Picture this: the year is 1348, Europe is bustling with merchants, minstrels, and murmurings of plague. But instead of word spreading along sullenly by foot or horse, imagine the bubonic buzz transmitted via TikTok. Instead of waiting weeks, or even months, for news of the plague to drift lethargically from village to village, Europeans are treated to 15-second clips of dancing rats, melodramatic coughing duets, and controversial debates on infamous plague pits... dubbed over with catchy music tracks, of course.
The "PlagueTok" Phenomenon
Plague stories are the original binge-worthy narratives, but the uninterrupted scroll of PlagueTok would’ve brought a certain humour to the gloom and doom. Imagine viral videos of jesters in jestered masks doing the "Black Rat Snap" dance challenge, complete with instructional overlays teaching followers the eight-step shuffle to social distancing. Wouldn’t the phrase, "As seen on PlagueTok", make it into daily parlance?
They say that misfortune loves company, and with TikTok acting as a medieval marketplace of stories, the contagious laughs might well have gone viral faster than the actual contagion! Not to forget those intrepid medieval influencers, who’d utilise clever hashtags like #BubonicBoogie or #PestilenceParty to catch the eyeballs of a bored and quarantined populace.
Misinformation goes Viral
Of course, no exploration of social media's historical implications would be complete without addressing the spread of misinformation. Imagine Medieval Alain with dubious attributions, featuring claims that sniffing roses wards off plague spirits, getting as much airplay as reputable plague doctors like Nostradamus endorsing cleanliness.
The medieval version of clickbait: "Five Things You Didn't Know About Plague... Number Three Will Shock You!" would crownedly float over TikTok tendencies, while loyal fact checkers like Friar Factus keep the serfs and earls informed and entertained.
TikTok: The Tool Against Isolation
Perhaps one of the most powerful aspects of TikTok in the time of the plague would have been its role in connecting communities when physical interaction was as restricted as a woollen sack hair-shirt. The shared experiences on the platform could transform a world in which people were intensely shut off from one another into a virtual village square.
Imagine plague victims melodramatically showcasing their grivous bubo (triangulate the lighting just so, for maximum pathos) with humorous underlays tuned to chart-topping madrigals. Or villagers setting up a mock reality series, "In the Shire Tonight", live-streaming rats much like 21st-century raccoons rummaging through bin bags.
Rats in the Algorithm
One might ponder the role the rats would play – perhaps a venerated symbol of influencer culture, as it were; a rodent might become the accidental face of curbing misinformation (#notallrats). With algorithms curating our consumption, the question of plague, whether Black Death or the black mirror of our digital landscape, would morph from dread to discourse, feeding our feed.
Furthermore, the tablet-esque stone interfaces (if they existed to play TikTok back then) would add an element of dramatic flair not just of plague doctors balancing precariously on clapboards, but of the persistent "like" turned into a hearty medieval "huzzah!"
Conclusion: The Flea in the Room
While TikTok may not have had the power to stop the plague in its tracks, it might have put a more human face on this inhuman condition. By offering a smidgen of camaraderie through levity, even amidst pestilence, perhaps it would have led to a more unified front across villages and cities. The hashtag-worthy history ensures that our experiences of today unfold not unlike the tapestries of yesteryear: woven with tales, sprinkled with humour, stitched with stories that only a timewarp could tell. So, dear readers, if the next pandemic looms upon your social feeds, think back to our medieval brethren, dancing along awkwardly with imprinted imaginations, engaged in the age-old battle of laughter against the dark.
