Rumors of cell phone deaths greatly exaggerated
From Chris Pinney, UCL Anthropology and Northwestern University:
An Example of the New American Orientalism, but raises interesting questions of the materiality of transmission. William Mazzarella's "Internet X-Ray: E-Governance, Transparency and the Politics
of Immediation in India" Public Culture 18(3) Fall 2006 has an interesting analysis of new technologies and 'rumour' in South Asia.
See the following news story from the Chicago Tribune, (full story pasted in the 'continue reading' section for those of you who are not registered):
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0704260009apr26,1,6246569.story?ctrack=1&cset=true
LETTER FROM KARACHI
Rumors of cell phone deaths greatly exaggerated
Tales of a virus that kills with one call became the talk of Pakistan, the Tribune's Kim Barker writes
By Kim Barker
the Tribune's South Asia correspondent
April 26, 2007
KARACHI, Pakistan -- The rumor spread quickly, from the small town of Sialkot to the nation, from cell phone to cell phone, friend to friend. The text messages warned of a virus if people answered phone calls from certain numbers.
The virus would not hurt the phone. Instead, in a scene out of a horror movie, it would kill the recipient. Immediately.
"Plz ignore calls frm 0A9-888888 or with screen with dancing snake & changing colours its a deadly virus and in some regions of Pakistan death are being reported," began one message.
Another said: "it's a virus to kill a person. Plz it's not a joke it's damn serious virous."
In mid-April, these messages swamped Pakistani cell phone users, causing many to turn off their phones -- better safe than sorry -- and many others to grow frustrated that anyone could possibly believe the prank. Newspapers, television stations and cell phone companies were flooded with questions from worried consumers.
For Pakistanis who treat cell phones as a necessary appendage, this was serious. People talk on cell phones while watching a movie in the theater, while walking on a treadmill at the gym. Literate, illiterate, urban, rural, such distinctions did not matter. Even the skeptical seemed to know someone who knew someone who died from answering a cell phone or who had read about someone who died.
Shaukat Ali talked to a friend who saw it in the newspaper -- that a man dropped dead just after answering his mobile phone. "When he got the call, he died like he was poisoned," said Ali, 45. "There was blood and foam coming out of his mouth."
Other Pakistanis said they did not believe the rumor because it was not technically possible. And some discounted the rumor out of bravado or fatalism.
"I'm standing here where suicide bombers could hit," said Fareed ul-Haq, 22, a security guard outside the Sheraton Hotel in Karachi. "If I'm not afraid of them, why would I be scared of a cell phone message?"
But the panic forced the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority to issue a denial. Phone companies sent out text messages urging people to be calm.
Still, the rumor continued to grow, evidence of the power that word of mouth has in Pakistan and all of South Asia, of the tendency of some people to suspend logic and believe in a kind of magic, in spirits and dreams and the unknowable.
This is not the first rumor to sweep the country or the region. A countrywide power outage last fall sparked widespread rumors of a coup against Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf. After the deadly earthquake in Pakistan in fall 2005, people were convinced that rumors predicting other earthquakes were true, no matter the logic used to try to dissuade them.
An earlier rumor insisted that 2-rupee coins featuring three clouds, worth about 3 1/2 cents, were actually made of gold. Some entrepreneurs sold these coins for up to $1.70. Another rumor said that a man was injecting a deadly virus into provocatively dressed women in malls.
Pakistan is hardly alone. Last year, the cell phone threat hit India, which earlier struggled through the hysteria of the dreaded Monkey Man, a half-human, half-monkey who terrified cities and villages, allegedly marauding and killing people wherever he went. More seriously, in all of South Asia, health workers routinely have problems persuading people to vaccinate their children against polio.
And no wonder people in Pakistan were confused about the cell phone rumor. The News, a respected newspaper here, ran a story on the front of its city section discounting the rumor. But another story in the section, written by the vague "Our Staff Reporter," said two people were seriously hurt when they answered the bad phone numbers. One fell unconscious, the other started bleeding from the ears, and doctors had no medicine to treat this kind of virus. The story then concluded: "However, we will provide medicines to these patients on [an] emergency basis, the doctors said."
Another newspaper rejected the rumor but featured the headline of "Killer Mobile Virus."
A few days later, political cartoons began mocking the phone virus. Another text message warned people not to attend work meetings because that would bring on a virus instantly causing them to work. The Pakistan Telecommunication Authority bought quarter-page newspaper advertisements titled "Beware of rumors" that clarified: "There is nothing true about the rumors saying that a call from various numbers can damage the human body. There is no such virus found in mobile phones anywhere in the country."
And a new rumor gained credence -- that the death threat had been cooked up by the mobile phone companies, which wanted people to spend money by sending out text messages. A weary Mubashir Naqvi, the chief executive officer at Ufone, one of the largest cell phone companies in Pakistan, said this conspiracy was also false.
"In our part of the world, people like gossiping," Naqvi said.
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kbarker@tribune.com
Copyright © 2007, Chicago Tribune
John Flaxman, Monument to John & Susannah Phillimore, 1804, Plaster, UCL SC1009, Courtesy of UCL Art Collections





Small, inexpensive, and well-designed, Peter Pauper Press books fit fetchingly into a suitcoat pocket or evening bag. With dependably colorful, decorative dust jackets and entertaining, easily digestible content, few books could be as cheering to give and receive. Perhaps this is why so many found their way into US upper-middle class (and striving) den bookshelves and kitchen cupboards in the 1950s and 1960s. Peter Pauper’s attractively printed cookbooks, poetry volumes and lifestyle hints now recirculate through libraries, discerning used bookstores and as collectibles on eBay. Tantalizing traces of consumption linger in these used books – some apparently stored, tight and unopened, in a bedside table, forlornly filed away in an attic trunk, or boxed and forgotten in a basement bin, while others indicate heavy use, as cherished recipe book, favorite collection of poems, or crucial guide to concocting cocktails. Via an examination of collective collecting memory, this chapter explores the aesthetic dimensions of books – given, received, coveted, and inscribed, then rediscovered and displayed as cultural icons or nostalgic treasures.
In this project, we argue that the popular value of used goods – including books – contradicts the notion that ‘clean’ and ‘new’ determine the borders of consumer desire. We analyze examples from a proliferating personal library in some detail, describing and examining the material pleasures of these used texts, including ‘inscriptions’ such as previous owner’s marginalia – written annotations, highlights and notes left in the pages. Opening these thin volumes for the reader illuminates the ways in which used objects can evoke, and give material form to, the abstract ideas of history and heritage but also, on a more intimate level, prompt nostalgic wonderings around their biographies and past uses. We argue that such wonderings play a central part in the creation of an object’s value, one not embraced in more traditional framings of consumption stemming from a consideration of new goods.
What many consumers value, the efficient market often eliminates. We point out a paradox of online booksellers’ focus on ‘clean’ or ‘tight’ books, free from inscriptions and marks. Economist and philosopher Georges Bataille might recognize marginalia and inscriptions as excess value, excluded by the unreflective operations of the mainstream market, yet contributing to an overall productive environment in a mode that is wasted. Collectors often treasure marked up pages; researchers find these shadowy scribblings provide unobtrusive data about past owners and previous eras. Such qualities provide retro revelations, valued, often, in the wasteland beyond clear financial gains.
Peter Pauper Press helped popularize the gift book market by marketing petite, relatively inexpensive and innocuous volumes – perfect solutions for anniversaries, birthdays, or house warming parties. Their 4 1/2 x 7 inch books, with stylized collage, woodcut graphics and craftily coordinated colors emerged in early form from the Beilenson family’s press in 1948. Running the gamut from lauded literature to lascivious limericks, the Mount Vernon publisher produced condensed editions of John Donne, Francis Bacon and Omar Khayyam; volumes of Japanese Haiku, Chinese love lyrics, and Portuguese sonnets; as well as little puzzle books and quippy quotes about love and women. Their ‘Simple’ series – such as Simple Italian Cookery and Simple Spanish Cookery – predated today’s ‘for Dummies’ and ‘for Beginners’ guides by decades. An ‘ethnic’ cookbook series introduced uncertain chefs to intriguing ingredients and dishes of Japanese, Italian, Spanish, Hawaiian and colonial American gastronomy.
What makes books worth collecting? A hypertext of interests influences acquiring, buying or collecting used books. For example, our hankering for Hawaiiana, as a general genre, prompted our purchase of Peter Pauper Press Simple Hawaiian Cookery. Our fondness for a specific eras’ designs and colors – such as the fashion for combining salmon pink, turquoise blue, and black – provoked us to pick up Festive Salads and Molds. The collecting craze commenced. We began scouring used bookstores coast to coast – from Titcomb’s in Cape Cod to Moe’s in Berkeley by way of John King’s in Detroit. Sometimes, we found a separate Peter Pauper section, but the biggest rush came from spotting a copy amongst aging cookbooks and poetry, flashing like gold flecks in our prospector’s pan. Fortuitously, we found a few among our parents’ books, another in a grandmother’s cabin, and, as we regaled our friends with tales of the hunt, they humored us with used gifts of Peter Pauper Press to complement our enlarging collection. In over ten years collecting Peter Pauper Press, we find that searching for elusive examples, ruminating over what’s worth collecting, bargaining over prices, and displaying precious purchases increase the pleasures of the used text. We love finding a obscure volume at the back of a dimly lighted used bookstore, and continue to compete between ourselves to discover the most desirable example, plucked from the shadows of neglect, filling a previously unrevealed hole in our oeuvre.
Unintimidating and intimate in scale, Peter Pauper Press volumes perhaps invited small authorial interventions. Gift books, moreover, often call for personal inscriptions to the recipient. This excess text often adds value to the collected book. Yet a World Wide Web search suggests that ‘clean’ and ‘tight’ copies – with no marks and uncreased or unbroken bindings – bring in bids on eBay and other online selling sites. Vendors appear to believe that a book must be as close to untouched as possible, that any distinguishing feature, whether sudden reader revelations or judgments noted in margins, are unwelcome and devaluing.
The pleasures of used texts invoke cultural norms and class-related social practices – style, taste, and etiquette – packaged and presented to an upwardly mobile market. Peter Pauper Press served as an accessible introduction to a wider world, creating cosmopolitan consumers quoting African proverbs, Blake’s poetry and Chinese love lyrics over chafing dish delights. The Peter Pauper Press output might be termed the ABC of cosmopolitanism – guidebooks to a mobile, articulate, cultured life. These little books made belle-lettres authors, exotic ingredients, and foreign figures available to mainstream US consumers, much as hi-fi record albums brought faraway sounds onto 1950s patios. Thus, Peter Pauper Press’s attractive books contributed small signals of success in the quest for adventurous dining, broader horizons and cultural capital.