ritain’s class system determines who is wealthy, who has power, and even who lives. Before Covid-19 arrived, if you were a man in one of England’s poorest communities, you could expect to live nine years fewer than someone in one of its most affluent areas. Those living in the poorest parts of Britain have a greater chance of suffering from heart and lung disease, and their children are more than twice as likely to be obese as those in the richest parts. People condemned to poor-quality housing are more likely to have illnesses such as asthma, and with mental health disproportionately damaged by the stresses of poverty, the poorest men are up to 10 times more at risk of suicide than the richest. From the very start, the pandemic was always going to be shaped by the inequalities that define contemporary Britain. This is a virus that disproportionately inflicts the worst illness – and death – on those with underlying health conditions such as high blood pressure, diabetes and obesity, which disproportionately affect the poor. While middle-class professionals have the luxury of working in Covid-compliant homes, millions of working-class Britons cannot perform their tasks remotely. Many have no option but to cram into public transport en route to workplaces which often do not enforce safe social distancing to protect them. Recent statistics from the Office for National Statistics show that care-home workers and nurses are among those most likely to die from coronavirus, alongside machine operatives, home carers, chefs, restaurant managers, nurses and bus drivers. These figures do not surprise, but they should still shock. Many of the key workers who people applauded from porches, windows and balconies during the first lockdown were cheered to their deaths. Throughout the crisis, the defining strategy of Britain’s authorities has been to throw themselves at stable doors months after the horse has bolted. This week, test and trace supremo Dido Harding declared that workers are too scared to come forward to be tested because of a lack of financial support from the government. While salaried professionals generally have no fears about feeding children or paying bills if they self-isolate, the same does not apply to the millions of workers whose families are in poverty even though they’re working. At just £95.85 per week, our statutory sick pay is among the lowest in Europe: how many deaths would have been prevented if more workers felt financially secure when staying away from their workplaces? While hiking statutory sick pay would be a belated vital measure, if we are to – to borrow the cliche of the moment – “build back better”, we need far more ambitious reforms. Covid-19 collided with Britain’s class system and made existing inequalities more fatal. When we are finally through this nightmare, poverty will continue to rob the health and lives of working-class Britons. The class system is itself a public health crisis: the most unequal countries are those with the worst health outcomes. Just as the second world war paved the way for the construction of the welfare state, the pandemic must provide the same impetus for confronting social injustices. There is no vaccine for poverty. But a reconstructed welfare state, an emergency national housing programme, a genuine living wage and a revamped public health strategy could provide cures. It is too late to prevent the deaths of over a hundred thousand disproportionately poor citizens: but the legacy of Covid Britain could save many more lives, if only the political willpower was there.