Media eye of the storm
FOR a few days this week it felt like the stand-off between North Korea and the United States had disappeared from the news cycle. Well, it probably had. That’s actually what happened. The confrontation didn’t disappear it just fell off the front pages for a while.
The reports of the threats of nuclear war were wiped off our TV screens while we waited for the hurricanes.
Instead of the parades of missiles, instead of smarty-pants-grabs of Donald J Trump tweets, we were engrossed in images of American reporters standing in precarious positions, declaring the coming of the “worst storm” ever recorded.
These journalists put their lives on the line to get the story to the rest of the world.
You really have to question the sanity and the psychology behind these live cross choices.
CNN seemed to have somebody stationed at every possible landfall position.
From Cuba to Melbourne (Florida), they were uniformly decked out in polo-shirts, baseball caps and spray jackets.
This was the gear that would protect them from the fallout from 300km/h winds.
It made for predictable images of a threat of disaster.
Our world is more connected than ever.
The internet knows where we go every day of the week, we can track our movements by the ads that appear in our Facebook feeds.
This interconnectivity gives us immediate satellite predictions of weather formations.
This is great for planning evacuations.
The people of Florida had incredible forewarning. There was every opportunity for them to find shelter and higher ground.
This is the great thing about the 21st century. We can predict and plan not just discover and mourn. But there has got to be a better way.
Planting perfectly good reporters in the path of a hurricane is not intelligent. If nothing else it normalises the frantic need for dramatic confrontation that the mass media has created.
Disaster can be filmed live and broadcast worldwide.
In fact, throughout the candid responses to camera there is always a little hint that they hope this one is the biggest of all time.
That’s the story they’re all hoping to get.
That is why they are standing knee-deep in storm water saying: “Here it comes.”
The aftermath is not as compelling.
Clean-up is not dynamic. Not like trees bent like pipe-cleaners, not like humans being buffeted by Mother Nature.
Then it hits and then it’s over. Throw to commercial break while the UN Security Council is meeting.
While we briefly pause to recall the 16th anniversary of the Twin Towers and then in the blink of an eye, we’re back. Here it comes. Greater sanctions are placed on North Korea.
They respond with the now predictable threat.
Their ambassador to the UN said: “The forthcoming measures by DPRK will make the US suffer the greatest pain it ever experienced in its history . . . ”
The greatest pain ever experienced in history is poetic and newsworthy.
But will this brutal threat ever make landfall, or will it blow itself out over the South China Sea?
How do we deal with this impending doom?
How much longer can we stand in the eye of this storm before it hits us from behind?
If the best case scenario plays out, the threat will be downgraded to a tropical storm instead of a Category 5 historic catastrophe.
But even then, what will that aftermath look like?
How long will it take for normality to resume? Ross Mueller is a freelance writer and director.