On February 22, 2020, sitting at a table in a café in the Lingotto district, I read the news of the first case of coronavirus detected in Turin. I couldn't have imagined that this would mark the beginning of a highly unusual year , in which masks would become an essential—and mandatory—accessory for everyone.

If, during the first months of the health emergency, it was fear, despair, and disorientation that occupied my mind, almost a year after the start of the pandemic, these feelings have given way to reflections and criticisms, more or less rational and precise, on the events that occurred, their meaning, and their consequences.

Index

Viruses in history

There are certain moments on the timeline that have marked human history, for better or for worse: years of sudden temperature drops, years of famine, of epidemics that decimated entire populations , of wars, but also years of revolutions, demonstrations and movements, of great discoveries and inventions. The current pandemic, therefore, could be just another among many "great events" of the past—as well as the future—and it may not linger in the collective memory as long as we think.

Moreover, the Spanish flu epidemic itself did not leave as heavy a legacy in historical memory as did war conflicts: few of us remember 1918 as the year the Spanish flu began, while almost everyone associates it with the end of the First World War.

The paradox of globalization in the time of Coronavirus
The paradox of communication in the time of coronavirus

Perhaps the tendency to believe that human reason is infallible, if applied tenaciously, and must always triumph, means that little remains of a virus in the collective memory (Coetzee, 2007). Yet , ignoring the significance of this event and failing to seize the opportunity to delve into the fractures it has created, and abandoning its food for thought, would be, in my opinion, equally simplistic and superficial, as considering the arrival of the virus as the greatest event in human history.

Let's assume, then, that we view the pandemic story as a third-person narrative. The first difficulty immediately arises: identifying the protagonist; we humans, in fact, seem more like secondary characters: isn't the virus the true protagonist , the character around which the entire story is built, the one that influences our decisions and actions? Then, as in any narrative, the plot unfolds in three parts: initial situation, development, and conclusion.

Initial situation: how we were

Defined as "liquid postmodernity" by sociologist Bauman, before the pandemic, ours was a society in which everything was conditioned by the economy, where consumerism did not satisfy the need for well-being but was merely an end in itself, where everything was a commodity. A society in which, with the rise of technology, humans lost their central role as producers to become consumers devoid of autonomy and judgment, ashamed of themselves in the face of the perfection of machines (Anders 2007a, p. 57).

And many scholars, going further, are already theorizing a new state of society, a gaseous one: social relationships, values, and ideologies are disappearing, giving way to isolation, uncertainty, and misinformation; a neocapitalism at the service of technology that vaporizes every human component.

A digital revolution from which neither humans nor nature emerge victorious. A transition that occurs, as Jullien would say, silently (Jullien 2010, p. 22); a change that occurs automatically, without warning, without raising any alarm, imposing its outcome only at the end.

Development: the shipwreck as salvation

The virus—and all the measures taken to contain it—is therefore not triggering a process of change, but of acceleration. As Anders would say, we see without actually seeing, we perceive without actually being there: the mass audience, which previously gathered together (in cinemas, theaters, squares), sharing emotions, is experiencing a further emotional dulling, silently waiting for the world out there to enter their homes, to reveal itself through videos and images that can only be shared on digital platforms.

mask_covid_girl_virus

We are forced to lose the “freedom to feel the loss of our freedom” (Anders 2007b, p. 234), or, perhaps, it is our passion itself that does not aim at freedom, but rather at a state of tranquility (Donaggio, 2016).

With the arrival of the virus, I was forced to teach my grandmother how to use social media and video calls, to forgo going out with friends, to keep my distance from others, to buy online even things I'd never considered buying, to stroll through the unfamiliar streets of my neighborhood. I watched national and individual borders being redefined; I saw the concepts of public and private space being redefined; I observed many of us becoming sentinels, attentive to every single movement of people, on the streets as well as in neighbors' apartments.

Power and management of the virus pandemic

Reflection on the concept of power was then natural; the profound difference between the country we live in and a state like China—or Korea, or Japan—is evident, where the pandemic is managed through the continuous exchange of strictly personal data that makes it possible to track and isolate infected or potentially infected individuals. So, who is sovereign today, who owns the data? Equally interesting is the reflection on forms of engagement.

After all , the pandemic is an event from which no one can escape. As Blumenberg writes, "danger can be escaped in two ways: either by avoiding it, by staying away from it, or, if that proves impossible, by returning as quickly as possible from the place of insecurity to that of safety, establishing symbolic points of protection within a treacherous and hostile environment."

And so it seems that home itself becomes that point of protection, at least until it becomes clear that no truly safe place exists anymore. Blumenberg speaks of the "collapse of the difference between land and sea": none of us can be mere spectators anymore, but we are all forced to become actors, to get involved, to risk shipwreck, because "it is the earth itself that falters and opens its abysses" (Blumenberg, 2001).

A change of habits: coexisting with the virus

Both the actions—or inactions—of those who view the limitation of autonomy as an individual choice for society's survival, and those who conceive of the lockdown as an imposition of authority that dictates what society can and cannot do, have consequences. We all participate, in some way, in these events. Of course, everyone responds differently : some feel superior to the virus, some think it's all a conspiracy, and some scrupulously follow the rules, sometimes obsessively.

protections_masks_covid_virus

But the arrival of the pandemic has changed everyone's habits and challenged our worldview, in one way or another. Therefore, we can define the Covid epidemic as a trauma, meaning a sudden upheaval, a very strong, intense emotion that changes the course of our lives; as an apocalypse, a revelation, a revelation; as a crisis, characterized by a limited duration. The terminology that can be used is vast.

However, if we also want to seize this sudden change in our lives as an opportunity for a more radical change in everything that previously wasn't working well—as well as everything that was working well but wasn't progressing—a good understanding of past mistakes, an accurate definition of the current situation, and precise planning of future goals become essential.

Conclusion: where do we want to go?

"Restarting" has become the highest goal to aim for, a dream, a purpose. Yet, I believe that before embarking on a journey, we should at least have an idea of ​​where we want to go. And where do we want to go? The pandemic hasn't just caught us unprepared; it has also highlighted the fragility of our healthcare system, the instability of our government, the vulnerability of our economy. How enjoyable can a journey that starts here be?

So, perhaps the "nothing" we're forced to do can become something. Of course, we can't save lives if we're not doctors, and we can't make decisions about managing the pandemic if we're not politicians. But we can think. And thinking can become an extremely useful activity during this unique situation we find ourselves in, especially if many of us are thinking. And, in particular, we can rethink ourselves and our society, looking critically and, above all, constructively at what we're experiencing and what we experienced until the virus arrived, taking for granted and unchanged the functioning of a system that was leaking from all sides.

In this way, once the pain has been contained, the fear has been faced, and the anger has been calmed, we can combine our intellectual knowledge and our practical skills to transform them into the fuel needed for the famous restart we all long for.

Of course, I'm aware that individual and collective reflections of this kind aren't easy or immediate. However , each of us has something to share , a useful tool: a propensity for change, enthusiasm, a need for redemption, impulsiveness, rationality, passion, love for one's country, a critical sense, a need for redemption. Everyone can be a "thinking piece" of this new, great revolution.

Thinking of a different future… coexisting with viruses

To invent a future different from the dark scenarios that loom, and from which we all try to distance ourselves, something must inevitably change.

Coronavirus tells of a new world

We must understand the interdependence between human health and nature conservation, stop working against the environment for short-term gain, and instead value the human-nature relationship more deeply. We must understand the strain on the healthcare system, which has been underfunded and undervalued for years. We must reflect on the importance of human relationships, sharing, and a sense of community in an increasingly individualistic world. We must seize opportunities . We must reflect on our reactions to the deprivation of freedom, a freedom we have always taken for granted, but which has never been so obvious to so many others. We must consider the evidence of our human nature in the face of technological invasion. We must question who we are and what we do, acting as thoughtful individuals and active citizens. We must analyze the indifference of students and teachers, as well as the silence of universities and political institutions, on one of the foundational issues of every good society: education.

Not only that, it is also necessary to consult the generation that will have to pay the debt that is being incurred today.

We need to rethink public space

We also need to rethink public space , since the pandemic itself is creating a new lens through which to view it (Honey-Rosés et al., 2020, p. 9). If "neoliberal economic policies have led to a surge in the privatization of public space, often ostensibly for 'public' use, but as places of consumption" ( ibid. ), the arrival of Covid-19 could be a good starting point for reconsidering individual spaces as elements of a network of public spaces with specific characteristics. These characteristics are not negligible, and are closely connected to the (potential) users of those spaces. This is therefore an opportunity to put an end to the commercial invasion and constant privatization of public space.

We must, therefore, learn from this experience. And perhaps it will be precisely the gap between our aspirations and desires for the future and the actual prospects we foresee that will give us the impetus we need to stop "doing nothing" to save the country and start "thinking something" to change it.

Giulia Candida

Bibliography

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