it is extremely hard to prove transmissibility without infecting people with the virus, which would be unethical.’
If the Kentish Covid variant was indeed used to justify changing the rules for Christmas, this is an example of ‘placebic information’, another behavioural psychology tool. New strains provide a psychological justification for actions the government may wish to take anyway. Worryingly, the virus will always mutate and produce new variants, which can justify action before the new variants are fully understood. A government could keep new variant bait and switch policies going for as long as there are viruses. That’s forever, by the way.
U-turns were typical during the epidemic. This can be very reasonably explained and justified by the twists and turns of following the science during a new epidemic. But uncertainty is also a form of bamboozlement and is akin to the tactics used in psychological warfare. On 5 November 2020, Boris Johnson said, ‘These rules will expire on 2 December,’ about the second lockdown. But on 16 November, Matt Hancock said, ‘It’s too early to say.’ This flip-flopping and good cop, bad cop routine was a feature of the government messaging.
I talked to the UK’s leading disaster and recovery specialist, Lucy Easthope. She’s a senior lecturer on disaster recovery and mass fatalities and has advised the government on Covid-19, as well as Grenfell, the Salisbury Novichok poisoning and the Manchester bombing. She told me ‘this is some of the worst psychological torture I have seen. Christmas is on, it’s off, it’s on. It’s not unusual in disaster recovery to go back and forth. In disaster recovery we say the kindest thing you can do is make one decision early. The government are making one of the big classic disaster recovery mistakes.’
It’s not possible to know whether there was a lack of coordination between ministers, a lack of planning, or a deliberate plan to confuse. Regardless, it had the effect of creating a level of uncertainty which was bad for business and bad for mental health. We house some of the most advanced behavioural science in the world in our government – surely the comparison to psychological torture would not be missed? The lack of certainty about lockdown finish lines could arguably be said to create a more stressed and therefore compliant population. It is probably reasonable to assume the UK government’s Covid U-turns were due at different times to both a lack of planning and psychological manipulation.
On 11 February 2020, Matt Hancock said that ‘the clinical advice about the risk to the public has not changed and remains moderate’.33 Of course, we all know about the U-turn that followed on 23 March. Did he and the government respond to the ‘science’, but also to public opinion, polling and media pressure?
SOME OF THE WORST DOOM-MONGERING ADS
We have endured a year of fear thanks to the government’s Covid advertising campaign. Extreme, visceral and deliberately frightening TV, radio, poster and print advertising were designed to elevate your sense of threat and risk and encourage obedience to the rules.
Using fear in adver
tising is controversial because it can be distressing and harmful. The Advertising Standards Authority states in its Advertising Codes that advertising must minimise the risk of causing harm or serious or widespread offence. There are specific guidelines regarding fear:
‘4.2. Marketing communications must not cause fear or distress without justifiable reason; if it can be justified, the fear or distress should not be excessive. Marketers must not use a shocking claim or image merely to attract attention.’34
Some of the government’s advertising is flagrantly in breach of the ASA code, as you will see in some of the worst doom-mongering ads I noted throughout the year.
Sociologist Dr Ashley Frawley conducted a brief semiotic analysis of the government’s advertising and described its trajectory to me: ‘The first hard-hitting campaign showed yellow and red caution tape and a healthcare worker in a mask which looks like a gas mask. This is trying to tell you that this is very serious indeed. There is a horror movie dystopian quality to it. In another campaign they used a raspy, stern male voice, telling you, “people will die!” By the summer the advertising is using a woman’s voice, the tone is upbeat, there’s whistling, you’re being told to enjoy summer. Then in September, October, we were back to a more stern actor, signalling the tension and the risk are building again. It’s like an abusive relationship – uh-oh something is about to happen. In January, the stern, raspy voice man is back.’
As Frawley said, a dominant tactic of the campaign was not just to say that you are at risk, but more importantly, you are a risk. It is dark messaging indeed to tell us we are responsible for killing other people, including our loved ones.
‘George left the pub… and went home to kill his dad.
Sasha had a great night out at her friend’s house… and popped in to kill her nan on the way home.
Once Ade’s finished keeping fit… he’ll go home to kill his mum over dinner.
Stop.
Horrified? Of course.
But would you feel different if their weapon of choice was Covid-19?
Coronavirus is killing people every day.
Not adhering to public health guidelines is a principal cause of the spread of Coronavirus.
Covid kills. And you don’t have to have symptoms to spread it.
Protect the lives of friends, family, neighbours, and the community.
Don’t bring Covid home this Christmas.’
This is the wording from a sensationalised video35 produced for social media and shared by a councillor at Haringey Council.
‘Someone jogging, walking their dog or working out in the park is highly likely to have Covid-19. This is a national health emergency. Around one in three people have no symptoms and are spreading it without knowing. So exercise locally… If you bend the rules, people will die…’
This government radio advertisement was withdrawn after complaints to the Advertising Standards Authority as the claims were misleading and could not be substantiated.36 However, no apology or correction was ever issued. Many millions of people might still think these false claims are true and be unnecessarily frightened or concerned.
Santa lies unconscious in hospital, surrounded by NHS staff. He is saved, thereby Christmas itself is saved, and he rewards a nurse with a surprise Christmas present.
The Santa ad created for NHS Charities was incredibly divisive. Some people found it moving, while others felt it was insensitive and would disturb children. Surely it’s misleading, as Santa is magical and therefore can’t get ill or die? Hmm. Anyway, it was withdrawn to avoid further controversy.
‘Don’t let a coffee cost lives’
Hyperbole on a double-shot of caffeine. Meeting a friend for a walk with a takeaway coffee has never been illegal and has been some people’s lifeline during long lockdowns. This advertisement could have frightened and deterred people from a helpful act of socialisation. The exaggeration might not help engender long-term trust in the government.
‘Look him in the eyes
And tell him you always keep a safe distance’
‘Look her in the eyes
And tell her you never bend the rules’
‘Look him in the eyes
And tell him the risk isn’t real’
A poster, print and broadcast campaign shows people wearing oxygen masks looking straight into camera. The tight close-up and the eye contact are designed to take you straight into their predicament. The grainy processing is evocative of horror, like an upscale Blair Witch Project. This campaign didn’t just leverage fear, but also guilt and shame, pitting the sick against the ‘perpetrator’. ‘Othering’ the offensive disease-spreaders could create ill-will and conflict. And maybe it was no one’s fault. Maybe he got Covid while in hospital for a hernia operation. Maybe she caught Covid while working in a care home.
Grassroots campaigners against lockdown, Recovery, commissioned an independent poll from market research company Yonder and found that 15% of respondents reported depression, anxiety, or fear as a direct result of government pandemic advertising.37 A further 7% reported that the advertising has made an existing mental health condition worse: that’s almost 12 million people around the country whose mental health has been damaged by an unprecedented government advertising campaign designed to create fear. And 3% said that the advertising has brought on an entirely new mental health condition requiring treatment.
ANONYMOUS
I have several disabilities, physical and psychological. I am unable to wear a face mask because I have PTSD from sexual trauma as a young teen. I’m sorry for TMI but it’s relevant. I was raped and penetrated in my mouth too. Due to this, nothing can cover my mouth, it’s an instant panic attack.
I had to attend the minor injuries unit at hospital yesterday. When I approached the desk to book in, I was instantly ordered to put on a mask. One was offered to me, and I replied I was unable to do so due to a mental health condition. The receptionist fetched a nurse who asked why I was refusing to wear one and said that if I did not, then I would be removed from the unit. This area is very open and very public, with other patients being seen at the side of me. I asked for a private area, and this was refused. I was also wearing a sunflower lanyard.
I was becoming extremely anxious at this point and explained that I have PTSD. They wanted details. I was essentially railroaded into detailing what happened as a teen. I was told to wait and then taken into a room with a doctor and another nurse. I again had to explain in detail my PTSD. I was then offered a visor type mask which I found very claustrophobic and in all honesty unbearable, but was left in no doubt non-compliance would lead to my being asked to leave.
I was then triaged, assessed and treated. In total I explained everything three times. I had an hour-long major panic attack in the car afterwards. I had two more overnight. Since then I have been very on edge and I can’t sleep.
8. CONTROLLED SPONTANEITY AND PROPAGANDA
‘Controlled religious and political ceremonies are welcomed, however, by those in authority, since they provide ‘opportunities for planting suggestions in minds which have momentarily ceased to be capable of reason or free will.’
From Battle for the Mind, William Sargant
If you liked me thus far, this might be the point at which you change your mind, because this is when I admit I didn’t like Clap for Carers. The nationwide sensation left me cold. It’s not that I’m naturally curmudgeonly, but something about the weekly ritual felt performative, forced and, well, a bit Stalinist. I appreciated the NHS but it didn’t feel authentic for me to demonstrate that in the streets on Thursday evenings. I skulked indoors for the first one, but on the second Thursday night I found myself outside, watering my hanging basket, as the entire street stepped outside at 8pm and started clapping, cheering and banging pots and pans. It felt impossible to do anything except slap my watering can with my free hand and sheepishly beam at the neighbours. Yes, I was in thrall to ‘norms’ and maybe a bit of ‘ego’.
If I’m honest, it
actually felt quite nice to be joining with my neighbours in a collective act of appreciation. I didn’t do it again because, for me, it was reminiscent of the innocent animals performing ‘Beasts of Britain’ in Animal Farm by George Orwell, or perhaps the conch in Lord of the Flies by William Golding – it felt like a ritual designed to give people a sense of purpose and unity. The underlying feeling of obligation created by the intense media coverage of the clap felt pressured and concerned me.
Extending the Animal Farm metaphor, it seemed to me that the NHS was playing the part of Boxer, the strong farm horse, faithful and fêted. But after being worked to the bone, would the NHS also be sent to the knacker’s yard, like poor Boxer? It was blindingly obvious that lockdown would devastate the economy, and I wondered about the NHS’s future in a poorer nation. There is no health without wealth. My skin prickled with warning.
Clap for Carers pulled people together so quickly and definitively, yet it made me uncomfortable. It spectacularly embodied the classic propaganda attributes of ‘euphoria’ and ‘flag-waving’. My creative nature leads me to confront the points of tension. I’ve always been fascinated by our inner workings, the taboo, the stuff we push to the back of the darkest closet. So, as I said in Chapter 6, ‘The SPI-B advisors’, I decided to approach Annemarie Plas, the founder of the UK’s Clap for Carers, for an interview and to take her portrait. I wanted to understand the person behind this positive campaign, how she made it happen and, of course, make an interesting article out of it.
On social media I had come across rumours that the campaign was secretly powered by the government. I asked Plas about this and she denied the rumours were true. I liked her a lot and believe she had nothing but good intentions when she started Clap for Carers. Her charming flat was the lair of a boho chic metropolitan yoga-practising upwardly-mobile professional, not a sleeper agent. Her back story was very interesting. With no humility, I have to tell you I got a great story out of her, alongside some beautiful portraits. Yet I felt unable to pitch the piece, because she let slip she had a friend who worked at Number 10. Considering the runaway success of Clap for Carers, this seemed too much of a coincidence. My initial story idea was derailed.
A State of Fear: How the UK government weaponised fear during the Covid-19 pandemic Page 13