“Alarmist media at it again. Overhyped Florence. Down two notches to Cat 2 already. Soon be Cat 1. They are still trying to hype it.”
Now, there’s some truth to that message sent out on social media about hurricane Florence on Thursday night, just as the massive storm was wheeling its way towards the Carolinas. In their own little subsection of news, weather stories are a law all to themselves. First of all, they live in the world of the “could” — “This could be the biggest…” “This could be the most dangerous…” “This could be the most snow/rain/hail/wind we’ve ever seen.”
Of course, “could” doesn’t mean it will happen, so viewers and listeners are always offered the worst case scenario, and then are either angry, disappointed or feel put out by taking actions (like evacuating) that they might not have had to do.
When the “alarmist media” tweet was sent, the jury was still out on what kind of storm disaster Florence might end up being.
But a simultaneous piece of news station pandemonium was breaking out near Boston: in the towns of Andover, North Andover and Lawrence, houses began exploding and burning Thursday night. Apparently, a natural gas pipeline was over-pressurized, and scores of gas leaks occurred throughout the community.
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4 dead as Hurricane Florence drenches the Carolinas
I took turns watching different news stations, and seeing a variety of coverage of the fires and explosions.
Some of the reporting was impressive, but it also demonstrated the great weaknesses of on-the-spot reporting. For instance, a reporter was using his smart phone to document fires in one neighbourhood, straight to broadcast. What the video pointed out is that the reporter was extremely adept at creating drama and delivering a story, but that he was, in essence, as much in the dark about everything as anyone else milling around on the street was. His knowledge about the extent of the problem essentially ended at what he personally could see. The whys, hows and wheres of the incident were no clearer to him than to any homeowner just told to evacuate.
When stations went back to their anchor desks, there was plenty of information about what residents should do and where they should go — accompanied by some downright bizarre suggestions, like one anchor suggesting that even opening a door to the outside might cause an immediate, potentially fatal explosion. Hard to evacuate under those circumstances.
The point I’m trying to make is that reporters are specialists in reporting: they’re supposed to be a conduit between facts and you.
But the demand to always have news faster is its own danger. The media can’t be instantaneous and absolutely accurate; stand on the ground in one place in a major incident, and you can’t know what’s going on somewhere else. You can’t give the whole picture. If viewers are asking for that, they are, essentially, asking us to do the impossible and blaming us when we fail, (usually calling us “fake news” in the process).
It happens every day, on every platform. But hurricanes show it better than everything else: even the U.S. National Hurricane Center, among the world’s foremost hurricane forecast operations, can’t tell what’s going to happen to a hurricane three days from now. That’s why, if you go on their website, the diagram of where a hurricane is going to go is always a cone, starting at the point where the hurricane is now, and widening with every hour and day into the future.
As I write this, hurricane Florence isn’t done yet. It might not be done even as you read this. But one thing is for certain: the effects of hurricanes — and most news — are best viewed through the rear-view mirror.
Russell Wangersky’s column appears in 36 SaltWire newspapers and websites in Atlantic Canada. He can be reached at [email protected] — Twitter: @wangersky.
