Sum of Our Fears

By Eugene Robinson

Friday, March 11, 2005; Page A23

http://www.washingtonpost.com/ac2/wp-dyn/A25615-2005Mar10?language=printer

Today we eschew both cotton-candy indulgence (the Michael Jackson trial) and
eat-your-peas sobriety (whither Social Security?) to tuck into more starkly
existential fare: If you're the worrying kind, what do you choose from the
smorgasbord of dread laid out upon the table of modern life?

Osama bin Laden still out there scheming, somewhere at large? Terrorists
with a radioactive "dirty bomb" or just a Ryder truck full of fertilizer and
fuel oil? A laboratory accident that looses a real-life Andromeda strain?
Iran (almost) with nukes? North Korea (it boasts) with nukes? Something as
general as global warming, or as specific as the dangerous intersection on
the way to your daughter's school?

Now comes avian influenza, a virus that has jumped from chickens, ducks and
geese to humans. Avian flu has infected fewer than 100 people we know of,
all in faraway Southeast Asia, yet the head of the Centers for Disease
Control and Prevention already sees "a very ominous situation for the
globe," while a World Health Organization official warns of "the gravest
possible danger."

So are we supposed to stop fretting about everything else and focus a laser
beam of anxiety toward Vietnamese barnyards? To help make sense of it all, I
rounded up a few experts in the burgeoning field of risk analysis.

Paradoxically, the exercise was a comfort. It turns out there's no "right"
or "wrong" way to calculate the sum of our fears.

Elizabeth Anderson, who runs a risk-analysis firm and edits an academic
journal devoted to the field, pointed out that in deciding what to worry
about, "you're comparing risks with varying degrees of certainty, and some
may be low probability but high consequence."

In other words, few people (except the parents of teenagers) worry
themselves sick about car accidents, which are common but usually minor. An
explosion at a nuclear plant, on the other hand, is vastly less likely --
but utterly devastating if it ever happens. Also, one man's risk can be
another man's breakfast: Europeans see grave dangers in genetically modified
"Frankenfood"; Americans generally don't care if their corn flakes were
engineered in a lab.

Paul Slovic, a professor at the University of Oregon, did a striking
experiment in which he asked experts and laymen to rank a list of 30
dangers. "Nuclear power," ranked most dangerous by regular folks, was just
20th on the experts' list. The experts, who knew the statistics, were far
more concerned about such things as medical X-rays and surgical mishaps.

Further research has led Slovic to conclude that this subjectivity is
inherent. We tend to overestimate risks that strike us viscerally with dread
-- a dirty bomb that spews radiation, say -- and underestimate risks that
don't. Slovic found that we even change our evaluation of a risk depending
on the language used to describe it: Illogically, we perceive "20 out of
100" as a greater risk than "one out of five" or "a 20 percent chance."

The experts agreed that there's one thing that can be fixed: how authorities
communicate with the public about the risks we face.

Health authorities can give us more than blurted pronouncements of certain
doom. They can give us enough information to make an informed assessment. Is
there still a good chance the flu will fizzle out? What is that chance,
realistically? What's the plan if and when the first human case shows up in
this country?

The Department of Homeland Security should lead a similar conversation about
terrorism threats. Basically, all we get now is the
green-blue-yellow-orange-red color chart, which tells us nothing.
Occasionally there's an all-points bulletin for a few people whose only
crime may be their swarthiness, but the alert always comes with the
admonition to go about our normal lives. Michael Chertoff, new DHS
secretary, here's a job for you: Talk to us constructively about what
"normal" means these days.

Baruch Fischhoff, a Carnegie Mellon University professor who heads the
Society for Risk Analysis, said, "Risk analysis is easier when you have a
historical record, but it's a matter of theory when you don't." Trying to
judge the risk of any kind of terrorist attack is hard, because by
definition, it's an exercise in reading the terrorists' minds.

On the other hand, he noted, there's a long historical record of how
influenza outbreaks grow into epidemics that explode into pandemics, and
"it's not as if we have to read the minds of the microbes." That record
includes the Spanish influenza of 1918-19, which killed between 20 million
and 40 million people worldwide.

So if eminent epidemiologists are running around with their hair on fire
over avian flu, I'm afraid we might want to pay attention.



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