Cataclysmic events tend to reshape humanity’s perspective of existence. The most profound nihilistic philosophies have emerged from the crucible of the World Wars, and from their bleak aftermath arose the most absurd creations in literature, theater, and film. This is because sarcasm has always been an extreme, yet potent, conduit for expressing suffering. It seems there’s no other path left for mankind to tread life’s journey, once its brutal aspects have been exposed, except this path, marked by a profound fracture in its very essence.
Deadly epidemics like the plague and cholera, amongst countless others, have not only acted as the grim reapers of human lives, but also served as relentless reminders of our human insignificance and limitations. They hark back to the dawn of our human journey, a journey that appears to have slipped from collective memory.
Over the ages, humanity has operated as the single ruling entity of this planet, and it’s safe to say, not a benevolent one at that. This can be substantiated particularly in the light of recent decades. The ruler, who was once in search of a cave to shield him from the elements and predators, now has his future generations detonating mountains, incinerating entire forests, and wiping out species to make fashion accessories and garments. Then, begins his feverish pursuit of the moon. This same man, who would quiver at the sight of lightning or the sound of thunder, at anything unknown and frightening, to the extent of creating myths to allay his fears, now contributes to the ever-growing ring of space debris, discarding obsolete satellites into orbit.
But nature operates on a balance of such intricate complexity, akin to a massive, convoluted equation. If you kill a bird in one place, a worm thrives elsewhere. By setting a species of tree ablaze, you rob an entire species of animals of their natural habitat, pushing them towards extinction. In recent times, it’s become a human pastime, or more fittingly, the aftermath of human avarice, to incessantly disturb this equilibrium. However, mother nature too has her own methods of ceaselessly striving to fix the disruption. It often appears like vengeance or wrath, and while this is essentially a metaphor, it casts a shadow of doubt on whether this ‘retaliation’ is not sentient and deliberately executed. It would seem that earthquakes, volcanoes, cyclones, and floods are no longer the sole tools for restoring order, we now have the era of the virus!
This vivid poetic reflection on nature’s reaction brings us back to the essence of early mankind, who sought shelter to hide from the formidable, predatory animals of the night. As history has turned its wheel, we find ourselves returning to that metaphorical cave in the twenty-first century. Just as those primitive caves evolved into homes equipped with entertainment and security systems, our fears have shifted from predatory animals to microscopic threats. Today, as we bear witness to an uncertain decline, the world, in spite of all its deep-seated resentments, moves as a single entity, pulsating with a collective concern. This mirrors the awe of early humans facing the diverse forces of the world, realizing that survival lies not in confrontation, but in understanding and integrating with the world’s rhythm.
The pandemic has deeply affected our reality, causing it to flow like a river of blood before clotting once more. However, those who witnessed its fluidity and experienced its transient nature find it hard to envision it solidifying again. The common perception of reality remains steadfast among most people, rarely wavering. Yet, this unprecedented crack, caused by the microscopic virus, presents us with a unique opportunity – a chance, perhaps for the first time, to reassess our fundamental beliefs about life. What truly holds significance? What distinguishes genuine experiences from superficial ones? To what extent have our lives been filled with triviality and emptiness?
In the initial part of his book “Simulacra and Simulation,” Baudrillard discusses the concept of a fabricated reality. He shares an allegorical tale which we can adapt here. The French philosopher narrates about a governor who assembled his assistants and tasked them with creating an elaborate city map. Rather than making this map in the conventional size, they were instructed to design it in dimensions that perfectly mirrored the real city. Thus, they ended up illustrating a vast landscape of palaces, gardens, markets, and public squares. When this map was finally unfurled, it presented us with dual realities: the tangible reality (if there’s any significance to the term “real” post the amalgamation of realities) and the constructed reality. Baudrillard delves deeper into his example and imagines decades passing by. Over time, the map starts to deteriorate; some parts get torn, others decay, while some remain unchanged. Eventually, the distinction between the map and the land, the real and the artificial reality, becomes indistinguishable. This gives rise to a new blended reality where the boundaries between natural and artificial become blurred, making it challenging, if not impossible, to differentiate between the two. Many have been introduced to Baudrillard’s philosophies through the movie, “The Matrix.” The Wachowski brothers, creators of the film, don’t shy away from acknowledging Baudrillard’s influence on their work. Even though there are speculations about Baudrillard not being entirely pleased with the film, it did manage to portray his idea of the disintegration of reality and the diminishing gap between the real and the artificial. In the film’s climactic moment, the protagonist can see the Matrix directly, without any synthetic barriers. Amidst the pandemic and during the times of total lockdown, some might have felt a sense of déjà vu, as if they were experiencing a similar revealing moment, wherein reality as we know it is on the verge of collapsing. But then, one wonders if it’s just an illusion, or have we merely re-entered the realm of illusion where, as the saying goes, “people are asleep, and when they die, they wake up.”
I began pondering these notions at the height of isolation, during what I refer to as “the dream state.” The pandemic, although lacking awareness, set events in motion that made many feel like they were playing the lead in their own movie, moving according to a meticulously written script. It felt as if the entire world was caught up in this dream state, or that people were so self-absorbed that they postponed their conflicts with others until after dealing with the new common threat. But this dream state didn’t persist, nor did humans, who are faced with a vast array of shared threats: global warming, pollution, plastic, environmental imbalance, water, and food crises, and finally, viruses that are predicted to regularly visit us for the remainder of our lives. Nevertheless, it seems that humans, whose hospitals and graveyards continue to see a steady stream of pandemic victims, can’t find a more fitting enemy in this list or elsewhere other than themselves in their fight against nature, which is worn out from our relentless attempts to tame and conquer it completely.
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