The fine art of talking disaster
The past six months have given us all a taste of being confronted with the unfamiliar. The coronavirus has affected all of us, creating uncertainty and concern for the economic and physical health of family and community. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there were someone out there who could make what is happening crystal clear, provide guidance for where we are heading, and whom we all could believe in?
I don’t think anyone can fit that bill. COVID is new and we are in the midst of the pandemic. But I have several examples of really good communicators in other fields that provide an idea of what we could use.
Hurricanes are a good place to start because they are more straightforward than many other disasters. Hurricanes have a season, occur frequently, and cause significant and quantifiable impacts. It also helps that they form and travel in the atmosphere, which is easier to monitor than other parts of the earth system. But they still pose significant risk communication challenges.
All disasters, whether you can see them coming or not, involve uncertainty. Humans are really bad at processing uncertainty. We spend billions on lotteries with a low probability of success and, at the same time, engage in high probability hazardous activities such as smoking. The exact path and force of a hurricane involve uncertainties. The primary mitigation technique for hurricanes is to get people out of harms way. There are many reasons why it is difficult to get people to evacuate and uncertainty further muddies the water.
The National Hurricane Center (NHC) in Miami was formed 65 years. The Center has long had a strong outreach effort and none epitomizes it better than Dr. Max Mayfield. Mayfield spent 34 years with the National Weather Service and headed the NHC from 2000 to 2007. He gained the moniker “Mr. Hurricane” for his frequent appearances on TV and his ability to clearly convey what was happening and motivate people to evacuate. He worked hard in the off-season to communicate preparedness to both officials and the public. He became a familiar, trusted voice that people in hurricane country expected to appear on television whenever a hurricane approached. And he instilled it as a tradition that his successors at the NHC have carried on.
Earthquakes are different
than hurricanes. We can’t see them coming and damaging ones aren’t as frequent. That means a bigger emphasis on preparedness long before hand and even more communication skills to make people pay attention to something they aren’t interested in. No one has done a better job of doing this than Kate Hutton. Kate, an astrophycist by training, switched to earthquakes when she realized the job market was better. She arrived at the USGS in Pasadena in 1977 to work on data analysis and strengthening the seismic network. As a sideline, she fell into the role of Southern California earthquake communicator because her predecessor had that responsibility.
Unlike a number of scientists I’ve known, Kate never thought of communication as a lesser duty. She recognized its importance, and although an introvert by nature, was really good at it. She became the first “Earthquake Lady,” explaining to the public via radio and TV what had happened after every felt jolt and promoting preparedness in between. When Lucy Jones arrived eight years later, Kate had already created the formula. They became the Kate and Lucy show and, like Max Mayfield, were expected by millions to bring a calm, educated, and clear perspective to whatever was shaking.
Not all great communicators are scientists by training. Agencies like the National Weather Service and the USGS have long recognized that the media can be an important ally, often able to persuade and motivate the public in ways that can be difficult for scientists. You can find these stalwart journalists in all areas of the media and I’ve had the pleasure of working with many. They have several things in common — they work closely with scientists and scientific agencies, they recognize what they don’t know and don’t assume answers, and try hard to resist the often sensationalistic pressures of their employers.
There are too many great science writers to mention hear so I will let one of them stand in for the group. If you lived in the greater LA basin between 1986 and 2008, you probably know the name Jack Popejoy. Popejoy spent over twenty years as a radio announce and anchor in Los Angeles area and was aso scheduled to be the next citizen astronaut before the Challenger disaster derailed the program. Earthquakes were his passion and he was well known among seismologists for his questions and encyclopedic knowledge of past events. Kate Hutton remembers him as “among the best.”
My friend and colleague Kate Long, formerly of the State OES earthquake program, had this description of Popejoy, summarizing an extraordinary science communicator.
“Jack Popejoy was everything good about a news reporter: Curious, whip-smart as well as an educated citizen-scientist, a great listener and astute question asker. He was able to explain science in a way everyone could understand. But Jack was also a generous teacher. Talking to the public is a totally different language than what scientists speak to each other. If Jack were taping an interview, he’d stop the recorder and coach you through short sentences that clearly got across the point you were trying to make. Lucy Jones credits him as her mentor in science communication to the public, as do many of us. His energy and creativity were contagious. Jack was the very opposite of “fake news”. I summon his calm wisdom and kind smile every single time there is a microphone in my face.”
There are several things that Max, Kate and Jack have in common. They all spent years developing a relationship with the public and gained their trust as honest brokers — grounded in scientific consensus and able to explain what was known and unknown. COVID is far more challenging in being new, greater uncertainty, and having become a political lightning rod. Jack Popejoy died in 2011. Were he still alive, I’m sure he would be hard at work separating COVID fact from fiction but even he might be daunted by the challenges of the current communication landscape.
Lori Dengler is an emeritus professor of geology at Humboldt State University, an expert in tsunami and earthquake hazards. All Not My Fault columns are archived at https://www2.humboldt. edu/kamome/resources and may be used for educational purposes. Leave a message at 707-826-6019 or email Kamome@humboldt.edu for questions/comments about this column, or to request a free copy of the North Coast preparedness magazine “Living on Shaky Ground.”