Going Viral  ?  Cartographies of panic and precaution in the age of  precarity

Everybody knows that pestilences have a way of recurring in the world; yet somehow we find it hard to believe in ones that crash down on our heads  from a blue sky. There have been as many plagues as wars in history yet always plagues and wars take people equally by surprise. Albert Camus  The Plague (1947)

Enviral  :   to treat someone or something as a virus, or a carrier of a virus  e.g.  I found myself enviralled every time I coughed in public

Enviralment  :the state or condition of being enviralled.  e.g.   The enviralment of  our town  was finally achieved with the establishment of police road blocks  orig : 2020 Sse also  Corona Virus   The Dystopian Dictionary

 

Mapping the crisis: Cartesian Cartography and  the ‘Other Scene’

One of the most important moments in the development of Western cartography  occurred when an obscure  doctor, John Snow,  produced his  so called ghost map  of the Cholera outbreak in London’s  Soho in 1854 (Illustration 1). By pinpointing  the location of  cases, and  showing  where they clustered, the doctor was able to identify  the water pumps that were  responsible for the outbreak  and consign  the  air borne  ‘miasma’ model of transmission to the dustbin of medical history.   Ever since, map making has played a significant role in  epidemiology , with ever more sophisticated cartographical techniques  being used to capture and represent  the big data of disease.

Because   the cholera bacterium is transmitted  through infected water ( and food), and not directly  from person to person, it is  relatively easy to trace its sources  and  take appropriate remedial action. Not so, of course, with other infectious diseases   from  colds, flu, measles and   mumps   to Smallpox, Ebola,  and now, of course,  Covid -19. It is the fact that it is almost impossible to track the movements of its  human carriers,  who may initially  be symptom free,  that generates  such pervasive  contagion  anxiety around this new virus. If it may not  always be  possible to map the’ known unknown’ (i.e. the full extent and rate of transmission, the process,treatment  and outcome of the disease itself and potential vaccines ) , how much more difficult  to represent what the psychoanalyst,  Christopher Bollas has  called the ’unthought known’, the deeper more unconscious responses to the pandemic, sometimes repressed, sometimes emerging in coded forms. We are dealing here with what Freud called the ‘other scene’  of everyday life, where rational calculations of self interest and limited altruism  give way to structures of feeling  and belief  dominated by often disavowed   fears and fantasies of ‘the other’ ( other class, other gender, other ethnicity).  This is  fertile ground  for the popular imagination of disease.  These denizens   of our inner world inhabit   a  country of the  mind which often remains foreign to us, making  us strangers to our selves, but which nevertheless we can still own and, after a fashion,  assemble cognitively into some kind  of map.

This task  is usually left to poets, novelists, visual artists, choreographers and psychoanalysts. In particular there has been an explosion of interest  amongst artists and writers in creating imaginary maps, maps which represent other possible worlds, or support fictional narratives; Literary cartography has been   established  as a distinctive field of study. However such mappings  remain confined to the imaginative worlds created  by their authors, they rarely  venture into the field of ethno-cartography, to investigate how the cognitive maps of different social groups are shaped by their cultural formation.

At the same time, Cartesian  cartography with its strong commitment to the adequation of  map to  territory has developed ever more precise and high powered digital  technologies for representing  the real via spatial metrics. From this standpoint any  mapping of  ‘the other scene’  carries with it  a strong health warning: ‘ there be monsters’.  Certainly this is  why the mapping of epidemics has largely been confined to the physical geography of its spread, not its emotional impact.   This latter  is supposedly the field of medical anthropology or social psychology , yet, paradoxically, the  approach to cultural epidemiology has not so far  drawn on the  creative resources or methods of critical  cartography.

One of the most frequently re-iterated phrases in official pronouncements about  Covid-19 is that ’we are entering uncharted territory’. So what would it take to map this terra incognita  properly?  Clearly, at one level, it requires a major, international, initiative in   forensic cartography to correlate the epidemiology of the virus   with its patterns  of  dissemination in different societies across the world, comparing  where it has taken hold in a major way with  evidence  from countries where the impact has been less. This would involve the commitment  and co-ordination of   technical and organisational resources on an unprecedented  scale and is unlikely to happen. But what  kind of conceptual and methodological apparatus  could be mobilised for  such an enterprise?

If the actual chains of  physical transmission are impossible to map accurately  once a disease reaches epidemic proportions, its social, cultural, economic and political impacts are much more easily subjected to cartographic reason.  So, for example, it is possible to show not only the spatial distribution  and density of recorded cases at different points in time, but associated  changes in levels and patterns of  economic and social activity, geographical mobility,  local travel, and public behaviour. Anyone familiar with GIS will be able to plot the links between disease hot spots, panic shopping, school  closures and loss of public amenity.

However despite some claims that the cartographical  applications of AI can map the spread of Covid-19 in real time ,  mapping spatial contiguities and even statistical correlations  does  not, in itself,  amount to an adequate  explanation of such a complex phenomenon as an epidemic. Indeed it  may  make it easier to mistake effects for causes. Although mathematical modelling can yield elegant diagrams showing the sensitive dependence of complex non-linear systems (like the  weather)  on their initial conditions, and how small changes in local circumstances  can produce sudden and large scale changes elsewhere in the system ( the so-called butterfly effect), the attempt to apply chaos or catastrophe theory to understand tipping points in the climate of public opinion  have so far failed to produce plausible accounts.

The reason is that although attitudes and behaviour can to some extent be measured through social surveys or direct observation, they are transacted by cultural value orientations  and narratives that are much more difficult to pin down, let alone quantify. Equally in the case of an epidemic we are dealing with a constantly changing assemblage of different indicators   entangled with  a whole lot of outliers whose impact is  difficult to predict or control. These often delayed knock- on effects, for example the impact of Covid-19 on levels and forms of hetero-sexual intimacy, and hence indirectly on the birth rate,  with couples being reluctant to bring a new baby into the world under these circumstances, such complicating factors are beyond the range of impact studies and   are in many cases only analysable  in retrospect.

Should we then fall back on capturing  locally situated knowledge, and focus our mapping on finding out what meanings different groups attach to  the situation, how this shapes/is shaped by  their mental maps and how they navigate the city?  As an urban ethnographer who uses participatory mapping as part of my research toolkit, I am obviously in favour of this approach. But here I need to issue another  health warning. It is one thing to use such autobiographical material to document and analyse the life historical significance of an epidemic event. Quite another to credit it as providing  a ‘true account’ without supplementary information and analysis.

Yet we still urgently  need to  find  ways of exploring and charting this terror  incognita  if we are to develop a coherent response to the threat of a pandemic. One reason for the  incipient  panic around Covid-19   is that however mild and  localised  the illness, it  evokes   a  phantasm of the lethal, the association of what is hidden and un-mappable  with  a boundless  mortal threat. In other words, the invisible replication of the virus comes unconsciously to   represent  that human compulsion to repeat which Freud saw as part of  the ‘death drive’ ; as such it  gives rise to a variety of psychological defences, from outright denial ( as in Trump’s initial refusal to give credence to the risk posed by Covid 19)    to  depressive withdrawal from the world  ( the rich hunkering down to self isolate in  remote luxury quarantine  retreats)  to manic panic ( shops emptied of necessities). .

If epidemiological maps do not directly represent  the  deep patterns of  associative feeling and belief which constitute the mass psychology  of an epidemic, they can unwittingly serve as their support.  Maps  are mobile  interfaces with the world , which geo-locate spatial  trajectories  within  fixed co-ordinates  – and  this is indeed why they  are  mobilised as part of precautionary  modelling strategies to contain, delay, or mitigate  the spread of a disease.  Yet in many cases  the dissemination of such maps  through  public media only  serves  to communicate that the situation is NOT under control and thus undermines the very  messages of public reassurance they are  designed to convey. For example, many newspapers have  carried maps   in which a whole continent ( e. g.  Australia) is painted red, signifying that it is host to Covid -19, even though only  a tiny proportion of the population have so far   tested positive.(Illustration 2) So we have a cartographic totalisation, which covertly  assumes a worst case scenario, while claiming to simply present a current statistical fact. Such  maps can be and certainly are used by public health authorities   to  frighten people into taking precautions and we need to be aware that this is their purpose. If critical cartography has taught us anything it is that maps are not to be taken at face value as objective statements of fact; what they omit and  render invisible through their design parameters is often just as significant as what they show.   .

 

Allegories of  neo-liberalism

Panic is deeply corrosive of civil society, it unites people only in negative reciprocities, where   each of us is other to  and one too many for the other as a potential carrier and everyone just looks out for themselves and their families. In a pre-digital age, panics were relayed primarily by word of mouth, in other words through  rumour. The best, and certainly funniest account of how panics spread in face- to- face communities  is James Thurber’s short story ‘The Day the Dam broke’, in which a mis-overheard  comment on the Main  Street of  a small town in middle America  coincides with someone breaking into a trot  and  soon has the entire population heading for the hills. If you are in need of a good laugh right now, this is recommended reading.

Today  digital on- line  culture, and in particular social media, have given a whole  new meaning to ‘going viral’. Not only because we now have a powerful model of  un-regulated  and virtually uncontrollable  communication, but because there is  a whole   architecture built  up  as a system of defence against rogue pathogens, malevolent  ’ bugs’ which are continually trying to  introduce ‘viruses’ to infiltrate, attack  and  destroy  our operating systems.  The advent of Covid -19 has also encouraged  ‘phishing’ expeditions by online hackers offering to sell you phony  prophylactics  in exchange for your personal details so they can raid your  bank account. If the medical virus doesn’t get you the computer virus will! This doubling up makes virology   an all too  ready  source of  symbolism  for  vilifying  any populations which  might be  at risk of getting  portrayed as ‘ carriers’ of bad news Perhaps we are seeing the first truly cyborg pandemic.

So what makes a disease communicable is not just its mode of physical transmission, but its mode of  media transmission. Covid-19 is in one sense news from nowhere –its arrival was not predictable, and  its sudden  advent, of course, made it instantly newsworthy. Yet in another sense an epidemic  is  always the same, however new the actual bug,  the actual unfolding of the epidemic plot line follows a familiar course,  thus  combining  disruption with   repetition. It is always and already  ‘bad news’.  That  is its   paradoxical time  signature as  Camus was quick to  note .

As such the pandemic has been  a central element in religious eschatology, fuelling popular fascination with end times-  the  apocalypse to come- since at least the Black Death in the Middle Ages. But it takes on a particular resonance within the framework of  digital capitalism  and its mode of circulation . A story that  always   leaves us in suspense in fearful or excited anticipation  of what comes next –is the disease  terminable or interminable –  in other words a narrative that has the structure of a TV soap opera -serializes the   pandemic in a way that integrates it closely with the ‘constant revolution’ of commodity production and consumption – the quest for permanent novelty that keeps the wheels of industry turning. Globally  the news of the virus travels faster  via social media than the virus itself, but its serialization in both space and time ensure that local public responses are invariably behind the curve of events

So  we need to be aware  of how the real relations of viral transmission become  doubled over in a set of imaginary relations. A virus uses the human body as its host, and in a sense lives off it in order to reproduce itself. If the virus is ‘stupid’ it kills its host quickly so that the chain of transmission  is broken and the epidemic, though it  has a high initial mortality rate , sooner or later becomes  self limiting. Ebola was   like that, Covid-19 is an altogether smarter machine. The real trouble starts when this model of host/parasite relations is translated from the physical to the social  body to compose what we might call the moral anatomy of a disease.  Quite simply the carriers get defined as parasites who are rewarding their hosts with the gift of a lethal illness. The ‘cure’ is therefor to exclude or eliminate the parasite at source before it can take up residence in the host society.  We have seen this transposition  manifested all too clearly in recent  xenophobic attacks against Chinese students in London: Covid-19  becomes  the new  ‘yellow peril’.

The  mechanisms that have come into play in this transposition are hardly new.  We are in the midst of  what sociologists call a moral panic, involving  the creation of ‘folk devils’ whose presence in society comes to be seen a threat to its moral health, and even political integrity; this is, because they  are perceived to  transgress  the boundaries or normative behaviour, traditionally policed by  church and  state, but also upheld by communities as marking their internal  borders . In situations where these boundaries are becoming more porous, and civil society  threatens to becomes ‘anomic’, the population of ‘folk devils’ multiplies – immigrants, paedophiles, and drug gangs   currently head the list – in an attempt to  draw the line  between respectable citizens and outlaw denizens. .

Perhaps then we need to go even further back in time and be mindful of the original definition and meaning of the ‘parasite’. It is a compound of two Greek words para, alongside , and sitos food  and it literally means  to eat alongside someone, to share a meal. In the classical Greek polis, those who were strangers, either because they lived beyond the city limits or spoke a foreign tongue, were admitted to its precincts and protected against abuse, exploitation, harassment or being taken hostage, provided they answered to their name, declared who they were, whence they had come, and for what purpose they were now in the city. The foreigner, or xenos thus defined, transformed the citizen into a host: someone who, because they were masters of their own house, and had the power to issue invitations, was both willing and able to invite foreigners into their midst and to share their food and dwelling place with them. In return the host transformed the stranger into a ‘parasite’ in the original, non-pejorative sense of the word: someone who has a right to a place at the table , and whose need for nurturance and assistance is recognised without the need to reciprocate.  Interestingly the term was also used for places at the table reserved for public officers who served the polis .It is only in 16th century Europe that the term took on its current negative connotations, especially in times and places affected by the Plague. Perhaps then it is time  to stop giving  hostages to misfortune and   return to the original Greek sense of hospitality- and incidentally to the deeper sense of hospital as a place where strangers who suffer come to be treated and made well. We certainly need to mobilise and  strengthen all possible  forms off human solidarity and mutual aid if we are to get through this health crisis.  But the signs  are not propitious.

In addition to the danger of creating pariah  populations,   Covid-19 strengthens the hand of those who want to create a new Fortress Britain,  who saw  Brexit as an opportunity to reinvent it as an once- again island nation, surrounded by a  moat defensive’  against the invasion of ‘foreign bodies’. Ironically  it took a virus  to bring home to everyone,  albeit in a wholly negative way, just how globally inter-connected our societies are through trade and tourism., and just  how much magical thinking is involved in evoking  ‘national sovereignty’ and ‘taking back control’ of our borders as a cure for all our ills. The precautionary  strategy of personal and social distancing scales up frictionlessly  into policies of  national isolationism,  with a little help from  nativist  rhetoric. Unfortunately the worst case scenarios currently  being spelt out by some epidemiologists  and inflated into fully fledged genocidal nightmares by the popular press,  provide an all too convincing  rationale for  the  autochthonous dreams  of the  populist  alt-right.

We also need to question the  ‘Don’t Panic- Keep Calm and Carry On,  Britain can take it’ message  headlined by sections of  the right wing  press, especially the Daily Telegraph, which as always is keen to re-animate  sentimental memoryscapes of wartime Britain, when everyone tightened their belts and pulled together. Courtesy of such imaginaries, we are being sleep walked into  a vision of sunlit uplands where the bug has finally  melted away  and we all live happily ever after in Tory Brexitland. Do we need reminding  that the reason why ‘Don’t Panic’ as uttered by the elderly Lance Corporal Jones in Dad’s Army was so funny is that it was uttered in such  a panic stricken voice? One reason the a video clip of this   has gone viral  again is that it perfectly captures the ambiguity of many of the public pronouncements about Covid-19 , albeit in an inverse way: the voice of calm authority issuing statements maximally calculated to induce panic. Perhaps it is as well then that stiff upper lips are hard to sustain in these days of touchy feely politics, and definitely not possible  while  wearing a face mask. No doubt we will be encouraged to display ‘resilience’ – that weasel word which the evangelists of  neo-liberal individualism   use to describe and celebrate  passive adaptation to their austerity   regime. Please note that fortitude and  courage  have a quite different genealogy, in the psycho-social resources  generated through emotional attachment to others, and to the common good.

In more general terms, the key strategy of do-it- yourself quarantining at home  uncannily reproduces  the ‘alone together’  culture of  on- line  community on a vastly enlarged scale, yielding  a world in which face to face  contact is  no longer required for going about one’s business. Although much direct communication is today digitally mediated,   physical co- presence still seems  essential whenever major decisions have to be taken.  Skype is no substitute for being there and democratic governance cannot be delivered if there is no-one in the room. The root meaning of  Parliament is to ‘parley’ and that means to negotiate face to face, not  just screen to screen.  As Plato was the first to tell us  in his Symposium, human dialogue and debate  is best pursued in the context of  conviviality;   the shutting down of  occasions of public congregation, deliberation  and pleasure, however temporary,  must have a profound impact on the quality of  social and political   life. Moreover a policy of minimalizing physical  contact by  virtualising everything from  House of Commons business  to  medical appointments,  lectures and school exams will also further marginalise those who find themselves  on the wrong side of the digital divide .

An epidemic inevitably exposes the fault lines in society, especially those of class. A society whose dominant values maximise competitive individualism, but whose political economy creates  conditions of widespread precarity for large sections of its population is not best equipped to counter the negative bias  hard wired  into our  brain  chemistry, and   which make us such gluttons for punishment  and so addicted to bad news.  The neurological propensity to catastrophism is greatly intensified when and wherever chronic insecurity, both ontological  and material,  puts minds and bodies  on constant  red alert; if people literally do not know where or when their next payment, or next job  is coming from  then their level of epistemic trust in the world as a safe haven for their  hopes and aspirations tends to  fall to zero. So too does their trust in  politicians  who promise them a cornucopia of good things  and deliver at best a few crumbs from the rich man’s table. As for  epidemic researchers, including scientists  and medical authorities who attempt to re-assure people that things are not as bad as they might seem  on social media  and  that the solution lies in their own  hands, (provided  they wash them often enough), they are lumped in the same category : Danger! Experts at work!! As a result some of the most vulnerable groups are least likely to heed public health advice.

There is  also a generational, dynamic in some of the more off- the- wall responses. The fact that Covid-19 is most dangerous to  senior citizens, especially those with underlying medical conditions,  has not been lost on closet  eugenicists who welcome  the ‘culling’  of this ‘surplus population’ as stabilising a demographic  equilibrium that has been distorted by life prolonging advances in medical science. Social Darwinists  are also crawling out the woodwork to re-assert the pseudo -evolutionary principle of the survival of the fittest.  A  quasi oedipal dimension is added by  those who see an opportunity here to  challenge and undermine the power of the Gerontocracy  who are hoarding assets ( like houses) and opportunities (like jobs by refusing to retire) at the expense of the young. The bitter sweet revenge of  Generation Rent who will be able to come into their inheritance rather sooner than later !   Many of these responses belong to the rich psychopathology of mass epidemics. But one of the savage ironies of the current  public  health crisis is that some of  these constructs  are mirrored in the precautionary strategies advocated by certain epidemiologists. Those who  early on stressed the importance of attaining what they call ‘herd immunity’ as quickly as possible, in lieu of any vaccination, were demanding the radical separation of the generations. The young and healthy  were to be herded into spaces of maximum contact ( like clubs and  pubs) where they could cross infect one another and get  mild versions of the illness which wouldl give them the necessary antibodies to prevent onward transmission. In contrast the elderly and infirm should be quarantined in spaces of maximum social isolation  to ensure their safety. In this way the epidemic of isolation and loneliness already suffered by many senior citizens, who have little or no contact with family or neighbours , is magically transformed into a life saver. In the process  the social atomisation endemic to neo-liberal  capitalism Is massively validated. It also serves to seal the trauma of debility or loss  inside the individual, where it will germinate a subsequent epidemic of post-traumatic stress with  which our impoverished mental health services will struggle to cope. There is no vaccination against the mass emotional fall out of Covid-19.

Fortunately the herd immunity strategy was met with a wave of popular protest and a vigorous re- aseertion of inter-generational solidarity. But this episode shows that  we cannot separate out responses to  a national health crisis from the broader  culture and body politic in which  it ise embedded. A  prevention  strategy built around the notion of self- isolation, both for   victims and the vulnerable, is a way of privatising  illness in a  situation where  public   services, especially the NHS have been so run down that they clearly cannot cope with even ‘normal’ epidemics  like seasonal flu. Moreover  an approach  which   makes  everyone individually responsible  for their own safety, gives a therapeutic gloss to  the neo-liberal agenda, The overall  impact of austerity has been to drastically  weaken the collective capacity of communities  to  respond pro-actively and rationally  to crisis situations. Ironically, just at the moment when neo-liberalism has lost traction, even amongst the business classes, it is given  a new lease of life as a pragmatic  response to the health emergency in a way which allows its political  evangelists to wash their hands of any responsibility for the state of our public services.  Boris Johnson declares that his  government is on a ‘war footing’, but this is wartime neo-liberalism, not wartime socialism, although it it is also clear that new forms of citizen solidarity and mutual aid  are emerging ,.in response to the failure of both State and market to respond adequately to the crisis.,

The Tory New Right is essentially libertarian , which is perhaps why they originally opted for the laissez-faire approach of herd immunity . But they have been forced by events to move in the opposite direction . Solitary confinement, not as a punishment for bad behaviour but as a protective device may initially be voluntary, but it  relies for its enforcement  on the State’s assumption of special emergency powers  which suspend many hard fought- for civil liberties. Although public consent may well be engineered for a time, there is some risk that some aspects of this ‘state of exception’ may   become the new normal or at least have a long term  ratchet effect on democratic rights . We are  aleady seeing this in Hungary where Victor Orban has used the health crisis as a smoke screen for introducing  draconian new powers which abolish any kind of democratic accountability for his actions.

The health crisis   also potentially empowers   technocratic  visions of a surveillance and control society, in which ‘at risk’ groups, i.e groups profiled as a special  epidemiological  threat,  are electronically tagged so their movements are traceable and mappable at all times.    The utopia of ‘smart cities’, or urban governance by algorithm,   all too easily morphs into an Orwellian nightmare. In fact we are seeing the materialisation of a new  geography of risk which mirrors the dystopias portrayed in films like Blade Runner :  exclusion zones, evacuation  zones, ‘red’ lock down zones, so many lines drawn in shifting sands. Public places are suddenly de-populated, ghost neighbourhoods and even whole cities  are patrolled by zombies in space suits. The familiar rhythms of   everyday life are disrupted or rendered strange. The urban uncanny rules OK.

More immediately important is that the  implementation of emergency measures comes up  against some harsh  economic realities. A new spatial division of labour is emerging between  the ‘homies’, those who can work at home and those who cannot, the former being mostly concentrated in back office  managerial or administrative  functions ,or in the knowledge economy, the latter in manual work and the delivery of front line personal services. Many of the ‘at risk’ groups   are on low incomes and working in the gig economy on zero hour contracts where they  cannot afford to take time off . The demographic of the illness is likely to reflect these hard  facts.

 

Disease as Metaphor  and Metonym

These developments on the ground  find  their counterpart in fictional scenarios with which we have become familiar through popular culture. There is  a whole sub-genre of science fiction, disaster and horror movies which explore  what happens when a deadly and hitherto unknown virus  wipes out whole populations and destroys the infrastructure of civil society. Escapist movies  may well  have an appeal to those who  cannot escape but  I would guess that films like Outbreak (1995), Virus (1999) Steven Soderbergh’s  Contagion (2011), Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later (2002)  and its sequel 28 Weeks Later (2011) are due for a big boost in rental  streaming sales, even if the major  cinema chains forebear to show them for fear of lowering public morale (Illustration 3). Meanwhile in the bookshops Stephen King’s The Stand with its graphic depiction  of total societal breakdown after an influenza  virus being developed for  biochemical warfare is accidentally released,  is flying  off the shelf. My local Waterstones  had sold out. Along similar plotlines,  Dean Koonz’ The Eyes of Darkness,  another  page turner first published in 1981 about a  bio-weapon  developed by the Chinese  in Wu-han and designed to produce 100 % mortality rates in targeted populations within 24 hours, this has become a best seller over night. Having your worst fears fictionalized is maybe a cathartic, if magical way  of preventing them being realized.

Video games, which we are being encouraged to play during lockdown are another major source of popular  pandemic scenario construction, much of it based on conspiracy theories about the disease’s provenance..For example  Bloodborne follows the player’s character through a GothicVictorian  city whose inhabitants have been afflicted with an abnormal blood-borne disease.The player  moves  around the city to  find  the source of the plague while killing various  monsters, human and animal  en route. Tom Clancy’s The Division  is set prophetically  in 2020 New York City in the aftermath of a viral pandemic; the player, a Special Agent of the Strategic Homeland Division, is tasked with helping the group rebuild its operations in Manhattan, investigate the nature of the n outbreak, and combat criminal activity in its wake. Infected is also set  in New York City, where  the entire city is being infected with a virus that turns people into bloodthirsty zombies.  In an individualistic  riff on herd immunity the player’s blood contains the cure, which less than 1% of the population possesses, the aim of the game  being  to destroy the infected while trying to reach someone who can make a cure from the blood.

I do not think we should underestimate the extent to which this kind of material is actively shaping public responses to Covid-19 and the measures taken to mitigate it. Fortunately there  is  also  important  literature  which focuses  on  the epidemic as a way to study the human condition and how people behave under stress. Philip Roth’s Nemesis examines the impact of the  Polio outbreak  on a neighbourhood in Newark in the 1940’s  in graphic emotional detail. Other writers  stress the allegorical dimensions.  For Camus, writing just after the 2nd world war,  La Peste, although drawing on his experience of an actual epidemic  in Oran ( Algiers second city),was  essentially a metaphor for the corrosive effect of fascism and the German occupation on everyday life in  occupied France. He talks of a’ crazy world, in which men were killed off like flies’  and  ’a reign of terror, that precise savagery and calculating frenzy, experienced by a populace part of which was fed daily into a furnace and went up in oily flames, while the rest, in shackled impotence, awaited their turn’.

This double reference takes on even more pertinence in the present context when responses on the European Left have tended to polarize between those, like Giorgio Agembem who see  the pandemic as essentially an ideological construct  designed to legitimate the creation of a neo-fascist State, and those like Slavov Zizek who welcome the advent of Covid-!9 as creating the conditions for a rapid transition to a radical form of democratic socialism or even communism. Camus rejected both these positions, but reserved his polemic for those he calls ‘human-ists’ who deny the virus any material efficacy:

‘….. our townsfolk were like everybody else, wrapped up in them selves; in other words they were human-ists; they disbelieved in pestilences. A pestilence isn’t a thing made to human measure’; therefore we tell ourselves  that pestilence is a mere bogey of the mind , a bad dream that will always pass away. But it doesn’t always pass away and from one bad dream to another, it is humans who pass away, and the human-ists first of all because they have’nt taken their precautions.Our townsfolk were not more to blame than others, they forgot to be modest  that was all  and thought that everything was still possible for them; which presupposed that pestilences were impossible. They went on doing business , arranged for journeys, formed views. How should they have given a thought to anything like plague which rules out the future , cancels journeys, silences the exchange of views. They fancied themselves free  and no-one will ever be free as long as there are pestilences. ‘

This brings to mind the attitude of Michel Foucault, paradoxically  an arch anti-humanist but who saw AIDS as a purely discursive formation  prompted by homophobia. He ignored the health warnings about how the virus was transmitted, continued to frequent the gay saunas and bathhouses in New York and promptly   caught  and subsequently died.

In contrast  for Thomas Mann  in Death in Venice  the plague  is  at once a material and symbolic presence  associated with a paralyzing miasma emanating from the city’s  canals and swamps. This in turn  is associated with  the state of mind of a middle aged write who is transfixed by his  infatuation for  an adolescent boy visiting the Lido with his family.   Aschenbach has a perverse attachment to this strange conjuncture of Eros and Thanatos which he feels is destroying him but is powerless to escape:

’ His heart filled with satisfaction about what the outside world was about to go through. Because passion, like crime, does not like everyday order and well-being and every slight undoing of the bourgeois system, every confusion and infestation of the world is welcome to it, because it can unconditionally expect to find its advantage in it. So Aschenbach felt a somber contentment  about the terrible happenings in the grimy streets of the city that merged with his own innermost secret’.

As Susan Sontag argues  in her  book about AIDS, the so called ’ gay plague’, one of the disavowed seductions of an epidemic, its capacity to both fascinate and horrify, derives from the fact that it functions as  both  metaphor  and  metonym for the catastrophic  state of the body politic.  For the Left   the epidemic   stands for the diseased state of the nation  which requires radical socialist measures to create a new regime of public well being. For the Right it  symbolises  the malign presence of  ‘enemies within’ whose purging  alone will  restore the body politic  to health.

It could also  be argued that the epidemic  has a more directly material meaning and effect. In ‘The Shock Doctrine’ Naomi Klein shows that catastrophes,  whether in the form of  natural disasters, like earthquakes, Tsunamis and other   extreme weather events,   stock market crashes  and terrorist attacks,   all   these apparent shocks to  the capitalist system can be turned to its corporate advantage, as so many opportunities to make enormous profits out of remedial and reconstruction projects. Pandemics are definitely not business as usual, and Covid- 19 may indeed prove a tipping point for a  global recession.

These are not, in my view, mutually exclusive standpoints, but they do locate the issue on rather  different terrains, one  constituted by  the social imaginary of disease and disaster,  the other focusing on  its direct social   impact and  economic consequences . Each requires a specific kind of road map’, but  neither on its own  is adequate.

 

A plague in both your houses

It is salutary in this respect to compare the accounts of the Great Plague of London (1665/6 )given by a contemporary who lived through it, the diarist Samuel Pepys, and a  reconstruction of the events published nearly sixty years later by Daniel Defoe in A Journal of the Plague Year. Pepy’s diary entries are concise, sometimes  to the point of terseness;  they  notate the onset of the epidemic, its growth, citing some not very reliable figures of death rates, and  various meetings  with people directly affected, including, in one entry, a close encounter with a corpse in the street. He records mounting anxiety, including his own, and increasing efforts to escape the city but overall the reader is left with the impression that the plague  was a nuisance, in so far as it inhibited Pepys  going about his daily business, but not much more.

Defoe’s text tells a very  different story.  It may be based on a journal written by his uncle at the time, but this is supplemented by Defoe’s subsequent  research, and also by his sociological  imagination. There is  a fictional narrator HF,  a saddler, whose identity is only  revealed at the end, and through whose eyes  the drama unfolds. The realism of his account is  sustained through the introduction of   statistics and other hard data, charts, and government documents which pepper the text. This armature of facticity is fleshed out with  dramatic stories, purporting to be ‘true life accounts’ of grieving fathers, crazed men running through the streets, people throwing themselves into burial pits from pain or grief, people blaspheming the name of God, houses being looted, and so on.

It would be an interesting exercise to compare the  epidemiological  geographies constructed by each text, and plot the locations mentioned by each writer against the evidence we have of the spatial distribution of the disease. Pepys, after all, had some motivation to avoid plague hotspots in his daily journeying around the city; his pattern of avoidance is itself significant evidence of the plague’s symbolic and material  impact..  Defoe had no such problem and could let his fictional narrator, and his authorial  imagination roam where he will. He has a definite political agenda: to demonstrate how well  the city authorities behaved to maintain public order, but  also to argue against the shutting up of houses and enforced quarantine on the grounds that it drives people to flee the city and carry the plague elsewhere. These are the primary ‘actants’ of the narrative and its network of associations.

There is  no doubt which of these two accounts  gives the more vivid picture of what it is like to live through a deadly epidemic. Defoe’s graphic realism trumps Pepy’s terse notations on every page. But while  the study of such anecdotal  texts might contribute to a literary cartography of epidemics it does  not offer much in the way of  cultural epidemiology. For this we would need to combine a   material analysis of the virus and  its  multiplier effects  with a  realist analysis of how it  shaped  structures of popular feeling and story telling.  Is there a methodology capable to doing both  at the same time  which is also  fit for cartographic purpose?

 

 ANT: Opening the black box

Actor Network theory (ANT)  was first  developed  in the 1970’s by sociologists  concerned to understand practices  of science and technology without  reducing them either to sui generis explanations or to  a purely  social construction. For this purpose Bruno Latour and his colleagues drew on narratology, and the notion of an actant, as whatever  makes a difference, in terms of   unfolding the story and moves it on. This could be an object (a brick, a painting, buried treasure), an environment ( a trap door, an island, a mountain), a piece of technology ( a computer, steering wheel,  3D printer),   a human ( the narrator and other protagonists, )  or a non-human ( an animal. a plant  or a  virus). What interested Latour was how to  make the analysis a level playing field  for all these different kinds of actor, so as to trace their associations, the relays that linked them and formed them into a network    without  assigning them any preferential causality or presuming to know in advance what their ultimate  importance  might be. So instead of ordering the actants  into macro or micro, and inscribing them in a hierarchy of determinations, the aim of ANT research is  follow them as  closely as possible in their inter-actions on the ground .Latour  describes its mission like this:

‘ANT is best treated as a methodological  sensibility, as a craft or set of practices  working slowly on and in the world, to establish its uncertainty principles, as empirically complicated, as situated  and as passionate as the world itself because it stays with the trouble. ANT describes the heterogeneity of the world, its relationality and unfoldingness, its uncertainty principles, the entanglements of the human and non human’.

Epidemiology is nothing if not about those entanglements, and how to  trace and disentangle  them. In the case of Covid 19 the key actants  include  the behaviour of bats, customary practices of animal husbandry amongst Chinese peasants,,Dr Li Wenliang in Wuhan  who tried to warn the authorities about the virus  but who was gagged, and subsequently died from it,   the People’s Liberation Army who imposed the total lockdown on this and other cities, and facial recognition technology which  enforced the wearing of masks. In such a   network the human and non-human components are continually exchanging their properties, engaging in mutual translations to form hybrids, and in the process real relations of transmission get translated into imaginary ones.We have already seen how this happens in the discussion of moral panics.

One of the  key tasks  of   ANT policy  analysis is to calibrate the scale of the problem with the scope of the  intervention, and vice versa. For  example in moving from strategies of epidemic containment, to delay and then mitigation, the actants  change size and shape, and so does the scope and scale of the networks in which they are enmeshed.  If this  calibration or its phasing  is faulty  then the consequences can be disastrous. A study using this approach into the management of the Foot and Mouth Disease outbreak in the UK  in 2001 found that  the resources released in  initial preventative measures were not only inadequate to the scale of the problem and failed to contain the virus but impacted on the rural economy  in ways which undermined the capacity of farming communities to cope with the scope of its impact on their everyday lives. This is where mapping can help.  Scaling and scoping is precisely what cartography is about. An ANT  generated map would not be topographic( viz geo-locating statistical  clusterings ), but topological, showing the patterns of dis/continuity  in epidemiological networks as these unfold , stretch and contract over time, and tropological  illustrating the changing tropes that are applied to give the virus a local habitation and a home  in different cultures.

 

Are we that mask?

Let’s take a simple example of how the  entanglements of the human and non-human   occurs to  produces hybrids: the role of the mask in communicable disease. The association dates back to the Black Death and is embodied in the figure of the plague doctor. As a result of frequent outbreaks  in Europe in the 15th and 16th centuries with very high mortality rates, many towns and cities appointed special ‘plague doctors’ whose role was both to  monitor and record the progress of the disease  and treat the victims. In addition they often counselled the families of the stricken and bereaved  and helped victims make their wills. They were not trained doctors, and often carried out other trades during normal times; nevertheless  these early para-medics had high status and were well rewarded. They wore a  protective  costume   consisting of a light, waxed fabric overcoat and  a distinctive mask with a single glass  eye and a beak shaped nose, which served to prevent them making intimate  face to face contact with their patients. (Illustration 4) The beak was  typically stuffed with herbs, straw, and spices to guard against inhaling  the  pestilential ‘atmosphere’, or at least  protect their noses from the smell of putrefying corpses. The mask  was thus a key actant, operating in between medical and ritual  discourses.  Thence  its function was translated  into popular cultures  of masquerade,  especially in the Venice Carnival,  where the beak mask continues to this day to play a dramatic  role as a reminder of the fragility of human existence. It is possible that the descriptor, through not the mask itself, travelled subliminally across the channel, where it came to characterise the judgemental role of  the magistrate in the  argot of the ‘criminal  and perishing classes’ who often found themselves ‘up before the beak.’

Fast forward to 2020 and medical authorities disagree about the effectiveness of wearing masks to prevent  viral  transmission. The extent of the  public take up of hygienic  masks is, of course, partly determined by the type and effectiveness of the advice issued by public health authorities in different countries. In China it is an official policy enforced by law. A But take up  is also overdetermined by highly specific cultural factors linked to normative  strategies of social  intimacy and distancing, definitions of bodily space, and, not least, the ritual role of masks.

I was recently in Japan whose public culture is centred on an elaborate social etiquettes of civility. This includes the   practice of mutual bowing in greeting and farewell. The body is regarded as a medium of social communication, through the eyes, gestures and posture, but not through hugging,  kissing, hand shaking  or other kinds of physical contact. During my visit, the most visible aspect of public civility was the wearing of hygienic masks. Masks are an important feature of traditional Japanese folk culture, especially in Kabuki and Noh plays, where  they serve a purely symbolic function in identifying a character’s social status and dramatic role. The everyday wearing of medical masks is a relatively new phenomenon and dates from the SARS epidemic of 2003. This serious and sometimes lethal respiratory illness was mainly concentrated in Hong Kong and mainland China but also provoked panic and emergency measures in Japan. However when the emergency subsided, many people went on wearing the masks. Today the practice is quite widespread, and many people, both young and old, mask up whenever colds and flu are prevalent. During my visit it was hay fever season, (which in Japan is caused by pollen from the omnipresent cedar trees)  and it was rather disconcerting to converse with people whose replies were so muffled for someone from a culture with very different attitudes to facial masks..

A Japanese anthropologist I met suggested that there was a hidden agenda behind the practice. In her view  wearers of  masks are not so much  trying to protect themselves from other people’s germs ( which the masks are anyway  not good at)   as  to protect other people from their own (which they are more effective at).  However this is limited altruism. Wearing a mask is  an implicit   injunction for other people to do the same, and if they do not – and many still do not – then they can be regarded as selfish or anti-social, breaking the code of public civility.  In this culture, pollution, whether from natural causes or from social interaction is regarded as an unwarranted intrusion into personal space. Just as ritual greeting avoids physical contact so  this double masking may indirectly serve to reduce the chances of infection even though in and of themselves the masks offer very limited protection. It is because the mask functions as part of an actor-network that this is possible.

In Britain,  face  masking is traditionally  associated with aristocratic/bohemian excess as exemplified in  the masked ball,  with the balaclava and  criminal  banditry, and more recently with the kitsch guising of children at Halloween.  in other words it represents  some form of transgression or deviance from dominant cultural norms. Moreover there is no etiquette of public civility anchored to personal body space to support the practice of wearing hygienic masks.   As a result there is likely to be much more public  resistance to adopting its use than in Japan. One exception might be urban cyclists who already often wear masks to reduce the respiratory impact of traffic pollution, and for whom it has become something of a fashion accessory along with lycra shorts.

At the moment of writing (early March 2020) anyone wearing a face mask  in public in the UK is likely to be seen as carrier of Covid -19 and to be subject to social avoidance  or worse. The mask is a signifier of the virus presence, the public face of the epidemic. This may, of course change, as and when the number of cases grows exponentially.  It may be difficult to predict the exact  tipping point but there could come a time when those not wearing a mask come to be seen as a threat to public health and in turn become subject to social ostracism. So now wearing a mask becomes an exercise in virtue signalling in  a regime  of  moral hygiene which creates a whole new category of social outcasts.     In the theoretical language of ANT, the mask is a hybrid which has translated  the virus as a key intermediary or relay  in the   association  of human and non-human  actors which  compose the epidemiological network. We have all become caught up in this network. Irrespective of actual our hygienic practices, we have  become the mask the virus wears.

 The psycho-social geography of risk

Covid-19 is transforming our mental maps of the environment as well as the way we navigate it. A new tactile geography of risk is emerging in which hitherto safe public  spaces like parks, playgrounds, squares ,schools ,libraries and university campuses, cinemas and theatres,.parking lots  become no go- areas ;And also areas associated with dangerous people or risky  practices- street gang territories,  shoot up alleys used by drug addicts are suddenly emptied and become safe for dog walkers.There is also a new tactile phenomenology in play, in which flat surfaces, doorways,, letter boxes, and  handles of any kind are suddenly seen to be potential  virus ‘hotspots’ requiring special precautionary measures to interact with them..

How people respond to these changes depends to a large extent on their emotional dispositions  and forms of attatchment to place. One relevant model of comportment in relation to the material and psycho-social environment is to be found in the work of two psycho-analysts,  Michael and Edna Balint. In their book Thrills and Regression, the Balints  characterise two modes  of emotional and spatial orientation to objects and the environment.  Their starting point is Freud’s insight  that the mother’s body is the first landscape we learn to explore; in particular Freud stresses the ambivalence that arises from the fact that it is both a site of intense delight and an object of deep anxiety.[i]   The maternal  body is both the infant’s first home and a medium for making sense of what is strange and unfamiliar about the wider environment. The mother’s (or subsitute carer’s)  arms and lap are our first prospect on the world, from whence we launch ourselves experimentally in search of our first adventures in life; if all goes well these same arms and lap are our nearest and most reliable refuge from the hazards, disappointments and terrors we encounter en route. Later, as we grow up, the mother’s body will provide a model or  analogue of the dens, turfs, territories, niches, and other devices through which we give a local habitation and name to our larger ambitions, rivalries and fears.

The Balints argue that there are two complimentary but  different ways of holding the mother’s body unconsciously in mind.  In the first mode  ( hich they call philobatic)  people enjoy exploring the wide open spaces, are always on the look out for new experiences and dares, like courting danger and the unknown, and see obstacles as challenges to their resourcefulness. They travel hopefully because their psycho-geography consists of warm, friendly expanses which are felt to be safe and encompassing, a supportive stage for exciting performance; the child has the whole wide world in its arms, the world is your oyster and you are its pearl! At the same time this landscape is dotted more or less densely with dangerous and unpredictable objects, threatening in their independence, thrilling in their challenge, representing hazards that have to be overcome. There is an underlying confidence that when things get risky or the going gets rough the wider world will click in and will provide resources to enable you to anticipate or head off potential disaster.

The philobat goes to war as to a remote but exciting spectacle in which s/he will play a heroic part, on the front line, or possibly acting at a distance from their back yard. In this idiom which many commentators misrecognise by calling it resilience, scenes of death  may be turned into something awesome rather than aweful. War- or a pandemic-  is a world turned upside down, but one which yields exciting new possibilities. When danger comes, philobats feel safer out in the open, under the sheltering sky, where they can command a view of what is going on.

In contrast,  the second orientation ( which the Balints call ocnephilic)  people only feel safe when they stay close to home, when they are surrounded by familiar objects, signs and landmarks, where they feel literally in touch with their surroundings; they cannot bear the thought of exposing themselves to danger. It is the inn, not the road that attracts them, and they do not travel hopefully, if at all.  They are always making little dens for themselves and looking for potential bolt holes in and against a wider world that is experienced as hostile or threatening. The ocnephilic universe thus consists of safe familiar objects separated by vast abysmal empty spaces, unconsciously representing maternal abandonment, there is no good mother there, only a bad, persecuting and at the limit emotionally dead one. This is associated with a pervasive fear of being dropped, let down, losing or being torn away from objects. That is why there is so much clinging to the object, such intense attachment to place, in the belief that it will somehow click in and shield you from external danger. Behind this lies the desire for a totally benign and protective environment, a world in which all risk and anxiety has been eliminated and one is held forever in the warm embrace of a protective family or  state, guaranteeing permanent  ontological security.

This model deals in two ideal types of environmental orientation, which may correlate with certain kind of personality, those who are risk takers or risk averse, or phobias (claustrophobia and agoraphobia) but empirically they are found in a variety of weak and strong combination , and people may shift between one mode and another according to the context and conjuncture in which they find themselves.

I hope however that the reader will by now  be aware of how relevant this model is to  understanding  different emotional responses to the risk represented by the virus and the measures that have been introduced to combat its spread. The advent of the pandemic is an ocnephile charter, it dramatically endorses the view of the  external world as an overwhelmingly threatening and hostile  space with home as the only safe place in it.  From this standpoint  the lockdown will feel quite comfortable  but  people may take some persuading that it is safe to go out for a walk! In contrast those of a philobatic tendency will feel deeply resentful of the constraints on their freedom of movement, which they will experience as an unwarranted attack not just on their personal liberty but their very mode of being in the world. They  will feel claustrophobic being cooped up  indoors , are very likely to engage in risky behaviour and hence are more likely to catch the virus. Mapping these standpoints to demographic metrics we thus have the basis  for undertaking an emotional cartography of Covid-19.

The cartographic challenge

I have argued that official responses to the Covid-19 epidemic  offers us a powerful allegory  of neo-liberalism  and also that the tools required to map  its real, imaginary and symbolic dimensions are hampered  by their confinement to different cartographic cultures. Nevertheless open source software,  facilitating  the digital capture of analog material  and participatory community mapping  projects  using multi-media formats are  both  beginning to make headway . Radical cartography finds itself  on many front lines of intervention at the present time, in projects designed  to protect the environment and civil society, public  health and well being, the rights of indigenous and minority communities.

One problem with combining qualitative approaches to  narrative or life story mapping   with cartograms using  algorithms  to  depict  big  quantitative  data sets is that  they operate at quite different levels of granularity, and require radically different skill sets to make and use.  In addition mapping that involves direct community participation takes time to establish trust, something that is in short supply right now , along with time itself. The challenge then is to find  ways of locating   people’s stories, their fears and fantasies  in a cartographic format  that also  contextualises these   locally situated perceptions in relation to  wider  spatial  metrics.   The model for this approach – and the inspiration for much of Living maps work –  is William Bunge’s  ‘expeditionary geography’ as exemplified in his book Fitzgerald: Diary of a Revolution. Here we have   a rich mix of oral testimony, ethnographic observation, photographic documentation and metric maps, meshing in  the  quantitative and the  qualitative, not in some whimsical or chaotic assemblage as in Defoe’s Journal of the Plague Year but in a strategic cartography  of  racism and how the American Dream failed Detroit’s black communities. We surely need a similar approach for an Atlas of this pandemic.

It  seems to me that the current world disorder, of which the  Corona  pandemic is only one aspect,  poses new challenges for cartographers concerned to map injustices and to identify   emergent resources and sites of progressive resistance to inequality, oppression and exploitation.  Some of the challenges, as I have indicated, are technical: the intensified flow of people, information, goods and services generates ever larger data sets  whose visual representation  via algorithmic  cartograms poses special  problems of legibility for non- specialist readers. Equally  space/time compression created by digital communications technologies  means that  do- it- yourself cognitive  maps which people use to find their way about and make immediate sense of the world   cannot  represent the  global network of connections and power  that underpins these  everyday navigations.

Today whole  populations find themselves living in – and fleeing from -war zones of various kinds: civil wars, drug wars, gang wars, wars against crime, wars against poverty which target  the  poor, and  now public   health  wars against viral epidemics which lock down whole cities.  Meanwhile global climate heating is destroying homes and livelihoods through fire, floods, and famine  on an epic scale. It is a supreme irony  that  people whose homes have been flooded, or who have been made homeless by economic pressures are now being told to ‘ stay home’ to prevent the spread of  Covid-19.

 

Happily ever after ?

The urgency of taking up this challenge  is underlined by monitoring the current infodemic  on social media around Covid-19, where it is either portrayed as fake news, or the end of the world.. On facebook and twitter Britain is rapidly becoming a nation of germophobes. Conspiracy theories abound across  the ideological spectrum. We learn that the virus  is ‘nature’s revenge’ for refusing to take vegetarianism seriously. Or it is God’s punishment for failing to observe His Laws. Or  it is  down to Boris Johnson  because he wants to be able to blame the coming recession on a providential act of God, not on his government’s policies, or the impact of Brexit.  Or it is a dastardly plot to delay Brexit. Professional conspiracy theorists are much in evidence: Covid-19 has been engineered by Big Pharma  to make a killing out of  producing a new vaccine. And of course we know who is behind Big Pharma, don’t we? That’s right   Jewish finance capital ! According to the eco-fascists the virus  is to be welcomed because the world is over-populated and it  will kill off those who would die anyway and are a drain on energy resources. So three cheers for the epidemic   because it  puts the planet  on course for a sustainable green future.

The lowest common denominator in all these phantasmagoric constructs is a refusal to recognise the existence of actor-networks in which human and non-human are always and already  equally  enmeshed. Instead an alternative and entirely imaginary epidemiological  structure   is created in which the role of  non-human actors (i.e the virus) is denied any autonomy, and instead becomes an instrument   subordinated to  and controlled  by malignant  human or divine  actors. People  who  espouse conspiracy theories do so because they feel powerless. Through the strenuous exercise of magic thinking an  attempt is made  to take back control of the situation, to reduce the apparent arbitrariness of effect ( due in this case to the opportunistic way the virus reproduces itself)  to a single mono-causal principle of explanation , and then lodge  that principle in an agency that replicates all the features of the virus itself: a hidden hand manipulating the outcome , deciding our destinies  ‘behind our backs’.

The only redeeming feature of  social media  is the presence of a certain gallows humour, much of it  predictably  related to sex. Although the virus is not sexually transmitted as such, the new taboo on social intimacy,  especially kissing and hugging, has  inevitably triggered much caustic comment, especially from young people. So we have seen a spate of  memes along the lines of ‘ Carry on wanking- its good for your health!’  Predictably racist imagery is flourishing.  A photograph on Facebook  of a  young  couple in Hong Kong embracing wearing face masks  provoked the comment which duly  went viral :  ‘Ever tried a Chinese kiss ? No, its a  kiss of death, mate’.

Faced with the widespread dissemination of this kind of  nonsense, often mischievously offering what are essentially counsels of despair masquerading as principles of hope, it is tempting to think that a programme  of  public information and enlightenment will do the trick.  Just give people the scientific facts and they will exercise common sense. Unfortunately on its own that  kind of rationalist strategy is condemned to fail because it lacks any purchase on the social imaginary of contagious disease. We might do better to address this ‘other scene’ more directly to make sure that devil does not have all the best tunes.

This caveat  brings to mind  the  nursery rhyme  ‘ring- a- ring- a ring- of roses’  which  is  a salutary  counter-point  to ‘Happy Birthday’ we are being encouraged to sing silently to ourselves   while we ‘religiously’  wash our hands and hope we do not catch  OCD.  Readers may recall  the words of the nursery rhyme  from their childhood :

Ring-a-ring-a-rosies
A pocket full of posies
Atishoo, atishoo
We all fall down

The lyrics  actually refer  to the great Plague of London which, as we’ve seen,  Samuel Pepys and Daniel Defoe chronicled  to such different effect. And which   killed over a fifth of the city’s population. Its key symptom was a red rash and many Londoners carried a posy of flowers to ward off the germs.  The plague was no respecter of persons as the next verse tells us :

The king has sent his daughter
To fetch a pail of water

Atishoo, atishoo
We all fall down

Nature has the final cautionary word in the third and usually omitted  last verse:

The robin on the steeple
Is singing to the people
Atishoo, atishoo
We all fall down

Today  children only learn the first verse as part of a playground game and this is often  followed by an  entirely apocryphal additional stanza   to provide an upbeat ending :

Feel the lovely sunshine

Going all around

Lets all have fun

Jumping off the ground.

(See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_hRfg-QXmU)

If we substitute ‘ a tissue’ for the onomatopoeic ‘Atishoo’ we get a slightly different and more useful  health  message  but  the moral of this  cautionary tale of ‘translation’ remains the same,  at least from the vantage point of  counter-mappers: you cannot extract the ‘rational kernel’ from the mystical shell of popular belief   unless you also recognise that it contains something real  which is also unrepresentable, something that remains  unthought and inarticulate in that idiom. It is that unknown relation and its possible cognitive assemblage in a cartographic format that should be the experimental  focus of our map making.

If there is not  going  to be any  fairy tale ending, are there any rational   grounds for hope that some  good things may still  come of it ? Schools who abandon SATS may discover that they can do without them altogether and that there are other, more useful and creative ways of’ evaluating educational performance. People who don’t have cars but  feel that travelling on public transport is too risky may take to walking or cycling instead and find to their amazement that this is a far more enjoyable, efficient and cheaper way of getting about. The crisis will emphasise the central importance of public  services, not only the NHS, but social care and welfare systems, the youth service, the arts and parks, in maintaining  the moral  fabric of civil society. Finally we may also discover the limits of State intervention and re-learn the capacity for collective self organisation and mutual aid that is the foundation of  any participatory democracy . Certainly plans for dealing with the emergency, if they are to be effective,   need to be built up from locally situated knowledge and sensitively adapted to the specific circumstances of particular communities, not  imposed by legislative fiat as a one size fits all top- down model. For example hygienic practices that might be acceptable to one faith community might seem bizarre or abhorrent to another. Local initiatives   may yet prove game changers and certainly something  worth putting on a  map of possible outcomes. From a Left perspective, we  need to be sure that as and when such positive  actions take place  they are not highjacked by a triumphalist one- nation Toryism, but joined up into a vision of what it might be like to create a polity and economy that works for the many and not the few.

 

Acknowledgements

I would like to thanks all those friends and colleagues  who commented on earlier drafts of this text, and in particular Mike Duggan for his many useful suggestions on how to Improve its argumentation.

 

Works consulted or cited

Giorgio Agemben  State of Exception  University of Chicago Press 2002

Michael and Edna Balint  Thrills and Regression Tavis

Christopher Bollas  The Shadow of the Object : psychoanalysis of the Unthought Known Routledge 2018

William Bunge Fitzgerald: diary of a revolution University of Georgia Press 1976

Albert Camus The Plague Penguin 1972

Phil Cohen Waypoints: towards an ecology of political mindfulness eyeglass books 2019

Stan Cohen  Folk Devils and Moral Panics Taylor and Francis 2011

Daniel Defoe A Journal of the Plague Year Penguin 1991

Andrew Donaldson et al ‘Virus-Crisis-Institutional change: The foot and mouth actor network and the governance of rural affairs in the UK’  Sociologica Ruralis Vol 42 2002

Paul Elliott et al Spatial Epidemiology Oxford Scholarship 2001

Kai T Erikson A New Species of Trouble: the human experience of modern disaster Norton 1995

N Katherine Hayles   Unthought :the power of the cognitive non-conscious Chicago UP 2017

Paolo Freire  Pedagogy of the Oppressed  Penguin 2012

Susan Di Graciano Can there be a cultural epidemiology? Medical Anthropology Quarterly 13 41 1999

Steven Johns The Ghost map  Penguin 2007

Naomi Klein The shock doctrine  Penguin 2014

Julia Kristeva  Strangers to ourselves  Columbia University Press 1991

Bruno Latour Science in action: how to follow scientists and engineers through society Harvard UP 1987

Bruno Latour   Reassembling the Social Oxford UP 2007

Thomas Mann  Death in Venice Penguin 2007

John Pickles A History of spaces: cartographic reason, mapping and the geocoded world Routledge 2004

Thomas Piketty Capital and Ideology Harvard UP 2020

Guy Rosolato La Relation D ’Inconnu  Gallimard 1978

Philip Roth Nemesis  Penguin 2011

Michel Serres The Parasite Minnesota University Press 2007

Elaine Showalter Hystories: hysterical epidemics and modern culture Columbia University Press 1997

Rebecca Solnit  A Paradise built in Hell Penguin 2016

Susan Sontag Illness as metaphor Frarah,Strauss and Giroux 1978

James Thurber  ‘The Day the Damn Broke’ in My Life and Hard Times  Penguin 1998

James Trostl  Epidemiology and culture Cambridge University Press 2005

Sherry Turkle  Alone  Together: why we expect more from technology than from each other Basic Books 2011

S.D. Wallis   ‘Disease mapping: a historical perspective’ chapter  in Elliott et al

Slavov Zizek Pandemic OR books 2020

Shoshana Zuboff The age of surveillance capitalism Profile Books 2019