Iselin Jones: Reporting Covid on top of living it has been extraordinary
Living through Covid will have been a defining time in all our lives, but reporting Covid on top of living it has been extraordinary.
Never have I felt so strongly the public service significance of our profession - of being that crucial link between the public and the decision makers, being entrusted to ask the questions you the public wanted answered, and holding our politicians to account as they curtailed our civil liberties to save lives and protect our health services.
Being ‘allowed’ to go to work during the first lockdown, with a letter in my bag that said I was ‘essential’, also drove home to me the importance of the job we were doing. I felt privileged to be allowed to do the job I did, but also to have a job.
I can’t recall a more divisive time in my 13 years in Jersey either. At times it has been difficult to filter through the noise of those who have shouted loudest to get a balanced view of vox populi, of how ‘the people’ have really felt about the decisions that were being taken, or not.
Social media became a forum for people’s individual trauma, at times undoubtedly fuelling the trauma for others - ours included.
For people who were alone it became a companion, for those who had a view - any view - it became an outlet where they felt heard but also free of social restrictions and expectations. It became a free for all battle ground.
What I learned in that respect is that the loudest people are not necessarily the average, or the real pulse of the island. That’s not to say it didn’t count, or have a place, but it meant that staying factual, balanced and impartial in my own reporting was more important than ever, and it’s a responsibility I’ve taken extremely seriously.
What I’ve also taken seriously is the fact that behind every single one of the decisions that have been made is a human being who, like the rest of us, has never lived through anything like this before.
A case in point was the day of the Vote of No Confidence in the Chief Minister, back in November. As we waited for him to come out late that evening to face the media, I’d noticed a lone woman in the Royal Square. I didn’t know who she was but I had a feeling she was there for a reason. And she was - she was the Chief Minister’s wife. She was there to embrace him at the end of the day, as he finished perhaps one of the toughest days of his political life - entire life even.
It was a private moment that was not recorded, not broadcast, not photographed because it shouldn’t be. But it was something I saw, that only handful of people who were there at the time happened to see.
All that is not in any way to say decisions shouldn’t be justified, questioned and challenged but for me personally it was an important reminder of the human face of politics and decision-making during what has been, quite simply, an extraordinary time.
No one’s life has been untouched by this.
Which brings me back to the beginning, because all the while we’ve all lived this pandemic in our own homes too. I’ve lived it with my own little family, but away from the rest of my family. That’s been tough on an individual level of course, but professionally the last year has been nothing short of a privilege.
To everyone who’s allowed us into their grief, thank you.
To everyone who’s shared their worries and concerns, thank you.
To everyone who’s spoken out when things have not been right so that we could get answers, thank you.
To all of those who’ve shared fears for their businesses and livelihoods, thank you.
To all those who’ve been at their most vulnerable but still decided to speak to us, because they believed it was the right thing or only thing to do even, thank you.
To all of you who have entrusted your opinions and views to be shared by us, thank you.
Because without you all, what we do would be nothing.
Thank you.