Whether you create a new product or a new kid, one of the most consequential things you can do is give it a name. Almost as much as appearance, the moniker by which something goes helps to set an image and impression on the very first encounter. Even though it has nice alliteration, you're likely to think twice about trying Poopsie's Popsicles. And no matter how cute he is as a baby and the literary heritage the name boasts, it may take till adulthood until a kid called Atticus stops getting beaten up.
For certain other inanimate objects, the name itself matters less than the fact that it has one. We don't inherently bestow affection or distaste on a hurricane named "Sally" unless it aims a direct hit on our house. But having a name in the first place does enable us non-meteorologists to easily identify and discuss a given storm, and not get it confused with "2021 Tropical Depression 37." For that reason in 2012 the Weather Channel started naming winter storms, and there is a recent movement from Europe to California to name heat waves.
That same reasoning applies to the bug which has disrupted our world. While scientists may prefer the more scientifically technical name of "severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2" or SARS-CoV-2, that doesn't really roll off the tongue for civilians. And so the World Health Organization settled on "Coronavirus Disease of 2019" or COVID-19 for short. Even that wasn't short enough for most, and so unless you are trying to make a political point, you likely just call it COVID. Could have been worse: with our penchant for dropping letters (think Flickr, MGMT and Thx) you could have been infected with COD.
As the virus changed and spread, it became necessary to communicate those variations and their effects in a way that those without a PhD in biochemistry could follow. And so the WHO convened a committee to explore naming options. Their initial plan was to create a bunch of two-syllable names that aren't words, or portmanteaus. But some investigating showed too many were already in use, like frenemy (friend/enemy) or Brangelina (Brad/Angelina). Expanding that to three or four syllables made the prospective names too unwieldy, and Greek gods and goddesses became too personal. Even just simple numbering was nixed, as it looked to generate more confusion: variation B-1.63.1 might wind up being the same as COVID-19-7.1.
Eventually they settled on Greek letters as a way of both simplifying the task and stripping some of the stigma from the emergence of new variants. The thinking was that a country might be more willing to cooperate and accurately report a new mutation if they knew their name wouldn't be attached to it. And so rather than getting the "German variant" they would call it Tau or Kappa. That way only a few fraternities or sororities might get insulted.
Even that hopefully neutral approach necessitated caution. The organization takes each new variant in alphabetical order, and names it even if turns out not to be a significant threat. So Alpha, Beta and Gamma were assigned to variations B.1.1.7, B.1351 and P.1 respectively before we got to B.1.617.2, which was coded as Delta. As they continued on the next big threat turned out to be B.1.1.529, and the letter "Nu" was at the ready. However, they skipped that as it could too easily be confused with "new." That brought them to "Xi," which was skipped because it was a common family name, including that of the president of China. And that brought us to current hot button of Omicron.
And now they are taking a detour. The latest identified strain turns out to be a mashup of two existing versions of Omicron, the original BA.1 and the new BA.2 varietal. So rather than increment the letter, they have dubbed it Omicron XE, which only means it will be confused with a new Lexus.
Even with that offshoot, the nearly continuous mutations likely means they will run out of letters sooner rather than later. The WHO has said that when that happens they will institute a new system, as yet unannounced. Suggestions are welcome. Fruits? Movie villains? Insects? TBD, but there is a possibility that someday you could get a booster to protect you from Darth Vader.
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Marc Wollin of Bedford doesn't have a nickname. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
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