‘WE’RE doomed, Mr Mainwaring. We’re doomed.’

Why does actor John Laurie’s quivering Scottish lilt keep echoing down the corridors of fear like Private Frazer’s ghost? It might be because of the scary words. ‘Pandemic’
has the aura of uncontrollable size – it is, after all, non-specifically big. And there are all those formidable acronyms: WHO, CJD, BSE, SARS, H1N1, H5N1. More likely, it’s the result of the media frenzy that’s once more been conspiring to scare the pants off the impressionable in the guise of public service sensationalism.

We should have seen it all coming, I suppose. But sometimes when emergencies or mishaps occur, we’re just not prepared for the scale of the hyperbole that bursts upon us. We’ve had: ‘Economy in meltdown’, ‘Aids will wipe out a generation’, ‘Millennium bug to spread global chaos’. So I suppose ‘750,000 Brits could perish’ is about par for the course.

There’s no question that story-tellers from time immemorial have shared an appetite for the spectacular. And things don’t have to be untrue to be sensational; just insert enough uncertainty and apprehension.

Six months ago we were crunching ourselves into financial oblivion. In an increasingly pan-dependent world, a hiccup on the Chicago pork-belly futures market can resonate around the world’s financial sector quicker than a microbe in a Mexican slurry pit.

Far from globalisation acting as a stabilising factor, we are now exposed to international hysteria which can be manipulated and embellished to capture attention. Now I’d hesitate to accuse the BBC of any such motive, but to hear the R4 news bulletins struggling to make a headline out of the possibility that someone who may have been in contact with somebody arriving from abroad might have been infected by the swine flu virus, does raise serious questions about disconnection from plots.

A lot depends on the context in which information is wrapped. After it became apparent that the Mexican doors had been left swinging open and the World Health Organisation had begun ratcheting up the doomsday clock, we were advised that the H1N1 flu virus present in swine flu would pretty well inevitably reach our shores.

With equal candour, our own MOH assured us the Island had an adequate stockpile of first-line antiviral protection. No accident, this. We are benefiting from reaction to previous scares that a pandemic of avian flu – the more virulent H5N1 virus – is overdue. So our population is better served than many of our neighbours. That’s the good news – for now. Of course we’re certainly not out of the woods yet. Any strain of any virus has a life of its own, constantly developing as it spreads, and all the medical authorities can do is to monitor its progress and press on with developing antidotes.

And, of course, if we feel threatened, we all want to vent our anger and frustration on someone or something for causing it. First, the bankers of Wall Street were vilified for greedily plunging us into global financial turmoil, now ‘porcus Mexicanus’ is in line for the chop. But let’s not simply blame the pigs. Infections don’t come out of nowhere.

The current swine flu outbreak may be traceable to a specific country – even possibly to one industrial pig farm employing horrendous animal husbandry and hygiene. It therefore doesn’t excuse Egyptians slaughtering every pig in the country. (In a predominantly Muslim country where most pigs are owned by Christian farmers, this seems like one convenient preventative measure too far.) But it also doesn’t mean we should just hold up our hands and panic.

A worldwide flu pandemic is obviously a very frightening thing – particularly if it rages out of control and there are no effective measures to stop it. The present outbreak is undoubtedly spreading slowly across the globe, though with none of the ferocity predicted by the professional doom-mongers. The number of confirmed cases in the UK is now in the mid-60s and described as ‘mild’. We shouldn’t be complacent, but it’s only fair to keep the outbreak in context. For example, 36,000 people die every year in the USA of ‘seasonal’ flu. It’s also worth asking how many citizens have been infected by TB spreading in from Eastern Europe or sub-Saharan Africa. Have hospital infections from MRSA or C-Difficile suddenly become less an issue? Surely not.

When reporting the threats to global health and finance, there are some significant shared features. First, their effects come in waves. Today’s hype is tomorrow’s history. Over time there’s a dynamic ebb and flow. Having been universally discredited and dangled over a financial abyss, we are surviving; the banks haven’t collapsed; the country is still actually manufacturing things – indeed, some items are more affordable. Second, the perceived gravity of their impact is fuelled by uncertainty. It’s as fertile a breeding ground for anxiety as it is for bugs. Just as destabilising is an unfiltered avalanche of information. It may represent ‘power’, but without context and perspective it can overwhelm to the point that we can no longer see the pigs for the sties.

We’re now told that the Island’s population can expect to be offered inoculation against the H1N1 virus by the autumn. It’s not a cure, but manifests a positive step in combating one of the perils, natural or man-made, that beset our fragile global village. Increasing immunity against disease or stabilising the economy doesn’t make ‘sexy’ media copy. But don’t concern yourselves with the good news, chaps, just drop it from the headlines. There’s sure to be another disaster for the making. What about global warming? You may be holding your front pages for now, but this one will wipe out millions. Now, there’s a story!