With the UK government introducing the most stringent social distancing measures in this country’s history in an attempt to curb the spread of COVID-19, we are embarking on an unprecedented social experiment as not only the UK, but multiple countries around the world, adapt to life in lockdown.

The vast majority of us will have to stay at home, either on our own, or with immediate family, for an indefinite period.

Current UK restrictions mean our isolation will last between three and twelve weeks, depending on whether we are one of the 8.8 million over-seventies, or whether we are pregnant or have an underlying health condition, which accounts for another 21 million people at least.

What’s more, it is highly likely that three weeks will turn into six, and twelve into twenty-four.

So how will we fare as a society, distancing ourselves from our neighbours, our extended family and friends? How will we cope without going to work or the pub, unable to meet up with mates or parents, forbidden to go for a coffee or work out at the gym?

No one really knows what the impact of enforced quarantine with family members over a prolonged period might be. Just imagine Xmas, but three or twelve times as long.

After the festive period, the relationship counselling charity Relate get around a 40% spike in calls. The New Year brings a higher number of divorce petitions than at any other time of year. So add to that financial uncertainty, sickness, restricted availability of basic household items and food and you have a powerful recipe for the worst kind of cabin fever. Families will be under huge emotional strain.

It may sound trite, but we really will have to dig deep to find a touch more tolerance for each other. Amidst the upturned routines, the mounting uncertainties and the enforced ‘togetherness’, we’ll need to take a collective deep breath, slow down a little and try to stay calm.

Even when the wine’s run out and your teenager’s still raging about how slow the WiFi is, the dog’s barfed on the carpet because someone spilled chilli nuts on the sofa, and your toddler’s just wedged a spoon in the toaster, spare a thought for those that have no family to rail against.
For those that are sitting out their twelve or twenty weeks all on their own.

If there is one good thing that may come out of this experience (and I hope there will be many), it is a better understanding of the effects of loneliness and social isolation on our wellbeing, and a greater empathy for those who have to deal with these feelings every day.

For the first time, all of us no longer have a choice when it comes to socialising, beyond our immediate family. Direct contact with others is prohibited, whether it be through work, leisure or sport. Many of us will be self-isolating, or separated from relatives and loved ones who are self-isolating. But at least this isolation is temporary.

Age UK conduct a lot of research into the impacts of social isolation and loneliness, both of which can affect anyone at any point in their lives. They define social isolation as an objective measure of the number of contacts that people have. It is the quantity of connections that counts, the physical connection or separation, and what people are comfortable with can vary significantly.

Loneliness, on the other hand, is a subjective feeling about the gap between a person’s desired levels of social contact and their actual level of social contact. Loneliness is about the perceived quality, not quantity of relationships. It is an emotional state of feeling separated or alone.

Social isolation can be remedied by increasing the number of people a person is in contact with. Loneliness, on the other hand, is much harder to overcome, and takes time.
It is not simply a matter of choice. Or law. And it can have significant effects on our physical and mental health, with strong links to anxiety and depression.

It will come as no surprise that the elderly are amongst the worst affected. Age UK estimates there are 1.2 million chronically lonely people in the UK. More than a third of elderly people reported being overwhelmed by loneliness. But it is not just older people who are lonely.

The findings of the Jo Cox Commission on Loneliness reported that 9 million Britons suffer from loneliness—14% of the population.

Amongst people living with disabilities, half reported feelings of loneliness at least once a day. Fifty-eight per cent of refugees and migrants in London said that loneliness and isolation presented their biggest challenges. Eight out of ten caregivers reported feelings of isolation as a result of looking after a loved one and, incredibly, 52% of parents.

This is before the lockdown.

For many, technology will come to the rescue and keep people in touch with their friends and loved ones, via smartphones and apps. But for others, often the most vulnerable, they have neither the resources, the contacts nor the expertise to use such devices.
Nearly 4 million people over sixty-five have never used the internet. Technology will not help them.

According to Age UK, 3.9 million over-sixty-five’s rely on television as their main form of company and over half of all people aged seventy-five plus live alone.
Amongst these already isolated people, the social habits they may have cultivated around shopping or church visits, community allotments or U3A meetings can now no longer take place.

The closure of libraries, churches and community centres, the cancellation of drop in sessions and membership events, exacerbate their isolation. No more congregations or coffee, no more WI or garden club, no more chats in the line for the till.

Which is why the community help initiatives being set up all over the country are so vital. Neighbours looking out for each other, dropping leaflets offering help, fetching shopping or medication, ringing up to check they’re OK.

In my speculative thriller, The Waiting Rooms, the over-seventies are permanently isolated. Set after an antibiotic crisis, in a world where multiple pandemics raged, emergency legislation prohibits the prescription of new antibiotics to anyone over seventy, in a last ditch attempt to keep resistance at bay. Society sacrifices the elderly for the health of the young.

This legislation results in a permanent state of vulnerability for the elderly which not only threatens their lives but which also, inevitably, leads to social exclusion. As one of the characters, Lily, says: ‘It’s like we’re living in some kind of ageist apartheid.’

I am very pleased to see that in real life, when put to the test, our society has not made such an abhorrent choice, and that we are doing the exact opposite. The whole purpose of our enforced isolation is to protect the vulnerable and the elderly. We are sacrificing our social contact to keep them safe.

But, when we come out the other side, we need to remember what social isolation felt like.
The community initiatives and renewed neighbourliness that COVID-19 inspired do not need to fade. This could be a positive legacy of these extraordinary times: to ensure that what was a temporary lockdown for us does not remain a permanent lockdown for the lonely.