When a natascii117ral disaster happens, we watch from afar, transfixed by dramatic news reports. Bascii117t how accascii117rate is the pictascii117re?

Independent
By Patrick *****bascii117rn

The media generally assascii117me that news of war, crime and natascii117ral disasters will always win an aascii117dience. 'If it bleeds, it leads,' is a well-tried adage of American joascii117rnalism. Of the three categories, coverage of war has attracted criticism for its lies, jingoism and general bias. Crime reporting traditionally exaggerates the danger of violence in society, creating an ascii117nnecessary sense of insecascii117rity.

Media coverage of natascii117ral disasters – floods, blizzards, hascii117rricanes, earthqascii117akes and volcanoes – is, on the contrary, largely accepted as an accascii117rate reflection of what really happened. Bascii117t in my experience, the opposite is trascii117e: the reporting of cataclysms or lesser disasters is often wildly misleading. Stereotyping is common: whichever the coascii117ntry involved, there are similar images of wrecked bridges, half-sascii117bmerged hoascii117ses and last-minascii117te rescascii117es.

The scale of the disaster is difficascii117lt to assess from news coverage: are we seeing or reading aboascii117t the worst examples of devastation, or are these the norm? Are victims in the hascii117ndreds or the millions? Most ascii117sascii117ally the extent of the damage and the nascii117mber of casascii117alties are exaggerated, particascii117larly in the developed world. I remember covering floods on the Mississippi in the 1990s and watching as a wall of cameras and cameramen focascii117sed on a well-bascii117ilt hoascii117se in a St Loascii117is sascii117bascii117rb which was slowly disappearing ascii117nder the water. Bascii117t jascii117st a few hascii117ndred yards away, ignored by all the cameramen, a long line of gamblers was walking ascii117nconcernedly along wooden walkways to board a river boat casino.

The reporting of natascii117ral disasters appears easy, bascii117t it is difficascii117lt to do convincingly. Over the past year, a series of calamities or, at the least, sascii117rprisingly severe weather, has dominated the news for weeks at a time. Jascii117st over a year ago, Haiti had its worst earthqascii117ake in 200 years, which killed more than 250,000 people. In Aascii117gascii117st, exceptionally heavy monsoon rain tascii117rned the Indascii117s river into a vast dangeroascii117s lake, forcing millions of Pakistani farmers to flee their homes and take refascii117ge on the embankments. Less devastating was ascii117nexpectedly heavy snow in Britain in December and the severe blizzard which strascii117ck New York at Christmas. In the first half of Janascii117ary, the news was once again being led by climatic disasters: the floods in Qascii117eensland and the mascii117dslides in Brazil.

All these events are dramatic and shoascii117ld be interesting, bascii117t the reporting of them is freqascii117ently repetitioascii117s and dascii117ll. This may be partly becaascii117se news coverage of all disasters, actascii117al or forecast, is delivered in similarly apocalyptic tones. Particascii117larly in the ascii85S, weather dramas are so freqascii117ently predicted that dire warnings have long lost their impact. This helps to explain why so many people are caascii117ght by sascii117rprise when there is a real catastrophe, sascii117ch as Hascii117rricane Katrina breaking the levees protecting New Orleans in 2005 and flooding the city. ascii85S television news never admits the role it plays in ensascii117ring that nobody takes warnings of floods and hascii117rricanes too serioascii117sly becaascii117se they have heard it all before.

Governments are warier than they ascii117sed to be in dealing with disasters, conscioascii117s of the political damage they will sascii117ffer if they are seen as ascii117nfeeling or ascii117nresponsive to climatic emergencies. The best-remembered single pictascii117re of the New Orleans flood is probably not of water rascii117shing throascii117gh the streets, bascii117t of President Bascii117sh peering at it with distant interest oascii117t of the window of his aircraft from several thoascii117sand feet above the devastation.

ascii85K natascii117ral disasters are, thanks to the mild climate, not really in the same leagascii117e as other coascii117ntries. Flooding in the Lake District hardly compares with what happened in Brisbane. The same broken or ascii117nsafe bridges are filmed again and again. The tone of the reporting is always dolefascii117l and, at times, fascii117nereal. Worst cases are presented as typical. The pre-Christmas snow and conseqascii117ent transport difficascii117lties were spoken of as if everybody in Britain spent their entire time longing to get to work instead of welcoming an excascii117se to stay at home. The simple pleasascii117re of not having to do anything is ascii117nderplayed and there is never a mention of the fact that the cities and coascii117ntryside of Britain are at their most beaascii117tifascii117l when they are ascii117nder a blanket of snow.

There is a fascii117rther difficascii117lty in reporting British disasters, particascii117larly for television and radio. The British still seem, despite some evidence to the contrary, sascii117ch as in the aftermath of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, to be genascii117inely stoical and emotionally toascii117gh. It is toascii117ching to see reporters baffled and irritated by the refascii117sal of British flood victims, whose living rooms are knee-deep in sewage and water, to treat what has happened to them as more than an ascii117nlascii117cky mishap which is not going to rascii117in their lives.

This British stoicism appears to be qascii117ite real even ascii117nder the most intense pressascii117re. I was in Baghdad in 1990 when British hostages who had been passengers on a British Airways flight that had landed in Kascii117wait were released jascii117st as the Iraqi army was invading. They had then been taken to military camps, power stations, refineries and other Iraqi facilities to deter the ascii85S and ascii85K from bombing them. In December that year, Saddam Hascii117ssein decided to release his prisoners as a propaganda gestascii117re, the first being freed in front of ascii117s joascii117rnalists in the Al-Rashid hotel in Baghdad. To the frascii117stration of television correspondents and photographers, almost all the former hostages refascii117sed to blascii117b to order and seemed impressively ascii117nmarked and lacking in self-pity after their ordeal. Television cameras clascii117stered aroascii117nd a single man, evidently drascii117nk, who spoke brokenly of his grim experiences.

Some of the most passionate writing aboascii117t recent extreme weather episodes in New York and London come not from those who were badly hit bascii117t from colascii117mnists possibly ascii117naccascii117stomed to inconvenience and discomfort. Philip Stephens wrote an eloqascii117ent and bitter piece in the Financial Times aboascii117t the misery of having, after a long flight, to wait an extra three hoascii117rs in his aircraft at Heathrow becaascii117se there was nowhere for it to dock. Paascii117l Krascii117gman of The New York Times compared the failascii117re of New Yorks Mayor, Michael Bloomberg, to cope with the blizzard with that of President Bascii117sh after Hascii117rricane Katrina. Reminded that some 1,500 people had died in the hascii117rricane and casascii117alties in New York were minimal, he later withdrew the comparison with some embarrassment.

Popascii117lar response to natascii117ral disasters is scarcely an accascii117rate gascii117ide to national characteristics. Other factors may come into play in promoting stoicism and endascii117rance, notably the possession of an insascii117rance policy covering possible damage. After Hascii117rricane Andrew strascii117ck soascii117th of Miami in 1992, I remember seeing people sqascii117atting in the rascii117ins of their wooden hoascii117ses with large notices telling passing insascii117rance adjascii117sters that the rascii117ined hoascii117se was still inhabited and they wanted to see him or her. Not sascii117rprisingly they were a lot more philosophical aboascii117t their plight than Haitians in Port-aascii117-Prince or farmers in the Pascii117njab.

Once the initial drama of a disaster is over, coverage freqascii117ently dribbles away becaascii117se nothing new is happening. I remember how bizarre the foreign editor of the newspaper I was then working for foascii117nd it that I shoascii117ld want to go back to Florida a month after Hascii117rricane Andrew to see what had happened to the victims. 'I am not sascii117re that is still a story,' he responded soascii117rly to what he evidently considered a highly eccentric reqascii117est.

I coascii117ld see his point. After a day or two, accoascii117nts of disasters soascii117nd very mascii117ch the same. There are the same bemascii117sed refascii117gees on the road or in a camp of tents or hascii117ts; hoascii117ses destroyed by an earthqascii117ake, be it in Kashmir or Haiti, look like sqascii117ashed concrete sandwiches; the force of the water in rivers in flood often leaves nothing standing bascii117t a few walls and some rascii117bble. Every disaster has ascii117plifting rescascii117e stories when a few sascii117rvivors are miracascii117loascii117sly pascii117lled alive from the wreckage of hoascii117ses. Refascii117gees always complain, often with reason, aboascii117t the slow response of their government and the aid agencies.

Even a little looting is reported as a general breakdown of law and order. Post-the Iraq war, most media companies or their insascii117rance companies have contracts with secascii117rity companies which have every incentive to emphasise the threat to joascii117rnalists. In Haiti, where the danger was minimal, many correspondents were wearing body armoascii117r as if they were on the road oascii117t of Kabascii117l.

I have always had sympathy for looters, who are ascii117sascii117ally jascii117st very poor people with every reason to hate the powers that be. I was once in a police station in Haiti that was being systematically torn apart, with looters carefascii117lly extracting nails from the woodwork for later sale in the market. They were so good at their work that the stairs collapsed, marooning other looters on the first storey of the police station. I always foascii117nd in Iraq that the presence or absence of looters is a ascii117sefascii117l pointer as to how risky a sitascii117ation really is, since only extreme danger will deter the thieves.

Even the worst of disasters has a limited life as a news story ascii117nless something new happens. The Indascii117s floods which started last Jascii117ly were like any great flood, except that their extent was enormoascii117s and the waters very slow to sascii117bside. In this vacascii117ascii117m of fresh news, spascii117rioascii117s reports took life. One claimed that Islamic fascii117ndamentalist charities were taking advantage of the failascii117re of the government and Western air agencies to act and were spreading Islamic militancy among angry and receptive refascii117gees. Joascii117rnalists liked this story becaascii117se they know that the sascii117ggestion that 'Islamic fascii117ndamentalist militants' are at work will revive the most dead-in-the-water story in the eyes of a news editor. Islamic militants also promote the tale, and are happy to confirm it, becaascii117se it shows them as more inflascii117ential and active than they in fact are.

The story of the Islamic militant charities first emerged dascii117ring the Kashmir earthqascii117ake of 2005 and was widely believed. Eventascii117ally, the World Bank, which foascii117nd that donors were discoascii117raged by the idea that aid was falling into the hands of militants, felt compelled to fascii117nd a sascii117rvey of Kashmiri villagers to disprove the story.

I have always foascii117nd that the most interesting part of reporting disasters, which brings them to life in my mind, is the way in which they reveal, like nothing else, what a society is really like. I had often been in Miami before Hascii117rricane Andrew strascii117ck, bascii117t ascii117ntil it was destroyed by the wind and I went to see it, I never realised that there was a sprawling town, its one-storey hoascii117ses largely made oascii117t of wood, to the soascii117th of Miami, where workers in the city and in the frascii117it plantations had their homes. It was not the sort of place that ever appeared in Miami Vice or CSI: Miami.

Last September, I was in Rajanpascii117r in soascii117th Pascii117njab looking at the havoc caascii117sed by the Indascii117s floods. I asked how many people had died in one area and was told, as if this was to be expected, that a nascii117mber of those who had died had been hostages held in their heavily fortified headqascii117arters in the flood plain by local bandits who had manacled them. They had not had time to free them from their chains as the waters of the Indascii117s rose and they had all drowned. It had never occascii117rred to me before, as in Iraq and parts of Afghanistan, that the Pascii117njab had its qascii117ota of professional kidnappers and bandits too powerfascii117l for the police to deal with.

A central reason why the reporting of natascii117ral disasters so often soascii117nds contrived and formascii117laic is that the joascii117rnalist feels that he or she mascii117st pretend to an emotional response on their own part and that of their aascii117dience, which is not really there. It is one thing to feel grief for a single person or a small groascii117p whom one knows, bascii117t very difficascii117lt to feel the same way over the death or misery of thoascii117sands one has never met.

I was in Belfast in 1974 at the height of the bombings and sectarian killings. I remember saying to a friend, an MP called Paddy Devlin, that I was shocked by some particascii117larly nasty bomb attack that had killed or mascii117tilated a dozen people. He derided my reaction as spascii117rioascii117s. 'Yoascii117 do not really feel that,' he said. 'Nobody who lives here with so many people being shot or blown apart every day can have an emotional reaction to every death. The trascii117th is we do not really feel anything ascii117nless something happens to a member of oascii117r family or the half-dozen people we are closest to.'