Enquanto o Brasil se torna o novo epicentro da pandemia, motoristas Uber precisam escolher entre arriscar seu bem estar e desistir de sua principal fonte de renda. O que há de novo nisso? Conversamos com três motoristas de Belo Horizonte para descobrir.

Por Ana Guerra

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O Brasil é o maior mercado da Uber fora dos Estados Unidos, com mais de um milhão de “parceiros”. Recentemente, o país bateu outro recorde como a pior eclosão de COVID-19 no mundo depois dos Estados Unidos, com 772.416 casos confirmados e mais de 39.000 mortes até 11 de junho. Este artigo explora o impacto da pandemia em uma população social e economicamente marginalizada: motoristas Uber. Ele traz à tona preocupações que povoam seu cotidiano enquanto circulam pelas ruas de Belo Horizonte, a sexta cidade mais populosa do Brasil.

Por dentro dos modelos preditivos da Uber

A plataforma transnacional, que opera em 63 mercados nacionais pelo mundo, é conhecida como um exemplo da economia sob-demanda, ou “economia de bicos”. Se por um lado ela confere um certo grau de independência aos trabalhadores, por outro, não os fornece estabilidade ou qualquer tipo de proteção . Trabalhando sob um regime de trabalho altamente datificado os motoristas se veem em meio a rotinas exaustivas e privados de direitos trabalhistas, já que não são classificados como empregados.

Como esse modelo funciona? A plataforma emprega uma série de técnicas de gerenciamento algorítmico da força de trabalho dos motoristas a partir da combinação entre um ideal de livre mercado autorregulado e análise preditiva, o que costuma ser apresentado como um modo de minimizar incertezas e ajudar os motoristas a tomarem decisões mais lucrativa. so se torna possível graças à contínua coleta e processamento de dados sobre padrões de trânsito e localização e comportamentos de passageiros e motoristas. Os esforços tanto de desenvolvimento, quanto retóricos da empresa evidenciam a ambição de gerenciar e mitigar incertezas.  Isso é ilustrado pelas soluções de forecasting da plataformas, voltadas para a predição e o gerenciamento das dinâmicas espaço-temporais do que é chamado de “mundo real”, conforme é visível em publicações no blog de engenharia da Uber e em aplicações de patente, por exemplo.   O desejo de antecipar dinâmicas futuras por meio de dados também é evidenciada peloque Rosenblat and Stark  chamam “trabalho algorítmico” dos motoristas Uber.

A Uber é um caso paradigmático de precarização do trabalho pelo que é conhecido como “economia de bicos” ou “economia de compartilhamento”. De certa forma, não surpreende que este processo seja frequentemente chamado de “uberização do trabalho”.  A incorporação de modelos preditivos à rotina dos motoristas reverbera o que Adrian Mackenzie identifica como uma generalização da predição na vida cotidiana, ou seja, a presença crescente da ordenação algorítmica de preferências e recomendações, reconhecimento de padrões e previsão de demanda voltados à estabilização de resultados e ações futuros.

A mistura perigosa de performances datificadas, precarização e informalização do trabalho, e pobreza é particularmente tóxica durante uma pandemia que vem se caracterizando pela incerteza que impregna todas as esferas da vida.

Managing uncertainty in a pandemic

Desde que a Covid-19 passou a tomar conta dos nossos pensamentos e afetos, o mundo real parece estar se tornando ainda mais real, e nossa relação com a predição, um pouco mais íntima. O mundo como o conhecemos está se transformando rapidamente, e às vezes é difícil acompanhar os números que nos dizem o que está acontecendo hoje e o que esperar do amanhã: quantos casos? Quantos mortos? Quantos dias até voltarmos ao “normal”? A resposta muda dia após dia. O novo coronavírus distorceu nossa experiência de tempo e espaço. Um agente invisível, que podemos ou não estar carregando dentro de nossas células ou na superfície de nossas roupas, rapidamente perturbou as referências sólidas em torno das quais nos acostumamos a organizar nossas rotinas Enquanto uma ampla variedade de dados, modelos preditivos, projeções e representações visuais tentam tornar seus efeitos um pouco mais inteligíveis, o desconhecido continua encontrando modos de nos confrontar por ângulos inesperados. Qualquer lampejo de certeza rapidamente se prova efêmero e nenhuma projeção ou infográfico animado dá conta de amenizar isso. De certa forma, nossa narrativa dataísta que privilegia ideais de verdade datificados e orientados para a predição é progressivamente desestabilizada. A noção de “dataísmo”, como explica José van Dijck, diz de uma crença  na o “objetividade da quantificação” potencializada pela datificação do comportamento e da socialidade humanos em plataformas de mídia digital. Sim, continuamos contando  —  contando pacientes, contando leitos, contando corpos, contando os dias  —  mas nosso ritmo mudou.

Apesar da sensação globalizada de incerteza, alguns lugares parecem mais incertos do que outros. Aqui no Brasil, o novoepicentro da Covid-19, o “mundo real” encontra pitadas de realismo fantástico. Entre subnotificações, falta de testes, infindáveis conflitos entre os posicionamentos de autoridades de saúde e os do presidente Jair Bolsonaro, notícias sobre valas coletivas e notícias falsas sobre caixões cheios de pedra, os brasileiros se vêem em um cenário no mínimo caótico. Enquanto isso, o número de mortes segue aumentando à medida que as camadas mais pobres da população são afetadas pelo vírus e por um sistema econômico e social colapsado.

Entre aqueles apanhados pelo desamparo estão muitos dos motoristas Uber no Brasil. O país é o segundo maior mercado da Uber fora dos Estados Unidos. Desde que chegou por aqui em 2014, a plataforma rapidamente se posicionou como uma solução de mobilidade para comunidades mais pobres e menos assistidas pelo transporte público, forjando um papel quase infraestrutural. Ela chega onde muitos taxistas se recusam a ir e onde o transporte público é deficitário, como em favelas e periferias. Além disso, pegar um uber pode ser mais tão barato quanto pegar um ônibus, e, em geral,  muito mais rápido. Para além disso, ela também sustenta uma posição ambígua e privilegiada como uma salvadora em meio a altas taxas de desemprego, e muitos motoristas dependem da plataforma como principal fonte de renda. Neste momento, no entanto, os motoristas são forçados a desacelerar. Alguns relatam uma queda de 90% no movimento no movimento.

Lidando com tempos incertos: respostas da Uber vs. experiências dos motoristas

As respostas da Uber à pandemia fazem pouco para apaziguar a sensação de incerteza. Dentro do pacote de “recursos”direcionado a motoristas brasileiros, a plataforma anunciou uma “auxilio financeiro” com duração de até 14 dias para “parceiros” diagnosticados com Covid-19 ou classificados como casos suspeitos ou parte de grupos de risco. Sua elegibilidade deve ser atestada por documentos oficiais de autoridades de saúde contendo informações detalhadas. A assistência não tem um valor fixo, comum a todos os motoristas assistidos. Ao invés disso, a quantia a ser recebida é calculada com base nos rendimentos médios do motorista nos últimos três meses, estando intimamente vinculada à performance individual de cada um. A própria política que informa a assistência é efêmera parece  incerta e de curto prazo, já que a plataforma indica que podem ser atualizadas em pouco tempo. As regras descritas acima foram atualizadas no dia 17 de abril e eram válidas até o dia 8 de maio, tendo sido posteriormente estendidas até o dia 8 de junho. Tudo isso é exacerbado pelo tratamento paradoxal da noção de “risco”. Quando um motorista solicita a assistência, sua conta é automaticamente desativada, por motivos de segurança. Isso não garante, no entanto, que ele será atendido. O motorista é assim colocado em uma posição dúbia: ao mesmo tempo em que ele representa um risco, e portanto não pode trabalhar, ele não está em risco, e, por isso, não receberá nenhuma assistência.

Para conhecer melhor a perspectiva dos motoristas, entrevistei Giacomo, Antônio e Verón, três motoristas que trabalham na região metropolitana de Belo Horizonte, cidade populosa com mais de 2.5 milhões de habitantes e capital do estado de Minas Gerais. Também analisei mais de 50 comentários mais de 50 comentários deixados em uma postagem no YouTubepublicada por Samuel, um motorista e YouTuber que compartilhou minhas perguntas com seus seguidores. No momento da escrita deste artigo, todos os três entrevistados continuam trabalhando. Enquanto dirigem, o Sars-Cov-2 pode estar dando uma volta em seu banco de trás, um risco agravado pelo falta de cuidado de alguns passageiros. Giacomo estima que de dez passageiros por ele transportados, dois teriam usado máscara. A esposa de Antônio é diabética, grupo de risco para a Covid-19.  Ela precisa de uma dieta balanceada, e ele decidiu continuar trabalhando para que possam pagar por isso. Para se proteger, comprou máscaras e álcool em gel, e embora pudesse requerer um único reembolso no valor de R$20,00 oferecido pela Uber para aquisição de produtos de higiene, ele se optou por não fazê-lo. “Uma ajuda irrisória”, diz, “é um desaforo”. Os motoristas compartilham a sensação de que o movimento se afrouxou, o que significa ficar algumas horas parado dentro do carro esperando (e, portanto, sem ganhar). O trabalho ficou um pouco mais solitário. Após ter o filho de 19 anos assassinado, Verón relata ter ficado parado por mais de dois anos, “e aí eu conheci os aplicativos”. Desde então, ele vê dirigir para a Uber como um tipo de terapia e uma oportunidade para conhecer novas pessoas. Ele nota que desde o início da pandemia, os passageiros se tornaram menos inclinados a conversar durante as corridas.

A maior parte dos motoristas que responderam à postagem de Samuel parece terem desistido de dirigir por enquanto. Medo e segurança figuram como as principais razões para isso: “eu já andava com medo antes, imagina agora”, escreve um deles. Trabalhando ou não, os motoristas logo sentiram as consequências financeiras da pandemia. Muitos estão devolvendo os carros alugados (cerca de 160 mil, segundo informações de locadoras). Outros ainda não sabem como pagarão a próxima parcela do veículo que comparam precisamente para trabalharem como motoristas de aplicativo. Muitos recorreram ao auxílio emergencial do governo, no valor de R$ 600,00 mensais. Algumas das solicitações foram aceitas, algumas recusadas. A maioria dos motoristas segue encarando a mensagem “em análise” na tela de seus celulares e computadores, acompanhada da recomendação ambígua, com doses de cinismo, para “tentar novamente amanhã” — alguns deles vem “tentando novamente amanhã” há mais de um mês. Quanto à assistência da Uber, a grande parte dos motoristas não é elegível. Prevalece um sentimento geral de descrédito na “mãe Uber”, como alguns costumam se referir à plataforma, por vezes ironicamente, mas nem sempre: “a Uber não faz nada por nós”.

Mas a algo realmente sob o sol?

Quando lhes peço para descrever o atual momento em uma palavra, motoristas transitam entre “incerteza”, “medo”, “frustração” e “resiliência”, “perseverança”, “aprendizado”. Mas o que isso significa? Seriam estes sentimentos novos? Olhar para como a pandemia afetou motoristas Uber pode ser mais produtivo pelo que ela torna visível do que pelo que traz de novo. As circunstâncias em que nos encontramos nos convidam a desfamiliarizar um estado de precariedade recentemente atualizado, mas há muito naturalizado. Como sugere Judith Butler, quando perguntamos sobre as condições dos motoristas Uber sob a pandemia, “nós também estamos perguntando sobre as condições de vida e morte que sustentam a organização social do trabalho”.

A incerteza não é nenhuma novidade. Tanto quanto estão acostumados a serem “contados“  — trabalhando sob um regime altamente datificado, sendo continuamente atrelados às métricas de suas performances— os motoristas Uber também estão acostumados a contabilizar. Tentar estimar seus ganhos diários enquanto lidam com a taxa de serviço variável cobrada pela Uber ao fim de cada corrida, calcular gastos com combustível e manutenção, planejar o pagamento do aluguel ou das parcelas do carro, tudo isso é parte de sua rotina. Eles também dedicam tempo e energia à criação de estratégias e metas para otimizar sua produtividade. A vida como motorista Uber é marcada por uma orientação precária de à preditibilidade de curto prazo, enquanto o futuro continua obscuro.

Quando trazemos o risco de volta à equação, as condições de vida e morte se tornam ainda mais evidentes. Butler pergunta: “quem arrisca vida enquanto trabalha? quem trabalha até morrer?”. Trabalhar até morrer é uma metáfora um tanto comum para os motoristas. Como um dito motorista que entrevistei em 2018, pouco tempo após um dano causado a seu carro o impedir de trabalhar por mais de 20 dias, “agora é a hora que eu entro na Uber pra gastar. Enquanto o corpo aguentar, eu vou indo”. Infelizmente, a presença da morte vai além da metáfora. O medo da violência é um forte componente de experiência compartilhada dos motoristas que se veem vulneráveis a assaltos, sequestros e assassinatos. Não é raro nos depararmos com notícias sobre corpos de motoristas Uber encontrados algum tempo depois de serem reportados como desaparecidos.

Assim, enquanto o modelo de negócios e o desenvolvimento tecnológico da Uber gira em torno da mitigação de incertezas por meio de processamento de dados e modelos preditivos, os motoristas, de seu lado, estão bastante acostumados a gerenciar incertezas às próprias custas. A diferença reside na escala. A Uber quer estabilizar o mundo real, prever a demanda, gerenciar o trabalho e racionalizar a dinâmica das cidades pelo mundo. No caso os motoristas, a incerteza os atinge mais de perto. Trata-se de pagar as contas do mês e sobreviver por mais um dia. Trata-se de sentimentos de medo, desamparo, esperança, resiliência, orgulho e cansaço.

Já faz tempo que os motoristas estão cientes de como a precariedade constitui seu cotidiano, e lutam para fazer a diferença, organizando-se em associações, organizando protestos e buscando conversa e tanto com representantes do poder público, quanto levando propostas à própria Uber. Tarifas mais altas e mais segurança estão no topo de sua lista de demandas. Por enquanto, não enxergam nenhum sinal de melhores condições no horizonte do retorno à “normalidade”. Alguns argumentam que este é, na verdade, o momento certo para fazerem com que suas vozes sejam escutadas — “mas tem gente que é cega e continua trabalhando se arriscando por esmolas”, lamenta um motorista na publicação de Samuel. Enquanto a incerteza se agiganta, a urgência parece falar mais alto. Pergunto a Giacomo qual a maior necessidade dos motoristas no momento. Sem hesitação, ele me diz: “o que precisamos é de corridas. Precisamos de corridas”.

What happens when the digital city encounters large-scale disasters and pandemics like COVID-19? This article analyzes the case of São Paulo, Brazil, to illustrate how the pandemic contributes to emphasize a broad spectrum of inequalities. In the largest metropolis in Latin America, the population lives with a strong disparity of socioeconomic and cultural conditions, at the same time marginalized groups in the city survive amid the greatest risks of the pandemic, with precarious conditions of access and use of the Internet. As a result, an “inequality virus” emerges out of the pandemic.

Leia em Português

By Larissa G. de Magalhães

 Over the last two decades, the proliferation of digital technologies has supported an ambitious process of digitalization of complex urban ecosystems, including those of megacities like São Paulo (Brazil). But what happens when this trend clashes with large-scale disasters and pandemics like COVID-19? These moments of intense crisis represent a turning point in the governance of urban habitats, exposing the urgency of data-based responsiveness supported by advances in technology.

During crisis situations, analytical tools and data learning techniques can support decision makers with large swaths of data, for example by triggering alerts and helping governments to identify the main front lines. However, in the developing world large sectors of the population remain excluded from the digital sphere, and even government-led open data projects can lead to the under-representation of certain groups. As many of these countries become increasingly active online, it is likely that inequalities, including the digital divide, will jeopardize attempts to use data to improve the life quality of citizens. The inequality patterns of megacities, in particular, reveal that social, economic, cultural and digital inequalities are still a severe challenge in defining the best strategies to combat crises affecting the whole population.

This article looks at the case of São Paulo, Brazil—the most populous city of the Americas with its 12 million inhabitants—to explore how the opportunities for access and use of the Internet at the core of the project of the digital city follow the pattern of structural inequalities, ultimately contributing to further reinforce them. These inequalities most severely affect households and families in the most peripheral and poorest areas of the city.

Digital segregation and the city

During emergencies, decision makers can be inundated with data. According to the OECD (2019), however, data gaps caused by extant inequalities can create problems for those affected by policies created by incomplete or underrepresentative data bases. Another problem is the use of automated systems to collect data, especially from groups that may have a less reliable label than the majorities due to the “embedded” presence in the network.

As decision-making based on missing data can neglect the poverty lines drawn in the urban landscape, it may trigger higher survival costs in areas already marked by social segregation. It is during large-scale emergencies like COVID-19 that these data gaps become particularly problematic because inequalities drive the underprivileged to the highest risk level for the virus and lead to the worst socioeconomic consequences of the pandemic.

The digital geography of the country indicates a panorama of inequalities in relation to Internet use, although in the last 15 years Internet access has reached 70% of households. On the one hand, Brazil has made progress in creating laws, standards, policies and practices designed to open data, such as the creation of the National Open Data Infrastructure, the Access to Information Law, the Civil Framework of the Internet, Open Data Policy, Data Governance Policy, Digital Government Strategy and the implementation of the 4th National Plan of Partnership with the Open Government Partnership  . On the other hand, however, there remains a digital stratification in the country that coincides with inequalities in income distribution, and which is reflected in the scarce ability to be an active part in the digital economy and formal data production. The cost of broadband is another factor that affects inequalities in access, with rural areas being penalized; in addition, levels of digital literacy and accessibility of the Internet are low.

In the metropolitan region of São Paulo, which counts 12 million inhabitants, connectivity is higher than the average national , reaching 79 percent of households. Connectivity alone, however, is not enough to ensure that people can benefit from the Internet. In addition, the Internet is relevant when people have the skills and confidence to use it. In São Paulo, opportunities for access and use of the Internet appear segregated in the urban territory, following the pattern of existing structural inequalities. This suggests that in the case of São Paulo inequalities related to the digital realm are conditioned by the matrix of vulnerabilities that affect households and families in the urban territory, where the patterns observed reproduce intra-urban inequalities.

The “inequality virus”                                                         

Against this backdrop, the pandemic exacerbates existing inequalities. A closer look at inequality and Internet access shows how the outskirts of São Paulo are the epicenter for the spread of another virus alongside COVID-19, which we may call the “inequality virus”. Data from the independent research group COVID-19 Observatory indicate that in the city people of color are 62 percent more likely to die than white individuals. If we look at the map of confirmed or suspected coronavirus deaths in the districts of São Paulo, there is a clear overlap of inequalities, that is, the broader the social vulnerability matrix, the highest the lethality of the virus. The risk of death from COVID-19 is higher in the East, North and part of the Southeast regions, which is also where the districts with the highest number of COVID-19 deaths are: Brasilândia and Sapopemba, among the least developed districts of the city.

Otherwise, a large part of the South, Midwest and Southeast regions, with an higher per capita income, currently have standardized mortality rates below the municipal average. However, housing conditions are an extremely relevant factor, since central neighborhoods that concentrate tenements, pensions and homeless people have a significant number of deaths. In sum, the home address contributes to defining the impact of the coronavirus, its severity and lethality, as it is indicative of other persistent, destructive inequalities.

According to the Municipal Health Department, as of April 30, there was a 45 percent increase in deaths in the city’s 20 poorest districts. The number might also reflect the discrepant distribution of intensive care units in the city, since 60 percent of the beds in the Public Health System are concentrated in the richest and most central regions of the city.

Towards a post COVID-19 socio-digital regime

But what does the near future bear for megacities like São Paulo ? A new approach to data-based governance, that we may call a socio-digital regime, is likely to be extended to the Souths. The pandemic showed how we are experiencing a new social order, which combines resources that facilitate physical access to information and communication technologies – Internet access infrastructure, and digital skills and abilities at the individual level. These combinations generate digital capital. Since governments do not create policies or incentives for access infrastructure or digital literacy, there is an emptying of digital capital. This deficit is driven by the structural inequalities that characterize a socio-digital regime. In particular, in the race to create surveillance platforms for epidemics and emergency forecasting systems, artificial intelligence (AI) systems “produce” political evidence projected from the aggregation of the so-called big data and other forms of government-produced information. However, marginalized groups and the digitally excluded continue to survive within the margins imposed by socio-digital regimes. The risk of reproducing and perpetuating inequalities in the highly technological environments of the future is real and should not be underestimated. Marginalized groups survive in a complex matrix of vulnerabilities, ranging from economic, social, and legal to the cultural, digital and political dimensions. The risk is that missing data or even misused data will become yet another by-product of inequality.

Several studies indicate that marginalized groups produce less data, as they are not involved in data generation activities, are not represented in the formal economy, have unequal access and less capacity to get involved online. Therefore, while more data is available to design policies and solutions, and for policy makers to include historically excluded social demands and groups, the data ends up reproducing the patterns of discrimination and exclusion present in the digital world, resulting in potentially discriminatory public policies. That is, having a lot of data does not necessarily mean that data is representative and reliable or that governments can use it.

So what can the pattern of inequality observed in megacities like Sao Paulo tell us about the future of the impending socio-digital regimes? Reducing inequalities in urban centers is a global challenge, especially in the current context in which data and technologies are coupled with potential emergency solutions resulting from developments such as climate change, technological disasters and pandemics. But inequalities in access and use of the Internet reveals the continued importance of the struggle for rights and access to quality goods, services and opportunities.

Although multiple inequalities coexist, the lights cast by digital inequalities reflect the lack of effective and efficient public policies for all. The digital world reproduces the business models of the physical economy, reinforcing existing gaps in access to benefits. It is hoped that the end of isolation will also be the end of the isolation of the poor, black and misfits in the cities. Cities are engaging in the construction of solutions for the aftermth of COVID-19, which invites  intervention in education, health, infrastructure, participation, collaboration and public transparency. Building digital capabilities and shared responsibility must be a lasting feature of governments in cities.

 

About the author

Larissa is a PhD in Political Science, Unicamp, a young researcher and consultant in public policy, governance and open data. She is Associate Researcher for Post-Doctorate, CyberBRICS Program, at the Getúlio Vargas Foundation Law School, and analyzes the infrastructure of internet access, digital policies, impacts of technologies and innovation in developing countries and the global south through the lens socio-digital inequalities.

 

 

 

 

 

by Erinne Paisley

During the COVID-19 global pandemic, we have all had to make signification adjustments to our daily lives. One of these is reading more news. This news contains an endless stream of data and it has been up to government bodies, health organizations, and journalists to sort through this data and create visuals for us to understand it.

These visualizations are critical for us to sort through the constant noise of data that the pandemic has created. COVID-19 has created a trend of data visualizing. However, like any other form of data visualizations, COVID-19 images such as “flatten the curve” are not completely objective. Data visualizations make visible certain perspectives and experiences, empowering and disempowering certain demographics. In the case of womxn, especially womxn of colour, historically these experiences have not been included. “Womxn” is used as an alternative to the English word “women” to include non-cisgender women.

A 2016 analysis of the Ebola and Zika global health emergencies explains: ‘The combination of pre-existing biological and socio-cultural factors means that while the health status of populations as a whole deteriorates during complex humanitarian crisis, women and children are especially vulnerable.’

D’Ignazio and Klein offer the term “feminist data visualizations” to describe those data visualizations that make visible women’s perspectives and experiences – and empower through this. Feminist data visualization is still not the mainstream way of sorting and presenting data. When it comes to data handling surrounding the COVID-19 pandemic, in March 2020 Wenham et al. explained that they:“are not aware of any gender analysis of the outbreak by global health institutions or governments in affected countries or in preparedness phases”.

As of early April 2020, many non-profits such as Plan International as well as academic think tanks like the Centre for Feminist Foreign Policy have begun to offer support for womxn’s rights during the COVID-19 pandemic. Journalists, such as Helen Lewis of The Atlantic with her popular article “The Coronavirus Is a Disaster for Feminism”, have also highlighted the experience of womxn. However, the lack of feminist data visualizations is evident.

To encourage and explore the importance of feminist data visualizations amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, I will look to two examples of female perspectives and experiences during this time, exploring specifically the pandemic’s impact on increased rates of domestic violence and decreased rates of global female education. I will also zoom in on examples of past feminist data visualizations of these two topics that could be used as jumping off points for health institutions and governments to conduct similar work during COVID-19.

Increased Rates of Domestic Violence

Domestic violence, also referred to as “intimate partner violence (IPV)”, is a “pattern of behaviors used by one partner to maintain power and control over another partner in an intimate relationship”. Domestic violence is the most prevalent type of violence against womxn and, because of this, has been categorized by many scholars as a “global pandemic” of its own. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), 1 in 3 women around the world have experienced physical or sexual intimate partner violence.

This global public health problem has historically been unaddressed. This is because the “home” was regarded as “private” until the second wave of the feminist movement in the 1960s and ‘70s. During this feminist wave, slogans like “the personal is political”, created by Carol Hanisch, encouraged accountability for womxn’s rights both in the public and private realm. This included addressing issues such as the allocation of duties within the household, domestic violence, as well as other social and legal rights within womxn’s “private” lives.

During widespread public emergencies in the past, there has been a clear association between these events and rising rates of domestic abuse. For instance, after the New Zealand “Canterbury” earthquake in 2010, there was recorded 53% rise in domestic violence. Following Hurricane Katrina in the United States, there was also a near doubling in domestic violence rates in the affected areas.

Existing Feminist Data Visualization’s of Domestic Violence

In 2009, researchers at Harvard University created a computer model that automatically detects at-risk patients for domestic abuse. This program sorts through huge amounts of medical data from U.S. hospital emergency visits and creates data visualizations referred to as “risk gel” visuals for physicians to view. The bars are the patient’s medical history, specifically visits to a medical practitioner, colour coded based on the historical association of these injuries to domestic abuse.

This visualization of data allows for further prevention and attention to cases of domestic abuse by physicians. It is a form of feminist data visualization as it challenges the binary of one single visit to a doctor being marked as evidence of domestic abuse or not and instead tracks multiple visits on a scale of injury to create more narrative evidence of this abuse. This example of feminist data visualization may not be something that can be used directly to identify those at-risk of increased domestic violence cases during COVID-19 quarantining, but it serves as a strong example of how feminist data visualizations can reveal hidden narratives within existing data and support womxn’s rights.

At-Home Education Effect on Womxn

Most data visualizations of the COVID-19 pandemic mark the end of its effects as the eradication of the virus itself. Although this will be a significant turning point in the pandemic’s trajectory, from a feminist perspective this is in no way where the effects of the virus end – instead, where they begin.

As of April 2020, over 91 percent  of the worlds student population has had to stay home from school (UNESCO 2020). Following historical trends, the role of educating children in the home will fall on a majority womxn. Traditionally, womxn are still those who worldwide take the societal principle responsibility for children. This increased responsibility in the home may lead to detrimental effects for womxn’s own careers once pandemic-related quarantine has ended as male counterparts will have advanced further during the quarantine period due to less homeschool responsibilities.

Female children around the world face additional barriers to their educational, and eventually professional, progressions. Feminist data studies on the 2014 Ebola epidemic found that womxn still often have less decision-making power than men which results in less female students returning to school once the institutions are re-opened. Global studies have also shown that the longer a child is out of school the more likely they are to not return.

One of the main reasons for girl’s not returning to school is the increased rate of unwanted and transactional sex. A study by the United Nations Development Programme on the Ebola epidemic showed that teenage pregnancies in some communities of Sierra Leone went up by 65 percent because of school closures and increased sexual assault at home.

Feminist Data Visualization: Female Education Rates

In 2018, a number of American researchers experimented with data visualization as part of the annual February celebration of Black History. This challenge to “#VisualizeDiversity” resulted in a feminist data visualization submitted to the project by a researcher named “Sharon”, in 2018. The visualization took the data from the United States’ Department of Education fourth grade basic reading skills and re-organized the data.

The presentation of the data above shows a hidden narrative, that most minorities in America struggle to read at grade level and, more broadly, that there are systemic barriers that prevent these minorities from excelling in this way. This data visualization shows the potential of feminist data visualizations to reveal a narrative that the initial sorting of data may not have focused on. By re-sorting the data to focus on minority status, the data now goes beyond the categories of “literate” and “illiterate” and begins to show the multiplicity of reasons for these literacy levels. As well, the data visualization now acknowledges the historical exclusion of these marginalized groups in traditional hierarchical power structures.

Conclusions  

The COVID-19 global pandemic has led to a larger consumption of data visualizations. It is clear that data visualizations are needed not just for an understanding of the crisis at hand, but as instructions for what actions are the most crucial to take. The most viral data visualizations attached to the pandemic to date have focused on the spread of the virus itself – including images such as the “Flatten the Curve” and its accompanying #stayhome social media campaign. We must continue to question the objectivity of these viral data visualizations asking questions such as: When the curve ends – is this really the end of the pandemic’s impact? Is #stayhome really helping everyone stay safe?

So far, viral COVID-19 pandemic data visualizations have focused on a narrow perspective and largely exclude the experience and risks for womxn around the world. However, this also creates an opportunity for feminist data visualizations to rise in popularity. The world is watching for data visualizations, asking how to help, and supporting one another. It’s time to include womxn in this.

 

If you, or a womxn you know, are in need of immediate support during the COVID-19 pandemic, please consult the list of resources across Europe on the Women Lobby website.

 

About the author

Erinne Paisley is a current Research Media Masters student at the University of Amsterdam and completed her BA at the University of Toronto in Peace, Conflict and Justice & Book and Media Studies. She is the author of three books on social media activism for youth with Orca Book Publishing.

If a little bit of power is enough to show how someone really is, a global pandemic strips states as they are, shading light on their failings: transparency in the case of China, a smooth coordination between the national and the sub-national powers in Italy, or a guaranteed access to medical assistance for every citizen in the United States, to name a few. Argentina does not have an authoritarian China-alike system, nor the unpractical bureaucracy of Italy, and the public hospitals are open for everyone, as opposed to the US. So, what are the problems that Argentina is facing? What is the reason why the end of the lockdown is being constantly postponed, when countries like Spain or Belgium are already starting to regain some kind of normality?

 

by Nicolás Fuster

After taking office last December and as soon as the summer holidays ended in February, the government of Argentina had a rather abrupt end of the honeymoon. The pandemic had started on the other side of the globe. Then, it appeared in Europe. But for some reason, the news of the sudden arrival took the Argentine authorities by surprise. ‘I did not believe that the virus would arrive this soon’, the Minister of Health stated on the 9^th of March.

Ten days later, the President, Alberto Fernández, ordered a total quarantine. The decision found a wide consensus among the oppositions and the citizens, that used social media to foster the observance of the quarantine through the hashtag #QuedateEnCasa (‘Stay home’). Like people in many other countries, Argentines learnt to bake bread and cook cakes through Instagram and several famous musicians such as Pedro Aznar and Kevin Johansen performed live from their houses through Instagram or Facebook to help soothe the situation. Some of these home-made concerts reached peaks of almost 190.000 visualizations. As days went by, people also used social media, mainly through the hashtag #ArgentinaAplaude on Twitter, to organise for signing the national hymn and to cheer the medical staff with massive applauses during the evenings.

Mr. Fernández’s image was remarkably high, the NYTimes reported. He held several press conferences together with the mayor of Buenos Aires, who belongs to an opposition party, and this dialogue and agreement between them was appreciated by the citizenry, even if the long-term polarization does not seem to disappear. Following a statement to the governments by the UNHR High Commissioner, Michelle Bachelet, on the health and security of prisoners, by the end of April the news reported that because of COVID-19, some prisoners could leave the penitentiaries, which are often overcrowded, and which hygiene conditions are extremely poor. The possibility of giving house arrest to a number of prisoners, many of which were sex offenders and would have been sent close to their victims, if not the very same house, triggered a tough answer from the public opinion, and a strong cacerolazo (pot banging, an Argentine protesting method emerged during the crisis of 2001) was heard in the main cities on the 30^th of April. The response was truly intense, and Human Rights Watch stated that despite the reaction was understandable, sending prisoners to their places as a temporary measure does not mean to release them.

Impatience
Despite the calm style of the President, the sting of many announcements of the quarantine being extended started to unsettle many. Argentina has almost a half of its workers in the informal sector, and a number of them are day laborers, meaning that they buy provisions with their meagre daily earning. After a good initial answer to the measures by the authorities, it started to be clear that the quarantine was not an option for many, especially in the suburbs.

Argentina has a rather openness tradition and could not be labelled as a xenophobic country. However, due to COVID-19 (and to confused people), aggressions towards Asians and Italians were reported. Moreover, Argentines either infected or suspected to be infected received threatening messages through social media, where fake profiles were created in order to bully and insult some of the presumed infected.

Education
Teachers are laboriously organising classes through videos, WhatsApp and online platforms.

In order to supply the lack of classes, the Government sent a bill to the Congress for allowing teaching from afar. The bill was easily approved by the lower house and will be soon voted in the Senate. In April, the Ministry of Education announced the distribution of booklets as teaching material, co-financed with UNICEF, for students in vulnerable situations. Few days later, Carla Carrizo, an opposition MP, noticed that the booklets had a strong political content in favour of the national Government and detrimental to the other parties. 18 million booklets, that costed around € 4.000.000. “The first one to be educated should be the Ministry of Education. Instead of indoctrinating kids, we should be discussing how to raise critical minds”, Mrs Carrizo said. This was rejected by some media, for instance in this article.

The app
Like in other countries, the Argentine authorities launched an app for mobile phones, called CuidAr (‘To take care’, with a capital A that then combines ‘to take care’ with Argentina). The app has a triple function: allowing to self-diagnose, tracking the user and processing the circulation permission. At the beginning it was told that the app would be mandatory, later it was told that it would be mandatory in some provinces. This provoked some criticisms from experts, especially on Twitter. One of these, programmer and activist Javier Smaldone, said that the Government has not yet provided the source code nor the back-end in the server. Another IT expert, Maximiliano Firtman, argued that apart from not working well, the app lacks of the basic security standards: it is rather easy to pretend to be someone else, there is no option to edit nor revise the information and the Government could share the data with third parts, among other points. Eventually, the authorities decided not to make the app mandatory, but to leave it as it is.

Improvisation
During the last press conference where a new extension of the quarantine was announced, Mr Fernández said that ‘the quarantine will last for as long as needed’. When asked about the anxiety and anguish the lockdown could have on the people, the President, visibly irritated, replied that ‘what is distressing is getting infected’. This unleashed the controversy over the emotional aspect of the people during lockdown, the stress of the uncertainty of workers and owners of SMEs or the women who suffer domestic violence.

New cases of SARS-CoV-2 were recently reported in the so-called villas, the Argentine equivalent to Brazilian favelas, such as Villa Itatí, in the suburb of Buenos Aires, where 1/10 tests were positive. Within the capital city, this article shows that the cases of COVID-19 in the precarious settlements is 1/3 of the total cases. There is a number of extremely poor urban areas, where families live in the very same room, where social distancing is not an option, where alcohol hand gel is not a widely known item.

By mid-April, the WHO placed Argentina among the countries with less tests for COVID-19.

If, as argued, the first reaction of the authorities was appropriate, the last movements show some idea of improvisation. This sheds light on the fact that the decision of the quarantine should have been taken with a reopening plan, that after two months the Government does not seem to have.

“Comunitarism”
The lockdown and the delicate economic situation of the country, that has a 54 percent annual inflation rate, hit the most vulnerable. As soon as the quarantine started, Mosquito Sancineto, an actor and drama teacher of the underground scene of Avenida Corrientes -the porteña Broadway Av.-, set up Artistas Solidarios (Caring Artists), an NGO that receives donations, prepares bags with several items such as food for two weeks and cleaning products and distributes them among artists, that cannot work because of COVID-19.

Adriana Yasky, who is in charge of the logistics, says: ‘We have a bank account and we receive donations of $ 500 or $ 1.000 (€ 5 / € 10), sometimes more. We asked a nutritionist to prepare a list of foodstuffs, so we know that what we provide is healthy. We also give bleach and soap. In addition, we provide psychological support by volunteer professionals. A little idea of Mosquito is getting to be noticed thanks to social media: many famous artists such as Carla Peterson, who has over one million followers on Instagram, did a live with us. Others, like cartoonist Maitena, sent us their support. We have been contacted by other artists in the rest of the country who want to help, hence Artistas Solidarios is now working also in Mar del Plata. We use social media for everything: for asking for donations, for letting artists know that we are here to help. I am the one who reads the messages, then I make a table of the distribution, according to the requests of the week. A group goes to the wholesale supermarket and prepare the bags, and the guys with the cars deliver them. Donations are precious so we must spend wisely. We were lucky to find volunteers that, because of their jobs, hold the circulation permission! We deliver more than 100 bags each Saturday, and the number is increasing and increasing. All of this would be impossible without social media and WhatsApp.”

Digital activism
On the 3^rd of June 2015, there was the first massive demonstration against violence against women in Argentina, where Twitter, Facebook and Instagram played a role under the slogan #NiUnaMenos (‘Not one less’). Since then, the movement increased and crossed borders in Argentina and Latin America. It also arrived in Spain and Italy, under the slogan #NonUnaDiMeno. After five years of the first rally in Argentina, on this #3J digital platforms were essential again: activists launched a ruidazo (‘big noise’) mainly on Twitter and Instagram.

Next
So far, Argentines have followed the rules and have also shown creativity and respect. Now, the improvisation phase should be over. If politics have a vision, it ought to perform like actors do after months of rehearsing, when they know what the next scene will be like, when and how the play is going to finish.

 

About the author
Nicolás Fuster holds a BA in Politics and International Relations (University of Rome). He is currently writing his MSc thesis on voters of populist parties (University of Amsterdam). He intermittently writes for Argentine and Spanish newspapers.

 

Does the COVID-19 pandemic mark the birth of a new form of biopolitics? The Latin American case shows important departures from Europe and the United States, both in the adoption of surveillance technologies and in the types of biopolitical control enacted through them.

by Silvio Waisbord and María Soledad Segura

As the first pandemic in the datafied society, the COVID-19 pandemic offers an opportunity to reassess debates about digital communication and governability. At the core of these debates is the interest in understanding particular aspects of digital biopolitics – the ambitious efforts by governments and corporations to maximize knowledge and control of populations for political and economic power, as well as the vulnerability of democratic rights such as privacy and the right to know. In a recent article, Stefan Ecks (2020) concludes “we have never seen biopolitics on such a scale. 2020 is the birth year of radical biopolitics.”

Given our longstanding interest in the datafied society in Latin America, we are interested in assessing the applicability in the region of arguments about contemporary biopolitics in Europe and the United States. Even if it is early to draw categorical conclusions given that we are in the middle of the pandemic and its evolution and aftermath are unpredictable, there are indications that the current situation in the region does not match recent conclusions about the escalation of biopolitics.

At the time of this writing, Latin America has become the new epicenter of the pandemic with growing number of reported cases of infections and deaths. Various governments in Latin America (Perú, Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Ecuador, México, Colombia and Brasil) and the Inter-American Development Bank have deployed digital technologies to control the transmission of the virus and to support testing and tracing. They have collaborated with private companies and universities in setting up mobile applications for geolocalizing and contact-tracing possibly infected people. Expectedly, these actions have raised concerns about the negative impact of massive surveillance.

However, while we recognize the legitimacy of these concerns, the problem in Latin America takes different dimensions than in Europe, North America, and East Asia. For the moment, the governments in the region have significant problems to launch and maintain massive digital surveillance apparatuses. What stands in the way of pandemic-driven biopolitics is not a firm official commitment to protecting personal data or to balancing public health objectives and democratic rights. The obstacles are rather technological and institutional, namely, poor reach and limited effectiveness of digital and mobile technologies as well as deep-seated problems of state performance in terms of governmentality and the provision of health services in the region.  

Various factors shape biopolitics: government objectives, adequate bureaucratic systems to manage large-scale operations, accountability and transparency of mechanisms and policies, the reliability of digital platforms, and the current conditions of epidemiological surveillance in each country. None of these aspects in Latin America are comparable to the situation in most countries in the global North.  

Most national health systems suffer from chronic and severe deficits in the provision of services and the monitoring of populations. Health systems traditionally underserved large swaths of the population and have been chronically underfunded and unequal. Also, they have lacked effective government administrative systems to set up, conduct, and maintain massive monitoring based on health and other personal data. Underreported health data is common; in some countries such as Nicaragua, Perú and Venezuela, health authorities have not bothered even to report basic epidemiological data. Underreporting of cases is widely suspected. It is hard to imagine that suddenly health systems in combination with other government agencies would be set up well-lubricated apparatuses. Take, for example, the decision by Brazil’s President Jair Bolsonaro to terminate the agreement between telecommunications companies and the Ministry of Science, Technology, Innovation and Communication to provide information on mobile phones related to geographic location and mobilization. The decision was driven by Bolsonaro’s reckless pandemic policy than to concerns about data protection. His government has had an appalling performance since the beginning of the pandemic and it has flatly dismissed concerns raised by health experts (including his former Ministry of Health Nelson Teich) and the World Health Organization.

Official disinterest in mobilizing digital technologies to control the pandemic pales in comparison to the way that police, military and intelligence services in the region have historically approach communication and information technologies for securitization. Since the early decades of the 20^th century until recent military dictatorships and contemporary democracies, governments have developed surveillance technologies to control populations, often with funding and technical support from foreign countries. Recently, governments in various countries, including Colombia, Mexico, and Guatemala, have beefed up surveillance technologies to spy on critics including human rights activists, politicians and journalists. Nowhere in the region did national governments show comparable interest in incorporating digital technologies to maximize biopolitics. The differences are quite telling and show different priorities and approaches to surveillance and population management.     

Another difference is that digital technologies do not provide significant results without a high rate of adoption of contact tracing and geo-localization applications via cell phones. Their usefulness to contribute to control the pandemic would be quite limited due to technological limitations, namely, the restricted availability of high-end cell phone equipment with Bluetooth and GPS and the unequal infrastructure of cell coverage in the region. Also, a well-functioning digital system would require relatively updated mobile phones, which is not the case among vast numbers of people, as civil society organization such as Derechos Digitales and Fundación Sadosky have observed. According to 2010 data, between 65 and 85% of households own mobile phones in Latin American countries, except for Cuba and Venezuela where numbers are lower. Although a more recent survey shows that 89% of Latin Americans have a cell phone and 47% a smartphone are used with prepaid plans. In addition, mobile phone services in many countries, such as Mexico, Argentina, Brazil, Colombia and Venezuela, are the targets of frequent complaints for poor quality, according to consumer rights protection associations.

Also, current health applications use considerable battery power and memory space, which would reduce people’s willingness to use them. That is why Apple and Google, the two largest providers of operating systems for cell phones, joined forces to address this issue. Nonetheless, it is not clear yet whether digital corporations will make certain applications available in older mobile phones which are common in the region. Finally, application malfunctions during the somewhat chaotic launch of COVID-19 in several countries have discouraged people from using them. Due to poor design, applications had many vulnerabilities. This was the case in Argentina in the province of San Luis, where national identity documents (including the processing code that is an authentication factor and the photo) were leaked, and in Buenos Aires where it is possible to access to the date of birth and address of any citizen.

In summary, the pandemic has prompted state-directed plans for monitoring COVID-19 prevalence in partnerships with digital corporations and universities, but their results are uncertain at the moment. It is not clear that they would achieve expected results. The obstacle is not a strong culture of privacy and data protection, but rather, chronic problems in government agencies to ensure that health systems have ample and quality coverage coupled with weak and uneven commitment to addressing the pandemic. In countries with serious infrastructure problems and insufficient funding for health services, it would have been surprising if governments had actively promoted data tracking to inform healthcare research and policy and fix intractable problems. Indeed, the spotty record of health systems in the region in responding to dengue, zika, Chagas and other infectious disease outbreaks in recent years suggests that government negligence and lethargy are not conducive to deploying massive digital-based monitoring and interventions.  

Knowing the scope of the disease implies collecting massive amounts of data on populations, improving reporting systems, and deploying state-of-the-art technologies – all tasks that demand the kind of government commitment that has been notoriously lacking in health systems in the region. Biopolitics assumes the willingness of states to know and roll out systems to track and control populations. On health matters, Latin American states have largely lacked the political will as well as human, economic and technical resources to know and act.

 

About the authors

Silvio Waisbord s a professor in the School of Media and Public Affairs at the George Washington University, USA.

María Soledad Segura is the director of the research team Sociedad civil y democratización de la comunicación y la cultura, Universidad Nacional de Córdoba, Argentina.

The Peruvian tragedies are manifold. This blog post directs attention to one in particular related to the matter of counting during the pandemic. Although most of the debate focuses on how governments count the infected and the deceased, this post reflects on how the Peruvian state counts the living to protect their wellbeing – and how it fails to do so.

by Diego Cerna Aragon

The World Health Organization has recently declared that South America is the new epicenter of the COVID-19 pandemic. Peru has the second largest number of registered infections in the region and is second only to Brazil, which however has almost seven times the population of Peru. Initially, the Peruvian government was lauded for its swift response and the implementation strict measures to halt the transmission of the virus. More recently, however, the country has been featured on the international press as a place where the expansion of the disease simply cannot be contained, despite the harsh restrictions imposed from early on. Stories of inner massive displacements and testimonies of the employment of Venezuelan immigrants to pick up dead bodies give an idea of how Peru is currently dealing with the pandemic.

Targeting in the midst of a pandemic

On March 19th – three days after decreeing a national state of emergency and quarantine – the Peruvian government announced that it was going to distribute a 380 soles subsidy (approximately 110 USD) to vulnerable households. The idea behind this plan was to offer some economic relief to people who had to stop working given the emergency measures. In a country where over 70 percent of the labor force is in the informal sector – meaning these workers are not included in any state or company payrolls and rely on self-employment and/or casual gigs – enforcing a quarantine meant that the majority of the working population had to give up its daily income and way of life.

The database from which the vulnerable household information was retrieved is in the hands of the Household Targeting System (SISFOH). As it was originally used to target poor and extremely poor households for the provision of social welfare benefits, this database was deemed by state officials capable to provide accurate information about which households would need financial assistance during the quarantine. Quickly, the public de turned into a debate of economic definitions: what is the meaning of being vulnerable? Who should be included in the registry to receive government assistance? As part of a well-disciplined neoliberal state, Peruvian national government agencies always strive to keep any kind of social spending as streamlined as possible. Yet as days went by, it became clear that the more than two million households initially targeted were not the only ones requiring assistance. Consequently, the government announced a new subsidy on March 26th, this time targeting “independent workers”.

The SISFOH database has one defining characteristic: it usually works under an on-demand logic. This means that unless a household requests to be evaluated to receive social welfare benefits, the system assigns a default socioeconomic classification based on cross-referencing information from other databases, such as census, property registry, and electricity consumption. Under normal circumstances, households in urban areas that do not request evaluation are not included amongst the recipients of social welfare benefits. In cases where a household requests to be evaluated, on the other hand, incertitude is the rule. Neither the applicants nor the local bureaucrats who work for the system know exactly how it operates, given that the classification algorithm is opaque to them. According to technocrats from the national government, this feature is intended to curb possible attempts to game the system. In the exceptional context of the pandemic, however, the government decided to test the accuracy of the database to target households in need. Unfortunately, it failed to provide a broad enough safety net. Later on, the government realized its mistake and the Minister of Development and Social Inclusion (MIDIS) announced that eventually it would have to change methods and start actively evaluating households.

The failure to provide a lifeline to people in need did not go without consequences. By mid-April, a month after the quarantine began, people started leaving Lima, Peru’s capital and most populated city, because a thirty-days wait, they had not received any state assistance. They had depleted their savings, could no longer pay their rents, and were evicted by their landlords. Without anywhere to sleep and any money to buy food, many Peruvians started walking back to their hometowns in the countryside, given that all long-distance transportation was banned due to the emergency measures.

Additionally, another critical issue surfaced related to subsidy distribution. Given that less than 40percent of the adult population is integrated in the Peru’s banking system, a large portion of people could not receive the subsidy in a bank account. Rather, people had to go to bank offices to receive the subsidy in cash. Furthermore, many were confused about the multiple subsidy announcements made by the government and, given their uncertain situations, people went to the banks simply to inquire if they were going to receive subsidies. As later recognized by the government, the large concentration of people in banks proved to be a major vehicle of transmission for the novel coronavirus.

After repeated demands in social media, the government announced a new “universal” subsidy on April 23rd. Despite the name, the subsidy was not really universal. As President Martin Vizcarra explained, the distribution of this subsidy would be determined through “reverse targeting.” Still relying in part on the SISFOH database, this subsidy was projected to reach every household that did not have a member on state or company payrolls – 6.8 million households in total. Instead of acknowledging the limitations of targeting and opting for an actual universal subsidy, the government insisted on streamlining its social spending. On May 25th– 32 days after the announcement of the universal subsidy and 71 days after the quarantine started – the government indicated that so far 3.4 million households had received a subsidy, making it only half of the 6.8 million goal.

As it may be clear by now, the main problem of the Peruvian government is not the availability of funding – as every time authorities announce a new subsidy, they commit to increasing their spending. The main problem, this article argues, is leaders’ stubbornness in addressing the consequences of a public health crisis using technologies devised for poverty alleviation programs. Targeting technologies are designed to restrain spending, they are created to filter people. Moreover, in the case of the weak Peruvian state, they rely on irregular practices of information collection. Even before the pandemic, applicants to social welfare benefits and local bureaucrats complained about the stringent reasoning of the system and how its tools (e.g., forms) failed to grasp the material precarity experience by the citizens. A technocratic asset – the supposed rigorousness of the algorithmic method – was a woe for those in need. In short, these are technologies that, by design and implementation, render some people invisible.

Being visible in the Global South

Creative minds in the Western cultural industry have been prolific producers of dystopian fictions where state-like actors know every little detail about every member of the population. The case of Peru is quite the opposite: it is a state which barely knows its population. With tragic consequences, in particular in the middle of a pandemic. What we have witnessed – “invisible” people who do not receive any assistance from the state, walking for days to return to their hometowns, without having something to eat, without knowing if they are carriers of a deadly virus – seems like a real nightmare scenario.

Liberal anxieties in the Global North – sometimes rapidly adopted by educated elites in developing countries – have focused academics attention largely on issues of privacy. What terrifies them is being identified by state actors, probably because they do not want to be treated as their governments regularly treat the minorities in their countries. We already hear warnings on how everyone should be afraid of a “Chinese model” of surveillance, as if China was the only country to surveil its citizens. We will probably never see a protest sign reading “We want to be visible to the state!” And yet, millions of persons worldwide belong to the informal sector, a limbo-like domain where individuals participate in daily social and economic activities while not being completely integrated. This may function – precariously – as long as the economy keeps running but as soon as it stops – like during a quarantine – the downfall is catastrophic. Without being part of a state registry the help cannot arrive, at least not in an adequate and timely fashion.

In a context where many of the deaths remain unofficial and many people literally cannot eat because they are not counted, being visible to the state is a privilege.

About the author 

Diego Cerna Aragon is a graduate student at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the program of Comparative Media Studies, and a research assistant in the Global Media Technologies and Cultures Lab.