The human body is built to withstand temperatures that exceed the record-breaking 40.2 degrees that hit the outskirts of London on Tuesday. But it is very clear the nation’s infrastructure — in fact, the infrastructure of all northern Europe — is not. Luton Airport was forced to divert flights after the surface of its runway melted. Trains that were not cancelled were disrupted. Hammersmith bridge was wrapped in protective foil for fear that it might buckle. Children were sent home from school, and people urged to stay indoors.
Watching the rolling coverage of the heatwave, plaguing much of Europe, is surreal. Sky News illustrated its segments with a constant live camera shot of the sun — as though we might need reminding of the source of the discomfort. Worst of all were images of houses engulfed in flames, captured by wildfires in places where wildfires once had rarely thought to touch. England’s green and pleasant land has been swapped for something dry, parched and hostile.
It makes for an odd atmosphere. Some lazily sip pints in a hazy smog in central London, attempting to enjoy the weather. Heat was always something to look forward to, after all. Most buy fans and seek refuge in their homes. The air is not warm but hot and thick. And the quietly acknowledged fact between everyone is that we are probably going to have to get used to this, no matter how unnatural it feels now.
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[ Southern Europe battles wildfires as heatwave spreads northOpens in new window ]
We have long known that extreme temperatures do strange and inexplicable things to our behaviour. In the summer of 1988, when much of the United States faced the highest temperatures for a century, police recorded significantly higher levels of violent crime. In particularly hot years, countries in the tropics are more likely to have civil wars. In Britain’s 2018 heatwave police reported that calls were up 40 per cent in some areas, with one claiming that the weather led people to act “very strangely”. We even beep our car horns more frequently when the mercury rises.
The stifling air provides a perfect partner for the looming energy crisis, strikes, inflation and ongoing war in eastern Europe
These things certainly seem related, even if we do not know exactly how yet. And the poets do not disagree. In Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, the beating Veronese sun gets “mad blood stirring”, culminating in a murderous brawl. The Great Gatsby must contain the most famous montage of insufferable heat in modern literature — Daisy Buchanan suggests breaking down the walls with an axe. In Albert Camus’s The Stranger, heat provides the backdrop for much of the tragedy. London could be an alternative set of a Tennessee Williams play.
So, fans of pathetic fallacy can rejoice. Just as soaring temperatures provide perfect material for novels and plays, they are equally as effective at punctuating high octane political drama. It was warm when Boris Johnson’s MPs turned against him, and marginally warmer still when he resigned. By the time former chancellor Sajid Javid launched his ill-fated leadership bid last week, he did so in a hot and overcrowded room.
Of course, the focus lingered not on the policy nor on the character of the candidate but on the sweaty hopelessness of the whole affair. As the days went on and the stakes became higher so too did the temperature creep up. And now, down to the final two, the kind of heat-induced languor and listlessness usually reserved for the hottest days on the Mediterranean have settled in.
This summer of discontent far exceeds the boundaries of Westminster. The stifling air provides a perfect partner for the looming energy crisis, strikes, inflation and ongoing war in eastern Europe. And though, of course, the rate of inflation is not tied to figures on thermometers, the general sense of discomfort and unease both provoke are feeding each other.
In lieu of being able to turn off the sun, someone must work out how to prevent runways from melting and trains lines from collapsing
It is easy to get lost in the existential angst. But there is always a hopeful case to be made. Now we can feel the direct impact of the climate crisis as the sun beats down on the back of our necks perhaps we can instil a greater sense of urgency in our response. The war in Ukraine may have complicated things when it comes to how we fuel European economies, but the realisation that we need to mitigate the worst impacts of global warming cannot have made itself more aggressively apparent. The Irish Government was warned on Wednesday that it must take immediate steps to prepare for climate disruption.
Before getting lost in the trees on how to tackle the climate crisis in the long term, Britain and Ireland need to have serious conversations with themselves about how to deal with the extreme weather events right now. Policy discussions on infrastructure might be boring. But in lieu of being able to turn off the sun, someone must work out how to prevent runways from melting and trains lines from collapsing.
There is an unavoidable sense that something serious has shifted. The heat will dissipate, and if this were a play the fever might break with it too. We shouldn’t count on it.