The world as we presently know it, is now disorganised. 

Not that it previously didn’t function effectively, but its fluctual imbalance still allowed for holidays, destination weddings and social gatherings before its current predicament - pandemic and uncertainty. Its dysfunction seems to have been set in motion by language which many lack the understanding to interpret. 

On 11 March 2020, when the UN World Health Organization (WHO) Director-General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus declared our current collective predicament a pandemic, public response to this was panic buying and intensified anxiety. This was shortly followed by inundating moving images from major broadcasters of empty shelves and long queues at supermarkets. Like the citizens of Pompeii, we were caught unaware, unprepared and unready for this supposed new found chaos. The apocalypse seemed to have arrived earlier than expected.

Although we are neither bathing in ashes nor swimming in lava, it could be said that we are overshadowed by clouds of uncertainty, doubt and fear, which disallows us from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. As I write, 15,000 individuals are dead in the United Kingdom. The song ‘What’s going on’ by Marvin Gaye comes to mind. Though it doesn’t seem like the appropriate question for the perfect obvious, it reveals the innermost thoughts in the minds of the concerned, wearied  and perplexed. It is within this same parameters of thought which Virginia Woolf writes ‘the future is dark, which is the best thing the future can be, I think’. Woolf’s conclusions on the future foretells the state of normal, one in which the boundaries of what a normal society looks, feels or sounds like, is constantly being challenged and shifted perhaps by negative neologism, war or most importantly in this case, pandemic. 

I am reminded of John Martin’s painting, Belshazzar’s Feast, (1821) currently held by the Yale Centre for British Art. It dramatically depicts the scene of a great luxurious feast as described in the fifth chapter of the Biblical book of Daniel, written by the titan himself. There is shock, bewilderment is present and anxiety is vivid. So much that the king’s throne is vacant and fear is seen gripping his face. Martin gracefully showcases his skill as a master craftsman, aptly taking into account geometry, design and form to present a memorable visual complementation of Daniel’s text. The Tower of Babel is visible in the background, stunning architecture in the middle-ground, with the foreground showing what appears to be the king amidst his wisemen and dignitaries. I am mostly taken aback by the manner in which Martin shifts the gaze of nighty per cent of the characters in his painting towards the crux of what’s been portrayed - the strange writing on the wall, written in a language many cannot interpret. - ‘Mene mene tekel upharsin’ 

Mr Ghebreyesus declaring our current predicament a pandemic triggered the hysteria. It is a simple message which was necessary and quite understandable at surface level. However, perhaps, what is vague to us all is our inability to fully comprehend what this means. Why did we have to starve supermarkets of toilet rolls and devise inflated fallacies intended at pitting countries and ethnic groups against each other?  Why was this our first response? Did we subconsciously know of an impending apocalypse? Was it fear? The strange writing on the wall appeared in what it seems to be an unknown language and like the characters in John Martin’s Belshazzar’s Feast, we all went berserk! We are suffering from intense collective amnesia so much that we have forgotten that this isn’t the first time we are having to interpret strange languages and live through this kind of crisis, where postmodern ideals and support systems such as the internet and mindfulness were nonexistent. What shall we say of those who lived through the Spanish flu, Black Death and Smallpox outbreaks? They had neither therapists nor comfy Spotify playlists, but they did have faith and resolve to outlive the pandemic. 

In our attempts to interpret the strange writing on our wall, we have used our system of language to make meaning of the unknown. Many have become overnight heralds, churning out unverified content and news. What is unfolding before our eyes is the misuse and the weaponisation of language to fabricate heresies that further convolutes our current situation. At first, it didn’t affect black people, now there are more deaths within BAME communities. We also heard of the the virus being airborne, with new found abilities to spread through pipes and water tanks. We then heard a leader of a certain country declare chloroquine as a possible remedy. Moral panic is no doubt playing its role as usual, but journalists have to give us regular unbiased updates and our advancement in methods of how we consume news has allowed for adequate sifting and sorting, so we can’t really assume moral panic is a medium for unthoughtful interpretation. It will always be a background music of some sort as long as meta-narratives such as religion, Marxism, capitalism and the likes exist. 

From the dawn of time, as humans beings, we collectively have a long history of pointing accusing fingers at causes, movements, the innocent, the less privileged, tribes and nation states, using defamatory language to cast blame and justify the reason for chaos. In doing this, the group or sect casting the blame instantly claims the moral high ground and appease their conscience. Sopona, the Yoruba god of smallpox was said to be the main cause of the epidemic when the virus found its way into the unprotected villages of Western Nigeria in the mid 90s. It wasn’t until Dr Oguntola Sapara, a Yoruba doctor originally from Sierra Leone learned that the Sopona priests in some of these villages were intentionally infecting villagers who had refused certain enforced tax and extortion fee levied on them by the priests. Yes certain groups and causes might have malevolent intentions, we can choose to blame our current chaos on China, 5G and the motive of a certain cabal whose aim is to obliterate religion, but it still doesn’t provide a vaccine, neither does it magically protect us from getting infected. We are attempting control of the situation by any means necessary at the detriment of our humanity and dignity, unfortunately we are using lethal words and language to cope and survive. Inhabitants of the great hall as described by Daniel would probably have caused a stampede and screaming out their version of apocalypse in attempts to hastily exit the hall. Perhaps we can ascribe this to the dynamics of human nature and other factors, perhaps not, but what still stands is that; such responses are irrational reactions to the unknown that kills rather than save. 

Language can assume many forms and words can make or break a nation. WhatsApp as a tool for misinformation within Black and African communities can be classed as a weaponisation of language and also a catalyst for moral panic. I am writing as a firsthand witness and perhaps a victim of inundating obtuse messages forwarded by parents and acquaintances, one of which includes; spreading half cut onions around the house can cure the virus. Is this not unintelligent? If we think again about the characters in John Martin’s Belshazzar’s Feast, if they lived in our time, what would their WhatsApps messages and social media updates say? Judging by their terrifying facial expressions, perhaps worse, because the king’s throne is empty and the queen seems to be making an exit from the painting. In this pandemic, we are unfortunately using corrosive language to heighten uncertainty and postpone hope, which ultimately leads to physical and mental weariness. Aunt A forwards a daft message to uncle B in the morning, they converse on the phone later in the evening. Of course the forwarded message is the topic of conversation and is far exaggerated than initially received, in cultural exclamations and witless deductions. But the problem here is uncle B is on the other side of the Atlantic, spreading fake news and misinforming locals in the name of ‘facts’. Rudyard Kipling properly summed it up in his novel The Light That Failed, when he wrote; ‘we’re all islands shooting lies to each other across seas of misunderstanding’. Language helps in creating identity. In amplifying our current situation with weightless messages, not only are we using words to solidify the unknown abstract and misinterpreting the writing on wall, we are using messages of this kind to create an ecosystem of anxiety, dismay and doubt. For some, coming in contact with such messages might sieve away their zest for life and their will to live. For others, continuous exposure to such messages sees them transform into the very essence of the message itself - hopelessness. Yes there are positive hashtags, memes and strong messaging from behavioural and influencer campaigns helping to curtail panic. WhatsApp recently tweaked its functionality so that its users can only forward received messages to no less than five individuals, but it still doesn’t neutralise or address the root of the problem -  fear and ignorance 

The literary titan Binyavanga Wainaina gracefully stated that, ‘there must be ways to organise the world with language.’ I have been musing heavily on this statement ever since I first read it on Granta in December 2019. What did Binyavanga mean by organising the world with language? Who was he addressing ? In an attempt to make meaning of Binyavanga’s statement, we need to recognise that the organisation and disgoranisation of the world with language isn’t new and has been done before. We see evidence of this in the borrowing of words by the English from Latin and French to constitute the English Language. Dictionaries are often updated yearly to complement the evolving meaning of words coined by popular culture. Colonisation also left its marks on African nations when their native languages were categorised as vernacular, with English, French and Portuguese languages being the new speak. Fast forward to the 21st century, this allowed for both sides of the Atlantic to trade effectively without language barriers. Economies tippled their worth, billionaires were born and civilisation advanced. If we also examine biblical history, though some might argue it’s written from a position of fallacy and metaphor, yet it still proposes the same thought pattern of arranging the world with language. The eleventh chapter in the book of Hebrews reads; ‘By faith we apprehend that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that that which is seen should not take its origin from things which appear.’ The Book of Genesis also gives an account of the confusion of language at Babel. If history has given us evidence of the possibility of this, and great minds putting it forth again as a possible solution, how then does one go about reorganising the world again with language amidst our present circumstance? 

There is no one way to climbing a mountain, neither is there one way to propose a conclusive and definitive response to Binyavanga’s statement. However, one can speculate or suggest propositions. It seems to me that in offering ideals of what a post-pandemic world organise by language looks like, we have to be open to  all kinds of possible thoughts and alternatives. One of which includes enlisting the services of wonder individuals I describe as ‘Watchmen’ whose ‘bizarre’ analysis can co-exist alongside with politics, bureaucracy and pragmatism. I am not speaking of captain of industries, or princes of ideologies. Instead, I refer to those who understand the language of the past, present and future. These are those who can skilfully discern the zeitgeist and wisely adapt it to our current time. They appear to be unearthly, existing simultaneously in our world and realms of infinite possibilities. With unrestricted access, they somehow precisely navigate such realms, bringing back messages and weighty responses to convoluted questions. They’ve always dwelt among us all along, and still do, but we have refused to hear or see them. Some have willingly eased themselves of the burden of being Watchmen by intentionally making themselves scarce, others have succumbed to capitalist pressures, some imprisoned or hung and others are unaccounted for. Drawing again on John Martin’s Belshazzar’s Feast, we see the presence of a rugged odd character in the foreground, dressed in black a robe, pointing audaciously at the enigma in the room; the writing on the wall.  He appears to have answers to the unknown, which is perhaps why Martin chose to make him a central figure in the painting. Although unkempt, he is calm and steady, ready to interrupt the chaos help tame the pandemonium. We later read in the fifth chapter of the book of Daniel the exact meaning of those unknown words on the wall and how it applies to the king and his kingdom. The great city humbly chose to heed the words and instruction of Daniel, a Watchman of his time who was highly competent and described as an individual showing aptitude for every kind of learning, well informed, quick to understand.

Though given in 1962 but still pertinent, in his speech The Artist’s Struggle for Integrity, James Baldwin stated, “The poets (by which I mean all artists) are finally the only people who know the truth about us. Soldiers don’t. Statesmen don’t. Priests don’t. Union leaders don’t. Only poets.” In idealising a post pandemic world organised by language, I’d like to extend Baldwin’s definition of ‘artists’ to include; teachers, journalists, prophets, coders, programmers and other occupations who fall into the category of those who do language, for these are those who know how to successfully interpret, contextualise and make meaning of the writing on the wall. Does this mean we disregard or downplay other vital problem solvers such as nurses, doctors, biologists, virologists and other essential workers? Absolutely not, but it is to highlight the importance of artists or in this context Watchmen, as those who also have a crucial role to play, which society seem to have categorised as frivolous or useless. Baldwin further asserts that “In a country like ours, and at a time like this when something awful is happening to a civilization, when it ceases to produce poets, and, what is even more crucial, when it ceases in any way whatever to believe in the report that only the poets can make… Only an artist can tell … what it is like for anyone who gets to this planet to survive it. What it is like to die, or to have somebody die; what it is like to be glad.” 

While governments and philanthropists give away billions in funding to health agencies for doctors, biologists and virologists to tame our present chaos, a bulk of the handwork is futile if the advise and words of Watchmen are not heeded. Yes, the pandemic can be tamed without their expertise, but we will merely be postponing an apocalypse which will rain down on us in manifolds, should its fullness of time come. For those who do language, the only obstacle here is moral panic and the inundation of alarming images. Nevertheless, this doesn’t mean other Watchmen should forgo their duties or belittle their comrades fighting on the journalistic front, sometimes the institutions from which they fight are rooted in pragmatism and bureaucracy which is neither right nor wrong, but it sometimes acts as veil which they’ve refused to remove from their faces. For Watchmen who have found themselves in other sectors and industries, the words of Toni Morrison in her 1931 essay, ‘No Place for Self-Pity, No Room for Fear’ acts as a call to action. She writes, “this is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.”  In going  to work means Watchmen frequently traversing back and forth between our reality and realms of infinite possibilities, bringing back intelligent and practical solutions to complex problems. It is in times such as our current situation, that we look forward to books, fiction, non-fiction, essays, plays, films, sermons, poetry, art, journalism, prophecies, lectures, spoken word, photography, lyrics and sounds that offer healing and advance civilisation. Since the door into this time has been opened, let Watchmen with known and feasible solutions act unapologetically by choosing to organise the world with positive language.