Indoor Anthropology: Chapter 2
Armchair anthropology in the time of coronavirus
On March 16, I have started a series of “auto-ethnographic stories” to reflect on the current situation in Slovenia and abroad: “During and after the quarantine, anthropology will have to adapt its approaches and put more attention to new forms of ethnography with fewer physical contacts.”
Quarantine Day 9: Toilet Paper against COVID-19
“I do not have a good explanation for this,” replied philosopher Slavoj Žižek when a journalist, Nataša Štefe, asked him in an interview for Val 202 radio station why people were obsessed with toilet paper during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Well, in this part of the otherwise excellent interview, Žižek actually got a great starting point to extend his conceptual framework from the book “The Plague of Fantasies,” in which he explained, from a psychoanalytic point of view, the “ideological” difference between toilets in different cultural environments and presented what kind of relationship people have with their increments.
The toilet with a “shelf” or the “traditional German toilet,” as Žižek named it, is intended to “lay and display”, i.e. sniff and inspect faeces for traces of illness; the “French toilet,” which is, in my opinion, the most popular type in Slovenia, is designed to eliminate the excrements as soon as possible from the field of view; the “Anglo-Saxon toilet,” however, represents a synthesis of “German” and “French”: the excretions fall directly into the water and can be thus seen, but cannot be analyzed in detail. At this point, Žižek could only add toilet paper — and the toilet story would be perfect.
But really, why have we become obsessed with toilet paper?
A quick explanation could be based on the famous work of anthropologist Mary Douglas, entitled “Purity and Danger,” which has resurged during the coronavirus pandemic. According to the author, people around the world perform various purification rituals to restore order in their lives. And what is the purchase of toilet paper other than the first stage of the rite which enables cleansing the body and removing dangerous impurities? If nothing else helps in the fight against the invisible threat, we can at least thoroughly and consistently wipe our rear end — and consequently be a bit calmer. (We discussed this over Skype with anthropologist Samwel Moses Ntapanta who sent me a great short analysis of the current obsession with toilet paper.)
I must admit that during my today’s visit to the store, I also succumbed to mass psychosis. I stuffed two packets of toilet paper into the cart (Paloma brand — made in Slovenia — since I decided to support our national industry in the time of crisis), then bought all-purpose cleaner, disinfecting wipes and washing powder, and grabbed the last box of rubber gloves that was still on the shelf.
I filled almost half of the shopping cart with cleaning supplies and immediately felt cleaner — perhaps because of the distinctive smell of fabric softener and washing powder in the surroundings, which I was able to smell even through the protective mask. Never before had this smell seemed so appealing to me.
When I pulled the shopping cart outside the shopping centre, I noticed a friend standing on the sidewalk. I greeted her from a secure distance, and she looked at me with a strange expression on her face; apparently, she did not recognise me because I was wearing the mask. She finally realised who I was and started laughing when she saw the fully packed cart. She said, “Well, well, you took this activity seriously!”
“Yes,” I muttered through the mask, feeling somewhat uncomfortable and exposed, so I tried to explain to her, half-jokingly, “You know, the toilet paper is a strong currency at the moment!” She giggled and nodded, and I told her I needed to move on, because — you know — hanging out is a thing of the past. “Let’s meet for coffee in June!” I shouted to her from afar, sweating heavily while pushing the loaded cart toward the car. And then I remembered, “Damn, I forgot to buy yeast!”*
Clarification for those from abroad: yeast has proven to be another object of desire in the time of shopping mania. However, yeast is obviously not globally popular but more attractive in the Slovenian cultural milieu.
#anthropology #ethnography #worldneedanthro #stayathome #workfromhome #fieldworkathome #covid19 #shortstory #coronavirus #experience #toiletpaper #cleanliness #purity #danger #virus
Quarantine Day 10: Techniques of the Body During the Pandemic
People, I am almost 45 years old, and only today I learned how to wash my hands properly!
Sara Arko, who remains being my wife even in quarantine, prepared a short training course for our family and first held a lecture about a short history of handwashing, starting with the work of Dr. Ignaz Semmelweis, who managed to force doctors to wash their hands before assisting to give birth, and ending with an interesting YouTube video about the proper technique of washing hands. In the video, we saw hands in white rubber gloves that initially had a tiny bit of black color only on palms. Then they rub one against another for a long time, wrapping palms around thumbs and finally putting the final touch of black paint also on wrists. It took about a minute and the hands were completely black, which clearly demonstrated that it takes quite long to wash them thoroughly with soap.
The theoretical lesson was quite entertaining. However, the practical part, carried out in the bathroom, wasn’t fun anymore. I crossed my soapy fingers several times, twisted them around my thumbs and wrists, scratched my palms… While doing so, I kept repeating as a mantra the best part of the song “Hygiene” by Strelnikoff and Marko Brecelj: “Hoyladree, toiletry, diarrhea, gonorrhea…” After a minute of washing my hands and simultaneous chanting, I was completely worn out.
While wiping hands, I started to seriously worry if this exhausting exercise could ever become a technique that I can perform unconsciously and automatically, not to suffer endlessly.
Nearly a century ago, an excellent text on techniques of the body was written by anthropologist and sociologist Marcel Mauss. In the essay, he described how, from an early age, parents, teachers, and peers teach people how to act and behave properly, until they begin to perform a certain technique automatically and unconsciously. In addition to theoretical explanations, Mauss presented some interesting and fun examples from his own youth.
He was taught, for example, to mimic a steamer while swimming by swallowing water and spitting it in the air. He added that he could not get rid of this habit even at an old age. The gym teacher in school taught him how to run “properly,” with his fists close to his chest — it was apparently a prevailing running style in France in the second half of the 19th century. It wasn’t until much later that Mauss realised that the technique was very impractical.
During the quarantine we might develop — in addition to properly washing hands — many other body techniques we have never known before: opening the door with our elbows, pushing a shopping cart with two fingers, taking off shoes without using hands…
In the time of the pandemic, new techniques are also created during fleeting and rare offline social interactions. Hugs, kisses and handshakes have been replaced by the Vulcan salute from Star Trek, which was practised by Mr. Spock, Science Officer at the Starship Enterprise. In the current situation, many people salute in Mr. Spock’s manner: from afar and with a serious expression on their face, by lifting the right hand (parting of fingers between the middle and ring finger is optional) and saying something similar to the famous greeting: “Live long and prosper!”
Will the current pandemic change the existing habits and practices? What will be the body techniques in the twenties of the 21st century that will be explored by anthropologists in the future? And what kind of etiquette will be established in the new situation?
Who knows. Undoubtedly, the present time is extremely interesting because we can follow the forming of new habits as they become part of us and society. If we were not sentenced to solitary confinement, this would be a paradise for anthropologists!
#anthropology #ethnography #worldneedsanthro #stayathome #workfromhome #covid19 #shortstory #coronavirus #experience #autoethnography #handwashing #startrek #body #techniques #hygiene
Quarantine Day 11: No Entry for People!
“A hoopoe is on the playground!” told me excitedly on the phone our neighbour, otherwise a professional biologist and skilled amateur ornithologist. Once more, all family members gathered in the kitchen and pulled the binoculars from each other’s hands. The more we looked, the less we saw. We also checked a bird guide that I still keep at home from my “birdwatching period” — years ago, I researched lifestyles of birdwatchers from an anthropological perspective. We took a look at what a hoopoe actually looks like, and then went on the only outdoor excursion of the day that turned into a “hunting expedition.”
When we left the house, we saw the neighbour who gave me the call, with his family. Our kids, who often hang out together, were just waving one to another from afar, and he and his partner gave us directions on where to find the hoopoe. We then went to the other side of the playground, which has been locked for several days, with a sign on the door explaining that entry is forbidden due to the epidemic. We came near to bars of the fence and with our naked eye we spotted two birds jumping on the grass. “Yeah,” I said knowingly, “this is a hoopoe!” I raised my binoculars to get a closer look at the bird: it had black feathers and a yellow beak. But where is the orange crest? And where are the zebra-striped wings?
The more I looked, the more it felt like something was wrong. “It’s a blackbird,” I muttered slightly disappointed, thinking that we had just missed a unique opportunity and that the hoopoe had already flown elsewhere. But then Sara jumped on the spot and pointed her finger toward the edge of the playground: “There it is, I can see it!” I looked through my binoculars… Indeed! An orange-brownish bird with a long and pointed beak was jumping on the sand near the football goal. I had never spotted it before. Somewhere behind us, a dog barked loudly, and I thought the hoopoe would be scared and flew away, but it didn’t even twitch, even though the dog kept barking. It used its beak to calmly dig through the sand, probably looking for bugs and worms. We all exchanged the binoculars and, with a little bit of voyeurism, we adored the feathered beauty while it was “bathing” in the sand.
In just five days, the school playground outside our house has completely changed.
Children are no longer playing there and adults no longer throwing the ball at the basket. Other living creatures began to occupy the empty space instead of humans — much like it is described in the popular science book “The World Without Us” by Alan Weisman, or with more imagination in the post-apocalyptic novels I enjoy reading while being stuck in the quarantine. In these fiction novels, isolated groups of people usually scramble through overgrown cities and across cracked roads, and dwell in buildings that are gradually falling apart. I find these kind of novels particularly exciting because they point out how fragile our existence is and, above all, our lifestyles. It is true that we have taken over the planet and conquered other living beings: humans account for 36% of the total mass of land mammals, 60 percent of the biomass by domesticated livestock, mainly cattle and pigs, and wild mammals for only 4 percent.
On the other hand, we can see at critical times how dependent we have become on the infrastructure we have built and the networks that keep us connected. These achievements have allowed us to travel quickly and transfer information rapidly while contributing — as anthropologist Thomas Hylland Eriksen says — to overheating of the world. We have become obsessed with exponential growth, Eriksen warned two decades ago in one of his early books, titled “Tyranny of the Moment.” Today, unfortunately, such growth seems to be our only collective goal and sometimes even the only possible way to move forward as a global community.
Does the COVID-19 pandemic provide an opportunity for us to stay still for a moment and reflect on our own future and possible new directions? Perhaps. However, the stop will definitely allow us to observe in peace those places and creatures that are in front of our nose, but we have ignored them while constantly being in a hurry.
#anthropology #ethnography #worldneedsanthro #stayathome #workfromhome #covid19 #shortstory #coronavirus #experience #autoethnography #birdwatching #playground #hoopoe #noentry
Quarantine Day 12: Life’s a Game
Today, our kids hung out with neighbours’ children… Remotely, of course! We connected them via Skype. At first, my wife Sara and I thought they would just chat for a while and get bored quickly, but instead, they came up with something completely unexpected which kept them engaged. “Daddy, can you give me the Catan?” asked Marko, the youngest one. I looked at him in amazement but didn’t say anything. I took the box with the board game from the shelf and handed it to him. All excited he went back to the room, jumping while walking.
“Dan,” Sara told me a quarter of an hour later, with a surprised expression on her face, “they are still playing the game!”
What? How? I walked into the children’s room and was amazed. They put the laptop on the floor and tilted the screen with the camera a bit forward so that the players on the “other side” could see the game board. “Where are you going to put this settlement?” Gregor asked curiously. “On the number five with the forest,” a voice from the computer said. “And where are you going to place the road?” “Turn it that way… No, the other way… Yes, that’s it!” “Well,” said one of our children, “now it’s my turn!”
Following the rule that you should not bother the lion while it’s sleeping, I naturally left the kids alone and thought that their interest in playing the game would soon disappear. How very wrong I was! They played the whole game that lasted almost an hour. Most of the time they had fun and only now and then they got really angry, as it is appropriate for the game.
It is interesting to observe how children, even in the annoying time of quarantine, manage to find time and space to play.
They keep creating “virtual places” that are not necessarily presented on the screen; instead, they are often designed only in their heads. In fact, gamification of everyday life is one of the best ways to make a miserable situation more bearable and to keep sanity even when things go in the wrong direction. A similar principle is wonderfully presented in the movie “Life is Beautiful” (Italian: “La vita è bella”), where the main protagonist, portrayed by actor Roberto Benigni, manages to gamify their life in a concentration camp and, despite the horrors, convinces his son that everything that happens to them is just a game in which whoever gets first to one thousand points will win a tank.
Jane McGonigal who dedicated her doctoral dissertation to gamification and wrote extensively about the topic in her books “Reality Is Broken” and “SuperBetter,” also recommends gamifying everyday activities — even the most mundane ones. The central message of her work is that we can make the most stressful situations more bearable through games and imagination; she tested the approach on herself and was able to overcome a severe concussion which immobilised her for some time by playing games. She turned every step into a tiny challenge, rewarded herself for the smallest progress, and even summoned “superheroes” to assist her now and then — even though they arrived only in her imagination.
Games are even better if they are played by more than one person at a time — just as the kids played Catan. Although they were competing with each other and getting angry at each other, they were actually establishing a new kind of intersubjective collaboration in which the real and virtual, digital and analogue worlds intertwined. The human capability to create new forms of cooperation is a secret that is unfortunately often forgotten because we tend to understand the world as a competition instead of perceiving it as a game. “We are used to thinking about competitions such as football or chess, in which there is only one winner,” political scientist Robert Axelrod explained in one of the best books of the 20th century, titled “The Evolution of Cooperation.” However, as his book explains, the real world is rarely like this.
“In a vast range of situations, mutual cooperation can be better for both sides than mutual defection. The key to doing well lies not in overcoming others, but in eliciting their cooperation,” Axelrod pointed out.
Therefore, let’s imagine for a moment that we are playing the biggest collaboration game of all time, called Pandemic. (By the way, such a board game actually exists!) In the game, we can all be winners, especially if we stick to the rules which should be collectively defined. However, if we turn the game into a competition for dominance, then we will be — there is almost no doubt — all losers.
OK, who’s the first to roll the dice?
#anthropology #ethnography #worldneedsanthro #stayathome #workfromhome #covid19 #shortstory #coronavirus #experience #autoethnography #boardgames #cooperation #competition #winner #loser #pandemic #catan
Author: Dan Podjed
applied anthropologist │ WWNA founder │ developer of planet-centred solutions
