Naming a virus

 
“What’s in a name?” Juliet famously asked. “That which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet.” It’s not often one disagrees with Shakespeare, but when it comes to communication, names do matter. A name identifies something, it creates the first impression, and often that impression lasts. The most famous name of 2020 came in an unlikely form: a deadly virus. Viruses are usually named according to where they were thought to have originated. Ebola first emerged near the Ebola River in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Zika virus was found in the Zika valley of Central Africa. Middle Eastern respiratory syndrome was initially reported on in Saudi Arabia. Swine flu was transmitted to humans from pigs. So, what of COVID-19, or Coronavirus? These are names that don’t fit the pattern. And there’s a reason for that. In 2015 the World Health Organisation decided to change the way viruses were named, in an attempt to minimise “unnecessary negative effects on nations, economies and people”. So, despite the best efforts of Donald Trump and his supporters, the virus has not been officially named ‘China virus’ or ‘Kung Flu’. Corona is Latin for crown, and was chosen due to the way little crowns appear to spike off the microscope when viewed from a microscope. And so the official name was decided like this: CO: Corona VI: Virus D: Disease 19: 2019 – the year it was discovered Perhaps unsurprisingly, the decision was met with some disproval. Members of the medical community claimed it was taking political correctness too far and would lead to difficulty in distinguishing diseases. Linfa Wang, from the Australian Animal Health Laboratory in Geelong asserted that “It will certainly lead to boring names and a lot of confusion.” But we have seen the repercussions of poorly thought-out names before. In early 1981, doctors started reporting compromised immune function and symptoms they hadn’t seen before in their gay male patients. At first the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) named it “gay-related immune deficiency”, or GRID. Before long, newspapers were referring to it as “gay cancer” and religious groups were deeming it as god’s punishment for the gay community. This created enormous stigma for the gay community, and also did not cover all the demographics of people impacted by the disease. Thankfully, before long, AIDS became the more common term. The case of Corona
No one wants to be associated with a virus that has killed millions of people. That includes brands. As the threat of a global pandemic loomed, the Mexican pale lager Corona, faced a unique challenge. With the virus hitting headlines, their beer got caught up in the fray. Google searches for phrases like ‘corona beer virus’, and ‘beer coronavirus’ increased dramatically, rocketing to 2,300% and 3,200% respectively. The beer’s ‘Buzz’ score, calculated by YouGov, which measures ‘whether you’ve heard something positive or negative’ about a product, had dropped significantly by late February. YouGov’s subsequent assessment of purchase intent saw Corona beer hit its lowest level in two years. Corona, however, were quick to rebuke claims they were negatively impacted, boasting a 5% increase in sales in the US during the period. While it goes without saying that there is no affiliation between the beer and the virus, the name  was front-and-centre in people’s minds, and the brand was forced to come out publicly to distance itself from it. The importance of names and their associations is something that must be considered by brands. Nestle’s Red Skin and Chicos, Coon cheese and Colonial Brewing were all forced to confront shifting cultural sensitivities this year. ‘What’s in a name?’ Juliet asked. The answer: a whole lot.

The black sheep

Hmm, this is getting ridiculous.

As a pampered poodle I’m used to regular haircuts. They keep me stylish, so when I galivant around the park, the dogs stop what they’re doing and coyly approach me for a sniff.

It’s been nice. I’ve worn the crown at Princes Park for several dog-years now.

Of course, the haircuts have the added practical benefit of keeping my curls in check. While poodles are well known for their lack of shedding, this also means their curly coats need regular attention. But thanks to COVID-19, I can no longer see my barber, or eat the Schmakos he gives me after our sessions.

It’s becoming a problem. My curls are wilder, messier, more sheep like than ever before. I feel like one of those deformed looking sheep who go missing only to return looking like giant cotton wool balls.

Now when I sheepishly return to the Princes Park I’m ignored, except of course, by the border collies, who have developed a habit of chasing me around, in some instinctual attempt to herd me out of the park! 

I am not a sheep! I am a poodle! My messages to Dan Andrews have been so far ignored. Apparently, he thinks there are more important things to worry about than a state full of poodles transforming into sheep…

I get that many humans are desperate for a hairdresser, but they don’t know the pain of being a poodle!

Contact us to learn more about navigating your brand through an increasingly sensitive cultural environment