Seven changes to brace for after the Corona virus crisis
By Delia Dumitrica, Aleid Fokkema, Anne-Mette Hermans, Amanda Paz Alencar, Teresa de la Hera, Radhika Mittal, and Mélodine Sommier
As the Covid-19 health crisis is turning our lives upside down, we find ourselves at the brink of social change. Isolation replaces mobility, re-arranging social norms and values. While many of the worldwide measures to contain the spread of the virus are temporary, they will have a long-lasting impact on social life.
Is it possible to peer into the looking glass at a time like this? Informed by personal and professional experiences, seven media and communication scholars based at Erasmus University Rotterdam offer their predictions on the social transformations to come.
The predictions cover social inequalities (Mélodine Sommier), health surveillance (Aleid Fokkema), sustainability narratives (Radhika Mittal), transnational families (Amanda Paz Alencar) online education (Teresa de la Hera and Anne-Mette Hermans), and faith in technology (Delia Dumitrica).
While raising the alarm on what could come, the authors also hope such transformations will meet with critical reflection and resistance.
Breaking free or locking the system down: Polarized times ahead
Everyone is quarantined, no one is immune. And yet, with drastic measures taken by governments around the planet, dire injustices appear. Covid-19 is making the system crumble, its usually covert flaws suddenly gaping. Worldwide the same rallying cry: our main weapon is to stay home. But not all soldiers can afford to do so.
Although these months of lock-down have never been seen before, cards are far from being redistributed. On the contrary, privileges are maintained and inequalities strengthened. The wealthy and powerful can stay home, keep their jobs, survive the psychological battle of the lock-down. They are those who can afford to be tested or have the means to escape to the countryside.On the other end are people whose precarious jobs offer no security nets or for whom quarantine means more domestic violence. The wealthy stay safe; others are in the cross-fire.
As always during crises, we long for heroes who will make the sacrifices we wish we could make but are relieved not to. These heroes are heralded on social media: nurses, doctors, supermarket cashiers, truck drivers. All of a sudden, they become the glue that keeps society together. Yet, not long ago, they were mere cogs in the machine, not profitable enough.
What happens during these months may become a stepping-stone for deeper structural changes correcting the excesses of neoliberal capitalism and economic globalization. Our societies could rise from the ashes. But there are also solid reasons to fear that this crisis will only exacerbate privatization and individualization trends, heightening inequalities and annihilating any hope of addressing the climate emergency in time.
Catching glimpses of what a slower and less consumption-driven world could look like will make some hungry for more change. Others will fight hard to bring the old ways back. Both positions are set to become stronger as the crisis continues to unfold. The aftermath, I fear, will only become more polarized.
Privacy or health: the new acceptability of health surveillance
With the sudden, steep rise in Covid-19 cases, moral questions of healthcare quickly gave way to the almost practical matter of containment. The bellicose language of the ‘battle’ against corona with its ‘frontline’ of health workers is paired with the business-like approach of ‘managing’ the health care system and ramping up the ‘manufacture’ of ventilating machines or procuring sufficient ‘supplies’ of protective gear. In a post-Covid-19 society the logic of management will continue to obscure moral issues. Invasive health surveillance will be one of its pillars: health and location tracking will become the accepted norm to safeguard free movement and economic prosperity.
There are about three factors that facilitate this easy acceptance: habit, the bandwagon effect, and pragmatism. Habit, in that sharing health data with commercial companies such as Google and Apple has become common practice. The digitization of health is unstoppable in non-commercial organizations too. Think, for example, of the remote monitoring of out-patients or the elderly. This ‘sharing’ of data attributes agency to giving up on privacy, but privacy is probably a rather abstract value compared to health. The reasoning seems to be that if biometric surveillance is the instrument to maintain or achieve good health, then so be it.
Second, smartphone surveillance in the name of battling the pandemic is becoming adopted in an increasing number of countries since it looks to have been successful in for instance Taiwan or South Korea. Pairing a significant slowdown in virus spread with keeping schools, restaurants, and businesses open and running looks rather attractive. Whether it is anonymized location data, QR codes with information on infection history of oneself and of anyone else, or innocent Covid-19 apps: the smartphone is the gateway to ‘under-the-skin’ surveillance.
This surveillance is here to stay for pragmatic and utilitarian considerations. Given the option of freedom of movement and an open, functioning society with live cultural events and real physical interaction, how will health surveillance and health tracking not be accepted? Oh, there might be restrictions, but only a few would be affected. Temporarily isolating those few for the sake of a flourishing society for the many will seem like a small price to pay. The real price to pay, however, will be biometric and location surveillance for all and for purposes that reach well beyond curbing the current pandemic.
When nature unleashes: will we learn to strike a balance?
I watched from my high-rise window as a lone albatross indulged in somersaults above sun-speckled river waters. It was soon joined by a couple more. Once an occasional sighting, the birds are now far more frequent and visible. Barely a week into the Covid-19 ‘work-from-home’ restrictions and the sky was clearer, the birds were merrier. Was it just the anvil of spring? A quick check on nature news around the world confirmed my suspicions. Wildlife is returning to the city. Air pollution levels have dropped. Greenhouse gas emissions have fallen, notably over the most severely affected countries.
News of nature’s regenerative mechanisms offers hope and comfort. It’s a reminder and affirmation of life and survival during bleak times. But there are also stories of despair, pointing clearly to human interference and the harsh appropriation of other species and life-forms to feed our desires, both carnal and economic. In an interesting interplay of narratives, the primordial story of nature’s wrath, unleashed by a tiny, non-living molecular agent, foregrounds the delicate balance between human activity and natural resistance.
Covid-19 allows for a somewhat bewildered reality check. Perhaps we really have been the problem all along! Optimists are quick to anticipate a post-contagion cascade effect in how we view sustainability and climate action. Pessimists are bracing for a return to normal and a spike in production scenarios. The unfolding consequence is likely to tow the middle line from a policy perspective. Restrictions on resource management, particularly wildlife, could become stricter. Adherence to sanitation standards may become the new norm. Yet, strong measures to protect forests, animals and other natural reserves will still be missing. And, while everyday city life might be punctuated by some work from home days to reduce transport emissions, airline travel might spike as people rush to celebrate their ‘freedom’.
As a common global experience, Covid-19 is likely to stay with us as a reminder that the tables can be turned at any time. It could instigate some regard, even distance, where the natural environment is concerned. Here and there, minor personal shifts favoring sustainability will turn into habits for some. But the real question remains: will the aftermath of the crisis create the opportunity for a real and systemic change in our relation to nature?
Transnational families: the strain of growing further apart
Whenever there is a crisis, connecting with our family and friends is important. We need to reach out, to interact, to touch and express our feelings, especially when confronted with distress and fear. Although the WHO advice to maintain social distancing is the norm these days, the desire to remain connected with our loved ones does not fade away.
Over the past weeks, I came across several images of family reunion and social gatherings online. People are celebrating the fact they are not as remote as they thought. I believe (almost) everyone, now more than ever, is truly appreciative of these interactions! Digital mobility and social togetherness have increased in a context of physical immobility and social isolation.
Yet, this experience is not the same for all trans-national families. Internet access remains problematic in many parts of the world. Unequal access to resources, barriers to using visual and text messages for some (e.g., illiterate or visually impaired people), family pressures to financially support each other, as well as uneven power relations and discrimination continue to challenge the relationship between virtual intimacy and well-being. In fact, people often disconnect themselves from digital environments to avoid distress, as they are unable to negotiate family conflicts and differences in expectations from afar.
Technologies are by no means a panacea for managing transnational family relations during crises like Coronavirus. In fact, they can just as well become a catalyst to family separation. While social distancing might last for a while, the many forms of inequality among transnational families worldwide will remain. The result, I fear, may be even more physical and virtual distancing.
More demand for online education: at what cost for faculty workload?
Closing down schools and universities has been among the first measures that many countries have taken to tackle Covid-19. As a result, many of these institutions turned towards offering their education programs online. In a clear demonstration of resilience, instructors and other staff involved in this challenge, have been translating their classes to an online environment. After what is undoubtedly the biggest online teaching experiment in history, we can expect an increasing offer and demand for online education. This will be motivated by two main reasons: first, institutions will want to capitalize on the investment made during the crisis; second, students will request what they now know we can provide.
For many of us, the transition to online teaching was done in less than 24 hours. Under time pressure, we adapted and self-trained to use new digital tools. This transition, however, has required much more than the creativity and commitment of the staff. Institutions themselves committed extra financial investment at a time when the future of their educational programs, at least for the coming academic year, is still unclear. This investment often went, among others, into acquiring new software licenses or boosting the ITC staff’s support capacity.
At the same time, unprecedented numbers of students are getting a first-hand experience of receiving an online education. They are not only experiencing the pros and the cons of online education, but also testing the extent to which their institutions are able to provide solutions customized to their individual circumstances.
An increasing offer and demand of online education could mean, on the one hand, a diversification of the educational opportunities, as well as alternatives for those unable to access ‘traditional’ education programs. On the other hand, this will increase the workload of a group of employees already under enormous pressure. Furthermore, the expectation of quick diversification of skills will become a norm. If we want to take the best out of this unprecedented experiment, let’s not forget about the needs of the individuals who are making this happen! The lecturers that attend to this growing offer and demand, should at least get adequate training that help them offer high quality online education, as well as professional recognition for the time and effort invested in their new tasks.
Short-lived recognition for public higher education
When I started writing this, I wanted it to be hopeful — a positive note in uncertain times. Yet, when considering the impact COVID-19 may have on education — particularly its reputation and funding — I realised that it is necessary to be critical.
For decades, the education sector has suffered due to dwindling budgets. Moreover, the reputation of, and respect for, public education and teachers at all levels has plummeted (cross-cultural differences aside). However, since the COVID-19 outbreak reached Europe, working in education now means that my colleagues and I are considered ‘key workers’ in a ‘crucial’ sector. Could it be that this undeniably dreadful pandemic has a silver lining for those in education? Could this crisis create far-reaching and long-lasting respect for the public sector? Moreover, is it unethical to use this momentum to our advantage?
The idealist in me reassures me that this renewed interest in, and praise for, education will be maintained, and that people may realise the need for a sustained increase in funding for education. However, the realist in me knows that this will not happen because educators are generally not sufficiently ‘mercenary’. This moment may have been a perfect opportunity to strike; to call attention to our already high workloads and to say, ‘we cannot provide more’. However, we don’t do this because we care too much and do not want our students to suffer. Moreover, so many in the public sector are in the same boat — overworked and relatively underpaid. No, at the risk of sounding essentialist, I think it is more likely that, once the epidemic has abated, we will receive a big pat on the back, and we will go back to high workloads and insecure contracts — but we love what we do, and those in power know it.
Technological determinism strikes back
Delia Dumitrica
The official tele-working request from my employer came, somewhat unceremoniously, by email on a Thursday evening. By Friday, everyone was busy moving everything online. From home, I watched as my favorite shops and restaurants were also hurrying to digitize their services. These days, if you are not online, you’re out of the game. More than ever before, we are prompted to imagine digital technologies as an inevitable force able to make or break us.
The new rhythms of our increasingly digitized daily lives sediment our conviction that only technology can keep us afloat. “What if this had happened in 2005?”, the BBC asked a few days ago. The implied answer was, of course, that we would have been doomed. The question had already crossed our minds. How would we have survived without our smartphones and high-speed internet? In the context of social distancing, the possibility of survival without networked technologies has become unfathomable. Not for all, but for those of us privileged enough to take the digitization of our lives to the next level.
If we were not already in awe at the marvel of technological development, this crisis will cement not only our reverence to it, but also the belief that our very survival depends on it. Today, more than ever, our daily routines leave us no option but to conclude that without digital technologies, the world would come to an abrupt — read, economically catastrophic — end. With renewed enthusiasm, we internalize the technological imperative: jump on the bandwagon of technological progress or perish!
For those of us raising the alarm on the dangers of technological determinism, this is bad news. Our efforts to unveil the social norms and values within technologies will be more easily dismissed as academic jibber-jabber. On the other hand, we witness first-hand the mundane practices through which beliefs sediment into ‘common sense’. We have to challenge ourselves and those around us into paying attention to the social actors and practices accelerating this sedimentation. We may not be able to stop technological determinism. Yet, we can still ask: what or who steers us towards making digital technologies indispensable to the way we live our lives?
