2021.07.07

Most people would probably agree reality is strange and scary right now. We collectively struggle to understand a world plagued by what can only be called Dystopian Nonfictions: true stories of universal human misery set against a backdrop of threatening apocalypse. A global pandemic, climate change, the collapsing rules-based international order, surveillance capitalism, rampant conspiracy theories, an opioid overdose epidemic, cyber attacks, institutional discrimination, surreal income inequality, online radicalization, disinformation campaigns, renewed great power competition below the threshold of armed conflict triggering another Cold War — each crisis appears more alien and malign than the one that preceded it.

Because the average person struggles to make sense of this brutal world they now live in, many believe themselves powerless to confront so many threatening realities, that only experts can understand something as perplexing as ransomware or hostage diplomacy. Meanwhile, experts struggle even to be heard in the informationally overloaded world of Dystopian Nonfictions (DNFs). This breakdown in communication between experts and average people is dangerous.

While it is true that expertise is needed to find solutions to the DNFs, it is also true that all DNFs will only be overcome through collective action, specifically pan-partisan political action. Thus, experts and laypersons must understand each other if we are to survive in the DNF world. It is therefore imperative we develop a DNF translation technique so the two groups can collectively act on a shared understanding of the most serious realities.

To begin cultivating such a technique, one need only survey the different ways the two groups communicate. Experts — those who concentrate on one narrow field of reality and develop solutions to specific problems within that field — typically interact through exposition, they discuss a topic objectively through description, classification, and exhaustive definition. Conversely, average people — those who must construct a broad conception of reality based solely on commonsense experience — typically communicate through narration, metaphors grounded in shared experience, and simple heuristics.

Thus, the layperson is rarely moved by those who speak in expository prose. In fact, quite the opposite is often the case: many of us naturally distrust supposed experts who speak over our heads. The ordinary person needs a drama to understand a complex reality, a story with events in time and life as it unfolds — not the neutral language, technical precision, or passive third-person voice of expertise. It is easy to underestimate the seriousness of this communication breakdown, but an example will illustrate why the lack of translation between experts and laypersons subverts collective response to a DNF.

As I write, the most menacing DNF is the COVID-19 pandemic. If we are to survive the pandemic, a vital collective action that must succeed is rapid and global vaccine distribution. Humanity is trapped in a race against the coronavirus mutants. Put bluntly, so long as the coronavirus continues to spread across unvaccinated populations, it does not matter if one has been vaccinated, eventually the virus will mutate into a variant that that vaccination cannot defend against (MacMillan).

A significant obstacle to winning this race against extinction is vaccine hesitancy, an issue that is fraught with political and social turmoil. Because the legitimate concerns of hesitaters are roundly dismissed as anti-science conspiracy theories by dogmatic pro-vaxxers, many important questions that contribute to vaccine hesitancy remain unanswered (Glauser).

For example, if it normally takes many years if not decades to prove a vaccine is safe, how did pharmaceutical manufacturers rush multiple coronavirus vaccines to market in a matter of months?

One can observe in the failure to answer such a question the communication breakdown between medical experts and hesitant laypersons: it can only be answered by a narrative, a chronological recounting of events. No amount of technical exposition will do.

Because medical experts fail to translate their work into a narrative, hesitaters must piece one together on their own. And many do so through historical examples such as the first American distribution of a polio vaccine in 1955. In that case, the deactivation of the virus was ineffective, meaning that everyone who received the vaccine was injected with active polio virus. That vaccination programme “caused 40,000 cases of polio, leaving 200 children with varying degrees of paralysis and killing 10” (Fitzpatrick).

This adoption of historical narratives that increase vaccine hesitancy is exacerbated by the public awareness campaigns governments have implemented to inform citizens of the safety and efficacy of the coronavirus vaccines. Campaigns such as that of the Public Health Agency of Canada (PHAC) sadly double down on the use of unconvincing expository prose.

The experts at PHAC wrongly assume that presenting research-backed information in the utterly-incomprehensible-to-the-average-Canadian style of a biology textbook will alleviate the completely reasonable fears of the hesitant layperson. Consider the following example entitled, “How COVID-19 mRNA Vaccines Work” from Canada.ca:

“Messenger ribonucleic acid (mRNA) is a molecule that provides cells with instructions for making proteins. mRNA vaccines contain the instructions for making the SARS-CoV-2 spike protein. This protein is found on the surface of the virus that causes COVID-19. The mRNA molecule is essentially a recipe, telling the cells of the body how to make the spike protein. COVID-19 mRNA vaccines are given by injection, usually into the muscle of the upper arm. After the protein piece is made, the cell breaks down the instructions and gets rid of them. The mRNA never enters the central part (nucleus) of the cell, which is where our DNA (genetic material) is found. Your DNA can’t be altered by mRNA vaccines. The cell then displays the protein piece on its surface. Our immune system recognizes that the protein doesn’t belong there and begins building an immune response and making antibodies.”

Now, compare my attempt at a DNF translation:

“Many vaccines, such as those that protect us from rabies or flu, introduce a weakened or inactive sample of a virus into the body so that your immune system can build antibodies to defend against that virus. A mRNA vaccine operates on the same principle without having to introduce the coronavirus itself into your body. It can do this because of the unique shape of the coronavirus molecule. The coronavirus molecule is a ball covered in spikes, like a medieval weapon called a mace. The ball is the active part of the virus, and the spikes are the armor-piercing proteins that break through the walls of your cells. The spikes do not infect you; they just allow the virus to penetrate your cells.

“mRNA stands for ‘messenger ribonucleic acid.’ A mRNA vaccine is a piece of genetic code that sends a command to the body ordering it to make the spikes (but not the ball) so that they then attack the surface of your cells. Once that rehearsal attack commences, your immune system builds antibodies to fight back. After you have built those antibodies, the coronavirus molecule cannot infect you even if it enters your body because your cells have armor that the spikes cannot penetrate.”

[Full disclosure: I am not a molecular biologist. However, a good friend of mine is, and I thank him for his assistance and expertise in helping me craft this DNF translation.]

If my DNF translation is more convincing to the vaccine hesitater than the PHAC’s exposition, its appeal likely derives from a use of metaphor that seeks to tell an accurate story of what is happening when one receives a mRNA vaccine while also reassuring the skeptical reader that the translator knows what is at stake in that story.

When the PHAC says, “The mRNA molecule is essentially a recipe, telling the cells of the body how to make the spike protein,” the experts state a fact that is true of the molecule itself, but they disguise rather than disclose the reality of vaccination. A mRNA vaccine is not a recipe. It is a direct order that commands your body to prepare to fight for its survival. The hesitant layperson is correct to be suspicious of any exposition that conceals that reality.

To survive in a world of DNFs like the coronavirus, experts and laypersons must have a shared understanding of our world and its problems and which realities truly matter. To establish that shared understanding, we need simple concepts expressed in plain language that make complex realities comprehensible to the average person. Put simply, if we cannot communicate effectively, we cannot act collectively. Description, classification, and definition must be translated into narrative, metaphor, and heuristic. A virus molecule must be a weapon, one’s cells must be heroic troops preparing for battle.

Anyone can — and everyone should — do this kind of translating. After all, every expert is a layperson outside their field and most every layperson has an expertise. All that is required to translate between these two approaches to the world is a willingness to work with others to continually refine our collective understanding of reality, to make reality less strange and scary. Reality is a team effort.