{"id":657,"date":"2015-07-22T14:44:03","date_gmt":"2015-07-22T14:44:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/rachel.we-are-low-profile.com\/blog\/?p=657"},"modified":"2015-07-22T14:52:55","modified_gmt":"2015-07-22T14:52:55","slug":"zombie-apocalypse-planning-preparedness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rachel.we-are-low-profile.com\/blog\/zombie-apocalypse-planning-preparedness\/","title":{"rendered":"Zombie Apocalypse Planning: Preparedness, dry runs and speculative survival strategies that allow us to discuss the unthinkable"},"content":{"rendered":"

Here\u2019s an academic paper I wrote and presented at Plymouth University’s\u00a0 Zombies – Walking, Eating and Performance Symposium<\/a> in 2013… It’s an oldie but a goodie!<\/p>\n

\n

Zombie Apocalypse Planning: Preparedness, dry runs and speculative survival strategies that allow us to discuss the unthinkable<\/h2>\n

Embedded in the zombie genre and mythos is the immanent threat of apocalypse –\u00a0the complete and final destruction of the world as we know it via an uncontainable, untamable and ever-growing army of the undead.<\/p>\n

\"ALL_ZombieApocolypse\"<\/p>\n

This is the scenario presented to us in films like 28 Days Later<\/em> (Danny Boyle, 2002), the comedy Zombieland<\/em> (Ruben Fleischer, 2009), the novel World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War<\/em> (Max Brooks, 2006) or the multiplayer open-world survival horror mod DayZ<\/em> (Dean Hall, 2012). While I recognize that each of these sources is entirely fictional (and it is not my intention to refer to any specific<\/em> depiction of the zombie apocalypse in this paper), my interest lies in the serious<\/u> consideration of real-world zombie apocalypse planning. These are the conversations about survival scenarios, dry runs of escape routes, imagined interaction with (or formation of) survivor groups raised by these fictional sources.<\/p>\n

This paper sits in close parallel to my arts practice as one half of the collaboration LOW PROFILE<\/a>, our on-going performative investigations into notions of survival, preparedness and dry-runs and our stated desire to reclaim, rehabilitate and repurpose over-used, over-familiar and over-played sources, that might otherwise be dismissed as trivial, over the top, far-fetched, unlikely, incredible or absurd. (LOW PROFILE, 2012: 5)<\/p>\n

\"Z-Apocalypse_definition\"<\/p>\n

What I am particularly interested in is the performative space (generated through speculative conversations) for Z-apocalypse \u2018planners\u2019 to safely explore, discuss, examine, evaluate and begin to reconcile elements of their everyday lived experience. It is my belief that (much like the situations created in my practice with the DRY RUN<\/em> series) these conversations allow for a shift in scale and perspective in the \u2018quietly political\u2019 consideration of macro socio-economic situations by approaching the world and the details of lived experience from a local, personal level.<\/p>\n

If we take apocalypse here to mean \u2018an event involving destruction or damage on an awesome or catastrophic scale\u2019 (New Oxford American Dictionary, 2005), it becomes important to consider how the zombie apocalypse differs in a number of crucial ways from other apocalypse scenarios. Unlike natural disasters (e.g. fire, flood, earthquake or tsunami) or massive accidents (e.g. failure of colossal power stations or control systems of worldwide air traffic), the survivor\u2019s physical environment is not dramatically changed. There is far less threat of the environmental or political fallout associated with nuclear apocalypse, war or violent revolution, any of which would be the result of a series of state-led political decisions. Within the Z-apocalypse scenario, reasons for the catastrophe are rarely focused on, with often only a cursory explanation ever given. Rather than becoming consumed with a desire to assign responsibility for a fault or wrong, survivors find themselves in a world that very closely resembles their \u2018known\u2019 everyday \u2013 unchanged physically, but with a dramatically altered social order. The structures of society as we know it begin to collapse \u2013 existing economic, family and personal relationships (like work, jobs, friendship, romantic bonds, etc.), the rule of law and organised politics are all thrown into question.<\/p>\n

\"Z-Apocalypse_thefacts\"<\/p>\n

In this situation, the activity of Z-apocalypse planning relies on only a modest knowledge of the zombie genre, what one could term the basic \u2018facts\u2019 \u2013 the initial outbreak happens quickly, with little warning and spreads at an alarming rate; zombies were previously (until recently) normal humans like you and I but are now driven purely by instinct and have an insatiable hunger for human flesh; zombies will stop at nothing to attack and harm humans and once injured by a zombie, you<\/em> are doomed to become one of them. This potential survival situation may be particularly relevant to us as inhabitants of western late-capitalist countries like the UK as it deals directly with individualism, self-reliance and self-preservation, characteristics that Adam Curtis (and others) would identify with \u2018the century of the self\u2019 (Curtis: 2002).<\/p>\n

Z-apocalypse planning requires complex cognitive abilities – engaging in hypothetical thinking, imagination, contemplation of the future, understanding causal relationships, prediction adjustment, simulating or imagining alternative outcomes and the recognition that what agents want not<\/em> to happen can also happen \u2013 which psychologists Carroll, Sweeny, & Shepperd argue do not develop fully until adulthood (Carroll et al 2006:58, citing Nurmi, 1991; Wadsworth, 1996; Piaget, 1972; Harter & Pike, 1984). Therefore, it is specifically an adult activity – one of the increasingly rare times adults are called upon to use their imagination in such a way. In this sense, Z-apocalypse planning involves fantasy \u2013 \u2018the faculty or activity of imagining (esp improbable and impossible) things\u2019 (New Oxford American Dictionary, 2005) \u2013 but is not fanciful. It does not involve magic or happen in a world other than our own[1]<\/sup><\/a> and as players of Slingshot\u2019s mass-player zombie chase game 2.8 Hours Later<\/em> (2010) are reminded in their initial briefing \u201cthe laws of physics still apply\u201d.<\/p>\n

\"2.8HoursLater_SlingshotGames\"<\/p>\n

Alongside a knowledge of the basic \u2018facts\u2019 of the mythos, gained through minimal levels of exposure to the genre, Z-A planners may draw on their own experience of everyday \u2018moments of apocalypse\u2019 as a reference point, helping them to imagine the kinds of things that might go wrong. By \u2018moments of apocalypse\u2019 I mean experienced glitches that expose the otherwise rarely visible infrastructure of our technologically enabled late-capitalist society. These are moments when we become aware of our individual and collective dependence on contemporary supply chains and communication systems. Artist\/theorist Rosa Menkman discusses the glitch as:<\/p>\n

a powerful interruption that shifts an object away from its flow and ordinary discourse, towards the ruins of destructed meaning. This concept of flow [\u2026] [draws on the writing of] Deleuze and Guattari, who describe flow in terms of the beliefs and desires that both stimulate and maintain society. (Menkman, 2011: 29)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"RosaMenkman-Glitch-MatrixCat\"<\/p>\n

As such, the term glitch (and by association, the notion of \u2018moments of apocalypse\u2019) could be used here to refer to \u2018a not yet defined break from a procedural flow, fostering a critical potential\u2019 (Menkman, 2011: 27). As Menkman suggests, \u2018[r]ather than creating the illusion of a transparent, well-working interface [\u2026], the glitch captures the machine revealing itself\u2019 (Menkman, 2011: 30).<\/p>\n

Our experience of \u2018moments of apocalypse\u2019 might include things like the failure of mobile phone networks at times of high-traffic like New Year\u2019s Eve (that reveal a lack of resilience and capacity in our ways to simply make contact with friends and loved-ones), or being faced by empty supermarket shelves after periods of heavy snowfall (revealing the mechanics of a just-in-time supply chain in the production and consumption of food) or our willing and un-willing participation in (and exposure to the results of) financial crises, civil resistance or social unrest (revealing our own levels of agency in terms of the choices we make in the application of our labour and human effort).<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

* * *<\/strong><\/p>\n

In their 1986 paper psychologists Hazel Markus and Paula Nurius begin to define the notion of \u2018possible selves\u2019 as \u2018the ideal selves that we would very much like to become\u2019 (Markus & Nurius, 1986:954) arguing that each of us holds onto a series of possible selves as part of the way we create and compile our own self-image and self-concept. They continue by saying that these possible selves:<\/p>\n

[\u2026] are also the selves we could<\/em> become, and the selves we are afraid<\/em> of becoming. [\u2026] They are different and separable from the current or now selves, yet are intimately connected to them. (Markus & Nurius, 1986:954) (my emphasis)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

If we take Z-A planning conversations as a moment that we might make public <\/em>our otherwise internalised \u2018possible selves\u2019, we might expose what Markus & Nurius term \u2018the cognitive manifestation of enduring goals, aspirations, motives, fears and threats\u2019 (954). If, as they also state, these possible selves function \u2018to provide an evaluative and interpretive context for the now self\u2019 (962) and \u2018reflect the extent to which the self is socially determined and constrained\u2019 (???), then Z-A planning conversations may (unwittingly) become a vital performative space for adults to explore and reflect on their own knowledge and experience of the world and reconsider the potential of their own agency in ways that may seem untinkable<\/u> in their everyday lives.<\/p>\n

In these conversations, Z-A planners are called upon to identify their basic needs and devise ways to satisfy these. Here we may see a correlation with Abraham Maslow\u2019s 1943 hierarchy of needs, where the satisfaction of physiological (e.g. hunger, thirst, warmth, sleep) and personal safety needs (e.g. protection, order, law) take precedence, but interestingly Z-A scenarios allow these to be \u2018satisfied\u2019 through processes of self-actualisation (creativity, problem solving, authenticity, spontaneity etc.), the building of self-esteem and confidence through \u2018achievement\u2019 of survival goals and a reconsideration of the role of social relationships in the quest to survive (friendship, team work, trust, affection, belongingness and love). This re-alignment and concurrent positioning fits well with the post-colonial critique of Maslow\u2019s emphasis on the hierarchal meeting of needs and in-built assumption that only those who have sufficient control over economic and resource wealth can achieve self-actualisation.<\/p>\n

In the imagined Z-A scenario, this relationship between economic status and the pre-Z-A world (the one that Z-A planners currently inhabit) is irrevocably changed. The dominant features of late capitalism – the concentration of speculative financial capital, globalized markets and labour, mass consumption and the dominance of multinational corporations \u2013 are under threat. Rather than going to work as usual, Z-A planners envisage a time when money is worthless, when the notions of possessions, property and access to resources are re-negotiated (things like trespass, theft and looting become commonplace) and when status is defined through demonstrated skill and the application of technique (meritocracy). Not only does this allow for a re-ordering of priorities in terms of universal human needs<\/em> but also sets up a situation where human qualities<\/em> like observation, level-headedness, rational thinking, resourcefulness, grit and determination become highly prized.<\/p>\n

\"MomentsOfApocalypse\"<\/p>\n

In my consideration of Z-A planning, I am also interested why is it that people get involved<\/em> in these conversations – why do they not just resign themselves to their fate and the inevitability of their death at the hands of the overwhelming zombie horde? In their essay Forsaking Optimism<\/em> (2006) psychologists Carroll, Sweeny, & Shepperd state that:<\/p>\n

when people believe they can control their outcomes, they believe they can take actions to increase the occurrence of a desired outcome and avoid the occurrence of an undesired outcome. (Carroll et al 2006:59)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Could the Z-A scenario potentially result in an increased perception of personal autonomy, rather than the feelings of pessimism that accompany the perception of future events as out of your control?<\/p>\n

\"MaslowVsZombies\"<\/p>\n

In their book A Theory of Human Need<\/em> (1991) Len Doyal and lan Gough argue that \u2018basic needs are linked to the avoidance of serious harm\u2019 (Doyal & Gough, 1991:50). Doyal & Gough go on to identify physical health<\/em> and autonomy<\/em> as the universal prerequisites necessary to enable sustained and critical (social) participation in one\u2019s own life, which they define as \u2018the capacity to situate it, to criticize it, and, if necessary, to act to change it\u2019 (Gough, 1994:28). This linking of physical health and autonomy could be seen as cyclical \u2013 when our level of physical (and mental) health or wellbeing falls below a certain standard, our autonomy becomes impeded and similarly when our level of autonomy falls below a certain level, our physical (and mental) health or wellbeing also suffers. In contemporary Western society the \u2018avoidance of serious harm\u2019 could be expanded through a complex set of negative or un-ideal consequences related to our economic participation in a capitalist system \u2013 joblessness, homelessness, loss of freedom of movement through imprisonment, loss of monetary resources or possessions, loss of social status or capital. Although these situations may not be direct translations of what Doyal & Gough mean by physical health<\/em> and autonomy<\/em>, again we could identify a strong correlation between the \u2018losses\u2019 experienced above and their impact on achieving the \u2018standards of living adequate for health and well-being\u2019 as detailed in Article 25 [2]<\/a> of the UN\u2019s Universal Declaration of Human Rights<\/em> (1948) and the socio-economic re-positioning of the individual as dependent [3]<\/a> (on the state, charity, family or other individuals).<\/p>\n

In the Z-A scenario, the threat of serious harm (physical injury, infection or death) is ever-present and much of the Z-A planner\u2019s conversation circles around the avoidance of situations where they may be hurt or killed. At the same time, the scenario bypasses our aversion to loss [4]<\/a> of property and financial resources, removing severe negative consequences as listed above (homelessness, joblessness etc.) and places death<\/em>, the loss of life and humanity at the fore. Arguably, this places Z-A planners in situation where they have little or nothing to lose \u2013 apart from the greatest loss of all – non-survival.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/strong><\/p>\n

I would argue, therefore, that the performative space generated during ZA planning conversations and the attraction of the very particular situation of the Zombie Apocalypse (rather than any other type of apocalypse) is based on the following points:<\/p>\n