The Social Virality of Coronavirus
Two months into the new year and it’s safe to say one of the defining events of 2020, if not the decade, is COVID-19, aka Coronavirus. This global crisis is really two epidemics in one — the actual virological epidemic and its much more devastating sibling, the social epidemic.
While the outbreak of Coronavirus is frightening, its actual human and economic impact so far has been relatively small by epidemiological standards. The latest data I’ve seen on the contagiousness and mortality rates of Coronavirus are from the South Korean Center for Disease Control. That country has performed 170,000 tests on people believed to be exposed to Coronavirus. Of the 170,000 people tested, only 6,700 actually had contracted the virus and 44 people have died — a mortality rate after infection of less than 0.7%. Of those deaths, 25 were over the age of 70 and 37 were over the age of 60, implying a mortality rate of 0.1% for people under age 60.
As of this writing, the estimated number of Coronavirus cases worldwide is 109,695, resulting in 3,802 deaths. The vast majority of cases have been in China, with the U.S. reporting about 300 cases and 17 deaths as of last week — all but three of which were in Washington state. Though estimated mortality rates vary, it’s fairly safe to say they are likely around one percent.
While tragic for the victims and families who have been impacted, it’s important to put these numbers in perspective. The CDC estimates that over 34,000 people in the U.S. died last year alone due to regular influenza. That’s actually slightly below the average 37,000 people who die each year from the flu, just in the U.S. To put Coronavirus into historical perspective, the influenza pandemic of 1918 is estimated by the CDC to have infected 500 million people worldwide (about one-third the global population at the time!), killing at least 50 million people including 675,000 deaths in the U.S. We’re talking about a pandemic that killed 0.7% of the entire U.S. population! So by any objective measure of disease, the actual virological epidemic of COVID-19 has been fairly modest.
By comparison, the social epidemic of Coronavirus has been orders of magnitude more devastating economically, politically, and, arguably, to our actual health. The plunge in the stock market just last week eradicated $6 trillion of wealth due to concerns over Coronavirus. Governments from China and Iran to Italy and the U.S. have faced intense criticism over how they’ve handled the crisis. Even as financial markets recover, the aggregate economic impact will be in the trillions of dollars, far exceeding the costs of fighting the actual virus. Many of us can already point to costs in our business and personal lives due to the social reaction to Coronavirus. In other words, the spread of the social epidemic has been much more efficient and costly than the spread of the actual virus.
Like many people in Silicon Valley, I have made a career of studying how ideas “go viral.” The rapid adoption of new products, with relatively little paid promotion, has been one of the secrets of some of the most successful technology businesses, from Facebook to TikTok. Marketers and product managers in the valley obsess over how to drive virality and outright addiction in their products. When a product or idea takes off like an epidemic, people get really rich.
Whether you recognize it or not, you have already been infected by the social epidemic of COVID-19 and are transmitting this virtual virus to others. Think about how many conversations you've had, probably just today, about Coronavirus. It got me thinking, why has the social epidemic of Coronavirus spread so incredibly fast? It’s probably the most virulent social epidemic in history. An interesting book I read several years ago about how to make ideas to go viral called Contagious by Johan Berger offers some insights into that answer.
Berger identifies six principles that drive people to spread the word about products, ideas or messages — in this case, to talk about COVID-19 and drive awareness, urgency and perhaps even paranoia. Each of these principles listed below is present in the story of Coronavirus and helps explain the social epidemic:
Social Currency — People share things that enable them to portray a positive social trait (e.g. smart, successful, rich, cool, etc.). This is very true with Coronavirus. Whether you think the virus itself is certain death or an overblown hype cycle, it’s a chance to show how smart and informed you are, and how you are preparing for (or smugly dismissing) the outbreak.
Triggers — Social stimuli can remind people to talk about a topic. Almost no story has more triggers than a communicable disease. Every time you meet someone, whether stranger or close friend, what do you do? You shake hands, or hug or exchange other physical contact. That social norm is now a trigger for a Coronavirus discussion.
Emotion — The stronger the emotion a story provokes (e.g. fear, anxiety, outrage), the more likely we are to share. Coronavirus strikes this chord with a hammer. It’s almost too easy to tie the virus to emotional topics — the fear of yourself or your loved ones getting infected, the anger over inadequate responses by public officials, the outrage about the over-reaction. Whatever your emotional hook, it’s there for you with Coronavirus.
Public — Visible external cues prompt people to share a certain topic. The public displays of concern over Coronavirus are a constant reminder of Coronavirus. Whether it’s people wearing surgical masks or a nearly empty airplane, these changes to our visible public norms exacerbate the perceived threat.
Practical Value — People like to help others, so we spread the word on things that are helpful. This couldn’t be more the case than with a virus. We offer pumps of Purell. We spray the school classrooms with disinfectant. We wipe down the fitness machines at the gym. Regardless of the true practical value of these efforts, their mere act reminds us of the virus.
Stories — People don’t just share information, they tell stories. And the stories of Coronavirus are irresistible. Who can’t relate to being trapped in an infected cruise ship, or doctors helping others who succumb to the virus themselves, or a quarantine locking down a hospital or school or workplace. The news media knows the power of a good story, and can manage to hook just about any other media story to Coronavirus — financial news is all about the business impacts of Coronavirus, political news has morphed into further proof of our administration’s incompetence, even sports news has focused on the possibility of players contracting Coronavirus in stadiums. Any story is made more urgent, timely and compelling due to Coronavirus.
Of course, despite it’s adherence to all these principles, this social epidemic couldn’t spread as fast as it has without the transmission vehicle of social networks, smartphones and 24-hour news cycles. Why, as a species, would we subject ourselves to the untold economic costs of a social epidemic that, so far, has exceeded the costs of the virological epidemic by such magnitude? Why does the perception of risk cause us irrationally to spend time, money and effort so disproportionately to the statistical reality of that risk? In other words, does the social epidemic provide any benefit, or does it only ominously demonstrate how susceptible we are to informational virality — which can and has been manipulated as part of modern disinformation campaigns.
Perhaps the silver lining of this social epidemic will be the behavioral changes we make as a society. Taking precautionary measures like coughing into a tissue, staying home if you have a fever, and washing our hands more frequently may or may not save us from COVID-19, but will certainly reduce infections and deaths from the regular flu. Further, what can feel at times like a collective over-reaction, may actually be a beneficial defense mechanism for our species — prompting us to take actions and change behaviors faster than an actual virus can spread, preventing a truly virulent strain from ever again becoming the deadly pandemic that happened one hundred years ago. Or, maybe like SARS, ebola and mad cow disease, the social epidemic of this disease will fade as quickly as it arose.