Digging Into the Future

Will archaeologists and anthropologists in the year 2520 find evidence of the Covid-19 pandemic? The Tightly-Furled Umbrella ponders the possibilities…

I’ve always found archaeology fascinating, even though I’ve never taken part in a dig and have no qualifications. There was a time (let’s call it the Couchascene Period) where I could be found in front of the telly totally absorbed in Time Team. Trying to get me away from it would have been like trying to lift a complete Roman marble column out of the ground, so rooted to the spot was I.

Archaeological dig. Image: Wikimedia Commons

What I dig most about archaeology is the forensic detective work that goes with it – the analysis of items found, the layers in the ground, the comparison with what’s known historically of the area, the precision of carbon-dating and the eventual conclusions or suppositions about the finds. Modern-day archaeology has all the theatre of a crime drama, with clues unfolding gradually until a fuller picture emerges.

So you can imagine my excitement when I read recently about some ice core samples from the Swiss Alps (no seriously, stay with me...) that showed variations in medieval atmospheric lead pollution that can be linked to taxes, murders, wars and the rise and fall various kings in England between 1170 and 1219 C.E. Unlikely though it seems, the concentrations of lead (or absence of it) match the major historical events of the period almost exactly. Lead was a popular metal at the time, being used for all manner of things from church roofing, guttering and water pipes to stained glass windows and pottery glazing.

Murder of Thomas Becket (Image: Wikimedia Commons)

So, for example, when Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Becket was murdered in 1170 by supporters loyal to King Henry II – and the king was subsequently excommunicated – lead production plummeted because no new churches were being built. This drop is reflected in the Swiss ice cores, which show extremely low levels of the usual lead pollution that would have been carried by prevailing winds from the mining areas of England. Similarly, three years later there is a spike in lead pollution as production ramped up due to a war with Scotland. There’s plenty more evidence over the following 50 years or so, with a clear correlation to historical events.

So what will future archaeologists see of the Covid-19 pandemic? Will there be any residual evidence anywhere that would correlate with the virus and changes to human activity of the time? There’s likely to be a PhD in this subject soon, and many a book (maybe The Corona Legacy?) but with lockdown time on my hands I thought I’d try and second-guess what archaeologists from, say, 2520 might find.

No, not yet...

Firstly, drawing on the Swiss ice core story above, there will almost certainly be a noticeable drop in general pollution particles – the dramatic drop in vehicle usage, especially in the world’s major cities – will likely leave a legacy in the earth. But that’s providing climate change hasn’t wiped out all snowfall and ice coverage before then.

Manufacturing has been hit hard by the virus and lockdown, so certain industries aren’t operating as fully (if at all), therefore raw materials aren’t needed anywhere near as much as they were. This echoes the ups and downs of lead mining in medieval times, but what sort of footprint it will leave and where is anyone’s guess, and might depend on archaeological technology yet to be invented.

Social distance queuing at a supermarket

Archaeologists who dig down to an old supermarket car park in 2520 might be delighted to discover traces of yellow paint on ancient asphalt, indicating where customers 500 years previously stood while queuing for access during the virus. (Imagine archaeologists’ excitement to discover an almost-complete Tesco, with aisles, shelves and – as today – absolutely no evidence of flour, baking powder or pasta…)

Dendrochronologists – who study tree rings and their meanings – might have a harder time than those analysing ice cores, but there is perhaps a possibility that some of the world’s trees will record the impact of Covid-19 as a blip in growth. If for example the lack of atmospheric pollution increases available sunlight to plants and trees, it’s possible they will enjoy a growth spurt as a result. Or possibly not; I’m no expert.

Bubonic Plague spread, 14th Century
Image: Wikimedia Commons

There might of course be some social and economic legacies from Covid-19. For example, the term ‘quarantine’ began as trentino in the mid-14^th century in what’s now the city of Dubrovnik. It was a result of the Black Death, and imposed a period of 30-day isolation on ships arriving from plague-ridden lands. Later, in Venice, this period of isolation was extended to 40 days and was called quarantino, which is where we get the word quarantine.

Now we are all becoming familiar with terms like ‘self-isolation’ and ‘social distancing’. There will likely be some new phrases that arise from the pandemic and which might ingrain themselves in our dictionaries, and remain there for etymologists to marvel over half a millennium from now. ‘Covidiot’ – someone who deliberately ignores pandemic regulations – is one of them, while WFH (Working From Home) might well become an acronym that will endure.

That’s because working from home might eventually become the new norm if businesses and organisations globally recognise that productivity can be just as high with employees using their homes as their workplaces, with no need for corporate offices (paying massive rents) to be sited in inner-city locations. 

Yay! No commuting!

Maybe in 500 years' time anthropologists will (from their own homes naturally) convene globally via mind-melding technology to discuss the period in history when the concept of working from home crystallised into an accepted norm - the time of the pandemic known back then as 'Coronavirus'.

Maybe. Remains to be seen.

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Success in the Background

One of the things to come out of this whole virus lockdown thing is that everyone, even the media, has had to keep their distance. For television news this has meant interviewing politicians, academics and health professionals about the virus via the Internet, where viruses have a different meaning and (so far) can’t harm humans.

When the SARS outbreak occurred in 2003 such an option wasn’t available; Skype wasn’t first released until that year and the world (and the media) was yet to widely adopt video-calling technology. But today, even with the lockdown in place, the media can access anyone and everyone – experts and victims alike – at the press of a key. So far, so qwerty.

In normal circumstances experts and politicians would be invited into a studio for interviewing, or a reporter with camera operator would visit them at their workplace, but now the new norm is for the interviewees to talk to the journos via their own laptops. This means we as viewers are treated to sneak peeks of academics’ and other experts’ homes. Instead of a pristine studio backdrop, we get to glimpse the backgrounds of their everyday domesticity, and the scenery is varied to say the least, but a lot of what we see depends on how they’ve got their laptop set up.

Typically, many of those now working from home have their screen – and therefore its built-in camera – at a slight angle on their desk or worktable. This gives a very different image to that we’re used to of interviewees. Firstly, instead of being at eye level, now most of those interviewed appear to be looking down their noses at us, and, conversely we get an excellent view of their nostril hairs. More interestingly, behind them we can see some of their office/lounge/spare room ceiling and can admire their pelmets and light fittings.

But those whose screen tilt is more upright means we can take in more of the room – the furniture, drapes, mantelpiece, and – here’s what appears to be a common denominator among experts - their bookshelves. Many if not most of the specialists and academics interviewed during the pandemic have bookshelves in the background, often fitted, and filled choc-a-bloc with tomes which, infuriatingly, it’s usually impossible to read the titles of. I keep hoping to see a copy of ‘The Joy of Sex’ on a shelf behind a university vice-chancellor, or ‘The Andromeda Strain’ on the shelf of an NHS official.

But flippancy aside, the message I’m getting from this is that books and expertise, books and knowledge, books and authority, and perhaps most importantly, books and success go together. I’m not surprised by this – I’ve always held the belief that a household with books is a household of joy – but it’s nice to see it confirmed on screen via these people’s laptops, even if it is anecdotal.

It doesn’t automatically follow that success is wholly dependent on books filling your walls – the most successful kid in my fifth form went on to become a highly respected judge but he wouldn’t have a book in his house. He said he didn’t like ‘clutter’, and his house was bare; huge, but devoid of disorder. However, a sample of one is hardly conclusive evidence, and I put it to you ladies and gentlemen of the jury that his disdain of books reflected more a personal taste for clean lines and tidiness than anything else. But I could hardly rest my case on it.

Luckily, I don’t have to do extensive research to build an argument for books in the home – that’s already been done for me by many academics, including a trio of sociologists at the University of Nevada-Reno. In 2014 they published the findings of their research after analysing test scores from 42 different nations, which categorically showed a link between books in the home and academic success. The authors noted: ‘…the number of books in the family home exerts a strong influence on academic performance in ways consistent with the cognitive skill hypothesis, regardless of the nation's ideology, political history, or level of development.’

They acknowledged that some people theorise that the mere presence of books could skew gatekeepers’ markings and opinions towards the more positive end of the scale, but in their study they go on to demonstrate that books have a higher impact in less-advantaged home situations than those that could be described as elite.

The authors – Evans, Kelley and Sikora – note: ‘The gains are not equally great across the entire cultural hierarchy. They are larger at the bottom, far below elite level. Each additional book has a greater impact on the performance of someone who only has a small home library than it does on the performance of someone from a home overflowing with books.’

Many other studies have backed up these findings, and now – bizarrely thanks to a global pandemic – we are being treated to further evidence on our screens on a nightly basis. Seeing academics’ and experts’ bookshelves in the background is not only encouraging, it speaks volumes.

           

The End of the World (as we know it)

Yay! Covid-19 party time! Lots of socialising, drinks, laughter, sunshine. Yes, all of that actually, though still with guests maintaining a safe two-metre distance from each other. Between you, me and the garden fence, there was also er, a garden fence or two.

See, last Sunday, with the weather predicted to be sunny with a high of 20 degrees Celsius, we decided it was time to hold a garden party to stave off the incarceration blues. Luckily, we have neighbours either side also with gardens, so the aim was to have three garden parties at once, and chat over the fences, though avoiding clinking glasses with each other. In short, it was an outdoor, government disapproved-of gathering, except it didn't break any of the lockdown rules. Hugs were virtual, kisses were in the air. I carried a broom to ensure others were at a safe remove.

Sunbathers will be arrested!

I realise not everyone has the benefit of a garden, and we're thankful that we have a small patch of grass on which to sit, lie, and - later in the afternoon - stumble and collapse on. It also helped that both fences are low, so chatting to the neighbours was easy. And this was on the same day that health secretary Hatt Mancock had said that if we all didn't behave ourselves and stay at home the government would introduce more drastic lockdown powers and take away the right to exercise outside. Bollocks to that we all said and filled our glasses.

I'd like to bet Hancock has a garden in which to sunbathe and ease the cares of his undoubtedly busy days. He certainly won't be out of a job either. But it seemed to me that this business of saying 'behave or else' is nothing short of blackmail: 'Stay indoors, don't go to the park or beach, do not sunbathe, or else granny gets it' was the metaphorical message, delivered in random letters cut out of the Conservative manifesto and glued to the back of an old 'Keep Calm and Carry On' poster.

Wouldn't it have been better for the government (I hate the way that word starts with 'gove'...) to simply say, if you have a garden use it for sunbathing and exercise during the fine weather and don't go to a public space. If you don't have a garden or even a balcony, you can go to a public area for exercise but you must maintain social distancing as already recommended'? Yes it would. No need for discussion.

The shape of things to come?

That way, everybody gets their dose of rays and vitamin D appropriately. As we sat or stood in our gardens having this very conversation, we couldn't understand how we - three urban couples with none of us working in Number 10 (not weird enough to be on Dom's recruitment list. Ed.) - could develop a 'sunshine policy' of such wisdom while all the government could think of doing was waving a big stick and shouting.

From the speakers on the balcony songs were playing from a 'Covid-19 Playlist' we'd developed. Each song title had something to do with incarceration, escape, illness, or predictions of doom, and included such gems as 'Don't Stand So Close to Me', 'You Can't Always Get What You Want', and 'Take My Breath Away'. We discovered that the Rolling Stones even have a song called 'Ventilator Blues' - who knew?? (The full playlist is attached at the end of this piece should you want to use it)

We swapped isolation stories, shopping stories, talked about what we'd been eating, had stocks of (wine!) or were short of. Working from home experiences were also shared (another glass darling?), and there was talk of how much weight we'd all been putting on despite the exercise. Oh, and I'm fairly sure we touched on the collapse of civilisation as R.E.M.'s 'It's the End of the World as We Know It' streamed in the background.

Aftermath. Oh the humanity!

There were differing opinions as to whether we were facing the final countdown or that we were on the eve of destruction, but we all agreed there was something in the air and that we wanted to break free. Was a virus ever as toe-tapping and singalong as this?

Okay yes I'm being somewhat flippant, and you might argue that given the circumstance this isn't the time nor the place for jest, but there has been humour somewhere every time there's been adversity. I say this as a certain fact and without having done extensive research to prove it, but in both the world wars (to date) soldiers and the civilians left behind minding the shop made up songs and ditties, joked about the Bosch or Hitler, and, well, in the end you've gotta laugh or you'd go mad.

Our garden party was as much an act of defiance against the virus as anything else, and assuming Boris and the Cabinet aren't planning to instigate police shoot-to-kill policies against any and all revellers, there will be other social events. When this virus is knocked on the head the nation will hold the mother of all parties, and this time there will be hugging, kissing and backslapping up close and personal. There will be singing. All together now: 'We Are The Champions My Friend...'

The Covid-19 Playlist (in no particular order)

Oxygene pt 4 - Jean-Michel Jarre
The air that I breathe - Hollies
Take my breath away - Berlin
Don't stand so close to me - The Police
I will survive - Gloria Gaynor
Doctor doctor - Thompson Twins
Bad case of loving you - Robert Palmer
Fever - Elvis
Eve of Destruction - Barry McGuire
Dust in the wind - Kansas
Road to nowhere - Talking Heads
Isolation - Joy Division
Climbing up the walls - Radiohead
It's the end of the world as we know it - R.E.M.
Waiting for the end of the world - Elvis Costello
Anarchy in the UK - sex pistols
Counting flowers on the wall - Peggy Lee
I want to break free - Queen
We Gotta get out of this place - The Animals
All along the watchtower - Jimi Hendrix
Stayin' alive - Bee Gees
The final countdown - Europe
Downtown - Petula Clark
Disease - Matchbox 20
All by myself - Eric Carmen (but lots of covers)
Just the two of us - Bill Withers
Unchain my heart - Joe Cocker
Help - The Beatles
We are family - Sister Sledge
Sick as a dog - Aerosmith
Set me free - The Kinks
Things can only get better - d:ream
Ventilator Blues - Rolling Stones (seriously! Who knew?!)
Something in the air - David Bowie
Get off of my cloud - Rolling Stones
You can't always get what you want - Rolling Stones
...and, because our house is wedged between the neighbours... Stuck in the Middle with You - Stealer's Wheel