Corona and the Geographical Paradox
Four Temporal Snapshots from Central Asia
#1 GEOECONOMIC TIME ZONES (March 16)
As we are cutting through the snow-covered mountains of the Naryn Oblast in in mid-March with a rusty silver Japanese car, a Kyrgyz love ballad is followed by “Po Restoranam” and “Cherniy Bumer”, playing on FM 88.2. In my wildest dreams I could not have imagined my life like this — while the world, and particularly my native Germany — is held in the grip of the COVID-19 pandemic, I am floating at breath-taking speed through steep gorges, along frozen river banks, passing by old circus wagon like trailers, painted in light blue and refunctioned as dwellings, make-shift mosques made of old cargo containers and herds of cattle.
“In times of global travel a virus can travel across 12,040 km (New York — Wuhan) faster than 191 km (NarynsKaxgar).”
*
The way in which the virus spreads from the Chinese city of Wuhan towards Europe, literally skipping the countries in its immediate neighborhood in Central Asia, confronts us with how outdated our spatial idea of the world is — today Berlin, Milan and New York are closer to Bejiing and Wuhan than Naryn is to Kaxgar located in the west of China’s Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region. In times of global travel a virus can travel across 12,040 km (New York — Wuhan) faster than 191 km (Naryn-Kaxgar). Not the physical-geographical distance but the level of economic activities construe the actual distance between two sites on this globe.
Still 214km away from Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan (during the Soviet period better known as Kirghizia) in Central Asia, my eyes submerge in the turquoise of a water basin encircled by the faded brown of monolithic mountain formations tipped with snow peaks and checkered with black and white sheep. One could not but feel the utter irrelevance of one’s own transitional existence and it’s petty problems, as the mountains powerfully echoed a Turkish proverb, whose true meaning only revealed itself to me in this very moment: “the rabbit shouted at the mountain, the mountain responded with silent indifference” (tavşan dağa haykırdı, dağ aldırmadı).
Transcending my own experience, it has been a while since humanity has stood like a helpless, terrified rabbit in front of the unfathomable forces of nature. Somehow the situation is reminiscent of the novel A Billion Years Before the End of the World (За миллиард лет до конца света) written by the renowned Soviet-era science-fiction authors, the Strugatsky Brothers: in the novel first published in 1974, a scientist that comes close to deciphering the hidden laws of the universe encounters a number of inexplicable events in his personal life which mysteriously thwart his efforts to do so.
At the end of the half-satirical novel it is revealed that it was in fact nature itself — which did not want to be revealed by man — that caused conspired against the scientist seeking to decipher its foundational laws. Indeed, it seems as if the current situation might instil in humanity again a greater sense of humility vis-à-vis the big other — nature. Moreover, beyond the smokescreen of hysteric projections of an approaching Armageddon, it seems as if the pandemic might also create yet unprecedented opportunities — a unique site of experimentation for new forms of social life: France waives the rents of tenants, a series of companies, cultural as well as scientific institutions provide free access to digital content and, last but not least, porn sites offer free premium service to residents of Italy. A scenario fully unimaginable in 2019.
“ We might build memorials to COVID-19 as the first serious step towards saving the fragile ecology of our planet.”
*
From a leftist perspective, the current situation appears like a perfect tautology — being utopia and dystopia alike. And if indeed, also more sustainable societal changes seem to appear at the horizon. As economic sectors around the globe move from office to home office, we are likewise witnessing a significant decrease in commuting transport and air travel, resulting in a drastic cut in emissions as well as reduction in pollution. Other tendencies indicate, that as more and more country borders turn into hermetically sealed gates, we might as well witness — albeit on a far more modest level — a cautious turn back to more self-sufficient forms of production. Still it proves difficult to say, what of those initiatives and emergency measures might actually trigger more sustainable changes. Yet, the question persists: what if once the corona wave has ebbed away humanity realizes that it does actually better that way? Maybe then we might build memorials to COVID-19 as the first serious step towards saving the fragile ecology of our planet.
#2 THE CLAMOUR BEFORE THE STORM (March 17)
Back in Bishkek, the general silence before the storm intermingles with sporadic voices of panic. As I contact the house owner of an Airbnb I had stayed previously to inquire about conditions for staying for a whole month — he bluntly replies with the words “the punishment is 1500€ if we walk in the streets” (Штраф 1500 евро,если выйдем на улицу погулять), directly assuming I had violated against quarantine regulations in place for foreigners arriving in Kyrgyzstan since Friday — as a matter of fact I had arrived a week prior to this regulation. Yet, given the current mood of general paranoia it seems still best for me to cut my presence in the streets to a minimum in order to avoid running into police officers — either obedient civil servants eager to enforce the law or crisis-profiteers seeking to benefit personally from the crisis.
#3 EXPECTED ARRIVALS (March 18)
Today the state of suspense is over. Now the first cases of the corona virus were officially confirmed in Kyrgyzstan. Not as anticipated in the capital of Bishkek, and neither transmitted by travellers from Europe or China — particularly with regard to the latter a deep-rooted xenophobia against the Chinese neighbour had sparked a series of anti-Chinese protests in the past and nourished conspiracy theories that depicted the virus as a political instrument in the hand of Chinese political leaders “to conquer the world”. Instead, the first cases were confirmed among Kyrgyz pilgrims who had returned back from the Umrah in Saudi Arabia. It is unclear, whether the state knew about the infections some time before as concerted efforts are already on the way to track down all contact persons. The following days are thus anticipated to radically alter the public life here in Bishkek — as it did in my place of residence Berlin roughly a week ago. Until today, the pandemic had rather an opposite effect — it seemed the streets were buzzling with pedestrians, cafes crowded with people as if everyone knew this fragile state of lagging behind the current global trend was not to last for long.
4# DECEPTIVE DISTANCES (March 29)
One week has already passed since the entire lock-down of the city. Road blockades are installed at all intercity highways leading to the city while for those living within it daily life has changed significantly. Aside from a night curfew which is strictly enforced by authorities leading to the temporary detainment of hundreds of violators every night, moving within the city during the day is now only possible with so called “marshrutnie listi”, that is itineraries which indicated name, reason for leaving home, place of residence and place of destination: only purchase of daily goods, appointments at the doctor and visits to pharmacies are permitted. Thus in order to have a daily walk one needs to show some imagination connecting different “permitted destinations” together. Unfortunately, being located at the very heart of the city most pharmacies and supermarkets are just a couple of steps away — however, specific bank offices, which also qualify as “permitted destinations” are at least 1–2 kms away which allow you to wander through largely deserted city streets and, most importantly, Erkindik Boulevard in early spring bloom. Judging by the behaviour of fellow-residents it is difficult to estimate how strict the lock-down is enforced — while the mere quantity of pedestrians and cars has diminished significantly you may still be able to spot here and there a guy in an orange shirt jogging down Erkendik Prospekti (Boulevard of Independence), a mother with children doing work-out at open-air sport gears, a couple of men standing around a car in need of repair or a couple of connoisseurs of good coffee populating the emptied terrace of one of the few operating coffee places — of course only to go.
“While the city had ranked as one of the most air-polluted cities of the entire globe just a couple of months ago, now for the first time since possibly the 90s the air is again fragrant of the fresh and cold breeze of the Tian Shan mountains that are towering at the horizon of Kyrgyzstan’s capital.”
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Particularly entering the coffee place down Moskovskaya felt quite odd — in a city that resembled pretty much a ghost town with deserted main boulevards and squares, closed shopping malls and policemen patrolling down the street, the smell of hot coffee appeared to me like the faint remainder of a recent past that seems now like ages ago — and even though I did not exchange any words with them, I immediately felt a certain closeness with the few customers surrounding the place — as if they and us had been the only left from the “time-before”, the last witnesses to remember the old world, that is the world before disaster struck. Still day-to-day reality oscillates between dystopian angst and utopian reverie. While walking down the streets of Bishkek, one inevitably notices a significant improvement in air quality — while the city had ranked as one of the most air-polluted cities of the entire globe just a couple of months ago, now for the first time since possibly the 90s the air is again fragrant of the fresh and cold breeze of the Tian Shan mountains that are towering at the horizon of Kyrgyzstan’s capital.
Just months ago at the height of the “air crisis” it had been indeed easier to imagine the end of the city than an end to the pollution created. As an increased number of cyclists on the sidewalk are increasingly making their way through occasional pedestrians one cannot help but wonder whether we are not living the prefigured image of a yet unborn and more hope-inspiring future. Also, given the fact that aside of non-essential (yet, certainly, pleasant) forms of consumption, all vital services in the city resume their work one may pose the question how much of the daily commuting traffic was indeed essential to the fulfilment of society’s socio-economic needs. It seems the current situation provides crucial lessons to all of us which ought not be forgotten once we will go back to the — in some sense not less dystopian — old normal.
In the meantime, the virus continues to spread across different areas of the country. Since today also the first case of corona infection has been confirmed in Naryn, the mountain town close to the Kyrgyz-Chinese border I had left almost exactly two weeks ago. Some of the staff members of an international university built in the solitude of the mountains have chosen to stay there. I can only speculate for their reasons, particularly with regard to those who forewent the chance to reunite with their families abroad when the time window was still open.
“If we are to think of world economy as a living organism then its blood — both goods and human capital — will flow through its asphalted and chromed veins in even the most remote corners of its body.”
*
Maybe they might have hoped that the virus would not reach them in the secluded area of the Naryn Oblast. Yet, in times as global as the ones we are living the very notion of distance has turned into a deceptive mirage. If we are to think of world economy as a living organism then its blood — both goods and human capital — will flow through its asphalted and chromed veins in even the most remote corners of its body. Ironically, those who would in the blink of an eye discard as completely utopian the attempt of the Soviet Union to create a self-sufficient, hermetically sealed internal market within its vast geography, are now beginning to believe that an underdeveloped post-industrial small town in Central Asia could exist independently of the incessant flow of people and goods in a global capitalist economy.
