Guns, Germs, & Steel

From shutting down schools to discouraging travel, the swine flu epidemic is forcing us "social animals" to the brink of isolationism. Worse, it is relentless and unmoved by the "hap-happiest season of all." These days, parents are stopping their children from sitting on Santa's lap for fear of his swiney sneeze. And as a self-proclaimed germaphobe, one part of me feels comfortable saying, "I told you so," and slamming the book shut. Sometimes, sharing can be dangerous and I just have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to tempting fate. We might as well maintain what little control we have of our lives, right?

Initially, the freshman dorm scene was especially difficult given my "condition." If you are scared of germs (your own and those of others), sharing living spaces with people you know and people you don't know (not sure which is worse) is a nightmare at best.

My dance team puts on an annual show every February. After the Saturday night show, we celebrate our hard work and a job well done at an after party with our friends. Last year, due to an outbreak of meningitis at our school, all parties were suspended the weekend of our show (the rationale being that parties encouraged drink-sharing). While my anger and disappointment were short-lived, a feeling of emptiness persisted. It almost felt as if nobody could be trusted. After all, even those without realized symptoms were potential carriers. I wanted nothing more than to go back home to my parents where I wouldn't have to worry about extended exposure to strangers and their illnesses.

This year, in the span of one week, four members of our team came down with illnesses ranging from flu-like symptoms to swine flu. Canceling practice as a way of separating ourselves from one another, I cursed the existence of contagions.

But in returning after the quarantine week, I was reminded that contagions are not always bad news. At rehearsal, my dance team spends hours on end making sure that every move, every look, every smile is coordinated across all dancers. It's ironic, though, that outside of practice, we are similar without even trying. We have similar ways of speaking, we make the same facial expressions, we use the same gestures. Our mannerisms catch on so fast that it's difficult to track the origin.

Actions are contagious. Be it a yawn or a smile, or something more profound.

It's a difficult idea to grasp, but the truth is, people have little control over their mimicking behavior, just like we have little control over whether or not we catch a virus once we are exposed to it. The chameleon effect is a phenomenon of social psychology that describes how humans involuntarily imitate the actions and expressions of their interaction partners. If you think that's surprising, nosh on this -- people who are mimicked by their interaction partners report liking them more than non-mimicking partners...and they don't consciously realize they are being mimicked.

It's not only actions. In college, we are always surrounded by people. We eat together. We study together. We live together. We start to share beliefs and lines of thinking. With some of my friends, all it takes is for our eyes to meet for us to understand what each other is thinking.

I'll be the first to admit that it's so much more than technology-based contagiousness. It's not just clicking "Share Article" on the New York Times Online or emailing out a link to a humorous YouTube video. It's the unspoken understanding of and compatibility with the people with whom you spend every waking hour.

Though I entered college dreading it's contagious nature, it will be the one aspect I miss when I leave. In the real world, it's all about doing your own thing. The work together-eat together-live together triumvirate is nonexistent. So while I'm here, I plan on exploiting the fact that smiles are contagious and laughter really is the best medicine.