One of the things that struck me almost as soon as the coronavirus pandemic hit the media was the use of military language to describe it. As a Clinical Psychologist working in a large mixed acute and community NHS trust in the North of England I also noticed this language readily used in relation to my own organisation in preparing for the impact of Covid-19. In the last month in the UK, as social distancing and staying at home have become the new social norms, this language and metaphor has now appeared across all spheres; not just in the media and at work, but in conversations with family and friends, across all social media platforms and indeed, in HRH Queen Elizabeth II’s recent live address to the nation[1]. In this, parallels were drawn between social distancing now and the “painful sense of separation from loved ones” that occurred as a result of the child evacuation programme during World War II (WWII). This speech was concluded with “We will meet again” – a powerful reference to the 1939 song “We’ll Meet Again”[2], made famous by British singer Vera Lynn during the years of WWII; a song which is arguably the backdrop to the harrowing necessity for soldiers to go off to fight, leaving loved ones behind, not knowing if they will ever be seen again.

This comparison, between the coronavirus pandemic and the mobilisation of nations during WWII, is not just being made in the UK but pervades across countries and continents. For example, the Irish Prime Minister declared “Never will so many ask so much of so few” (an irrefutable nod to Sir Winston Churchill) in his acknowledgement of the selflessness of healthcare professionals working with patients with Covid-19[3]. Kimble (2020)[4] describes how the Governor of New York declared that “ventilators are to this war what missiles were to World War II”. The President of France, Emmanuel Macron used the word ‘war’ multiple times during a televised press conference about measures the country is taking to ‘fight’ the coronavirus pandemic.[5] So why has the war metaphor become so prevalent in the discourse surrounding the coronavirus pandemic? More importantly, what are the psychosocial consequences of using and/or being exposed to the war metaphor?

We all hold a general understanding of a war metaphor; it usually involves a battle between two groups, often good (society) Vs. evil (coronavirus); each side may attack (infect) or defend (medicate and ventilate); the ‘foot-soldiers’ are ‘frontline’ NHS staff. The Generals, Air Chief Marshalls and Admirals are our authoritative bodies such as NHS England, Health Protection Scotland, or Public Health Wales who ‘direct the troops’ (healthcare staff) in to battle. Associated with all of this there is fear, a sense of foreboding, uncertainty, anxiety and knowledge that lives will be lost in terrible ways.

Rallying calls were used during WWII as a way to galvanise the ‘home front’ and get citizens to do the things necessary to support the war effort. In a similar vein, society is now being called upon to socially distance, isolate and radically alter consumer and other behaviours. At face value the use of military language and the WWII metaphor may seem both relevant and useful; generating a sense of national pride in the heroism of NHS staff, and at the same time providing a simple way of structuring how people reason and communicate about the pandemic. In this way, the war metaphor may be helpful, as it allows us to think and communicate about an abstract situation (an invisible virus) in more simple and concrete terms. Flusberg et al. (2018) describe how war metaphors in public discourse “reliably express an urgent, negatively valenced emotional tone that captures attention and motivates action”[6]. Our attention is being drawn by language, narrative and metaphor to ‘stand together’, and remain ‘united and resolute’, with the penultimate goal of ‘defeating the enemy’.

However, are we clear that the use of such ‘war talk’ in relation to the coronavirus pandemic is ultimately helpful? Are there harms that can result for society, patients, families and NHS staff? Has the harnessing of the war metaphor meant that as a nation we have limited our outlook in our response to the pandemic, hunkering down and failing to see that this is a global crisis that requires mutual co-operation across borders?  Does it get in the way of seeing that this is a pandemic, not an epidemic, and as such impacts the population of the whole planet, especially displaced refugees and people in South Asia and Africa?

Christine Schwobel-Patel (2020)[7] describes how the use of ‘war-talk’ allows nation states to exploit ethno-nationalism, whereby a patriarchal society comes together and uses enhanced powers of state to deprive certain minorities of their rights.  Arguably, such ethno-nationalism is already becoming normalised in media headlines shaming people who rushed to buy food and provisions at the start of the coronavirus outbreak (the NHS medical director Stephen Powis stated that people should be “ashamed” of themselves for stockpiling food[8]). Similarly, there is increasing support for the police to be tough on anyone who violates the new social norms. Such people are criticised, shamed and even demonised as deliberately putting others’ lives at risk. As Clinical Psychologists we can choose to also criticise and shame or to understand peoples’ behaviour and formulate within a wider context. For example, many people who over-shopped at the outbreak of the pandemic were likely experiencing anxiety and panic triggered by the frightening language, narrative and metaphor of ‘war against coronavirus’.

How do families feel about loved ones ‘losing the battle’ against Covid-19, or even, lacking enough strength or courage to ‘fight’ and ‘win’? Similar concerns have been applied to the use of the war metaphor in relation to chronic conditions; cancer ‘battles’ are won or lost, people are encouraged in the ‘fight’ against obesity. There are multiple examples of ‘war-talk’ within the arena of chronic conditions, but very little evidence to show that a ‘fighting spirit’ (where people see their condition as a challenge and adopt a positive attitude) impacts mortality outcomes. It is acknowledged that fighting spirit can be associated with improvements in patients’ quality of life, but to uphold a narrative of ‘fight hard enough and you can win’ can put patients under enormous pressure: are they fighting hard enough? Are they being positive enough? Is their attitude the ‘right’ attitude? How can they ‘fight’ when they are intubated and on ventilation in an intensive care unit? The war metaphor in relation to Covid-19, when considered in this way, seems unhelpful at best and runs the risk of adding to psychological distress and burden on patients, their families and NHS staff who care for them.

And how might the new normal of the ‘war against coronavirus’ impact NHS staff? Do healthcare professionals who choose not to go to work (for multiple reasons, most of which we will not know about) run the risk of being and feeling criticised, shamed and even demonised as cowardly? How can someone who is employed by the NHS take a stand against the current expectation that they act ‘heroically’? Does the media reporting and current rhetoric of NHS services being ‘frontline heroes’ subtly manipulate people into obedience? And possibly most important of all, how will all this impact our colleagues emotional and mental well-being now and in the future?

Furthermore, the war metaphor directs criticism towards the ‘enemy virus’, when much of the current pressure on the NHS is due to more than a decade of under-funding[9]. For example, NHS staff on the ‘frontline’ are ‘going into battle’ against a dangerous and potentially deadly ‘enemy’, with only the flimsiest of ‘armour’ and are working in ‘battle zones’ and ‘field hospitals’, and are to be admired and literally applauded for being so ‘heroic’. Of course, I am not suggesting that NHS colleagues are being anything other than incredibly altruistic in working in such conditions; their dedication and commitment to patient care is humbling and inspiring. However, aligning ourselves to the war and ‘hero’ metaphor may lead to significant questions not being asked about NHS resourcing, such as the lack of supply of Personal Protective Equipment (PPE).

As Clinical Psychologists, should we be resisting the ‘call to arms’ and challenging the war metaphor when we know it precipitates, fear, anxiety and even panic? In harnessing the ‘home front’ to get behind the coronavirus ‘war effort’, are we causing damage to the collective well-being of society, and our NHS colleagues, as well as patients and their families? This concern is amplified if we think particularly about the vulnerable people and communities Clinical Psychologists serve; the impact on those already struggling with fear of germs or infection; the impact on those who cannot stay in their home as they do not have one; the impact on those already living with challenging multiple long-term health conditions. So we have a dilemma with regards to the use of the war metaphor for the coronavirus pandemic. On the one hand it is helpful as the fear evoked can motivate society to stay alert to the dangers and make significant behavioural changes. However, on the other hand we are evoking fear, panic, reinforcing the blaming and shaming of others, justifying increased powers of the state and failing to see the need for global solidarity in order to ‘win the war’.

In summary, the war metaphor in relation to the coronavirus pandemic has had some utility, but we now need to shift how we speak and communicate about coronavirus, moving from ‘war talk’ to framing the pandemic in terms of a global public health emergency. It seems useful for us to reflect upon how we can avoid falling into the trap of also blaming and shaming those who do not abide by new ethno-nationalist rules. We can acknowledge and work to support those who are more vulnerable and more in need. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, we can place faith in the power of mutual support, understanding and community and the shared values we hold as Clinical Psychologists.

Acknowledgements to Dr John Launer & Dr Arabella Kurtz for editorial input

[1] British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) Live News HRH Queen Elizabeth II Address to the Nation, 5th April, 2020.

[2] Music and lyrics by English songwriters Ross Parker and Hughie Charles.

[3] Quentin Fottrell. MarketWatch. Published: March 18, 2020. Accessed online: https://www.marketwatch.com/story/irelands-prime-minister-delivers-grim-st-patricks-day-message-coronavirus-cases-to-jump-from-223-to-15000-by-end-of-march-2020-03-17

[4] Kimble, J. J. (2020). The real lesson of World War II for mobilizing against covid-19. The Washington Post, March 25, 2020. Accessed online: https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2020/03/25/real-lesson-world-war-ii-mobilizing-against-covid-19/

[5] Politico. 16^th March, 2020. Accessed online: https://www.politico.eu/article/emmanuel-macron-on-coronavirus-were-at-war/

[6] Stephen J. Flusberg, Teenie Matlock & Paul H. Thibodeau (2018) War metaphors in public discourse, Metaphor and Symbol, 33:1, 1-18. Accessed online: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10926488.2018.1407992?src=recsys&

[7] Schwobel-Patel, C. (2020). We don’t need a ‘war’ against coronavirus. We need solidarity. Aljazeera.com. Accessed online: https://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/don-war-coronavirus-solidarity-200402080332560.html

[8] Honeycombe-Foster, M. (2020) March 21st, 2020. Politics Home. Accessed online: https://www.politicshome.com/news/article/coronavirus-nhs-chief-says-shoppers-should-be-ashamed-to-stockpile-after-frontline-staff-go-without

[9] BMA, 2020. Accessed online: https://archive.bma.org.uk/collective-voice/influence/key-negotiations/nhs-funding