In a move that shocks precisely no one with a functioning cerebral cortex, the World Health Organisation has declared the latest Ebola outbreak in the Democratic Republic of Congo ‘deeply alarming.’ The virus, which seems to have a fondness for dramatic entrances, has popped up in the city of Mbandaka, a bustling metropolis where handshakes are currency and hygiene is a suggestion. British medics, ever the eager Boy Scouts, are now on standby, ready to don their hazmat suits and heroic expressions at a moment’s notice.
The government’s official stance, as articulated by a slightly sweaty junior health minister, can be summarised as: ‘We’re monitoring the situation very closely, and our thoughts and prayers are with the people of the DRC.’ Meanwhile, the British public is being advised to remain calm and carry on, though the only actual risk in the UK right now is catching a glimpse of Boris Johnson’s latest attempt to look statesmanlike. The irony is thick enough to spread on toast: a government that has slashed foreign aid and closed its eyes to the global health crisis now stands ready to deploy medics like a superhero team with funding worries.
One can practically hear the gears grinding in Whitehall: ‘How can we spin this as a triumph of British pluck?’ The answer, as always, lies in a well-timed press release and a stiff upper lip. But let’s be real for a symptomless second: the only thing ‘deeply alarming’ is the chasm between the gravity of the situation and the cupboard of political will.
Still, the medics are on standby, their thermometers prepped, their irony detectors at full sensitivity. We salute them, even as we roll our eyes at the circus that sends them forth. Ebola, like a bad penny, keeps turning up.
And our leaders, like malfunctioning jukeboxes, keep playing the same old song: ‘Thoughts and prayers, lather, rinse, repeat.
